6S The Great Downshire Handicap 



went off across the downs, straight away three miles on 

 end, at a pace that made pedestrian observers bitterly 

 lament that they were not after him behind a pack of 

 homids. Along the side of this plantation two figures 

 walked in earnest converse. 



' Not a thousand to one chance you haven't got ! ' 

 exclaimed one of them, Barrick, a lad in Chattress's 

 employ who rode a jumper occasionally, was often put 

 up in trials at home, and ' did ' Fortunatus. * Our horse 

 is sure to beat that without being asked to gallop.' 



The other, Bob Hough, professional backer and 

 rogue generally, picked a leaf from the f oHage by his side 

 and began to chew it meditatively, as he turned to re- 

 trace his steps, for they were at the end of a strip of 

 plantation, as much out of sight of possible onlookers as 

 they could get. 



' How did you find out the weights you carried when 

 yours was tried ? ' he presently asked. 



'Do you suppose I've been 'ere five years without 

 finding where the trial book's kept ? One of the maids 

 does me a turn when I ask her, and you may depend 

 upon it that's all right. Our horse was never better. I 

 rode in the trial, and I can tell you there was no mistake 

 about it. Fortunatus will win in a bloomin' walk,' 

 Barrick rephed. ' How are they betting ? ' 



'Oh, he's very hot— 8 to 1 bar him, 100 to 9 ours,' 

 Hough replied, ' ours ' standing for the mare Puzzle ; 

 for Chattress had been correct in saying that she belonged 

 to some queerish people, and if Hough did not own a 

 leg of her himself, he was an intimate ally of the gang. 



' We should win if you were out of the way, you know. 

 She's not been on the job since Kempton, and it's a 

 wicked shame that she's handicapped as she is after the 



