“I think she would. I hear somethin' about a trial she gave them good enough to win--if I could find out her time--Porter don't talk much, an' Andy Dixon's like a clam. There's a boy in the stable, Shandy, that I might pump--”
“Don't bother, Mr. Langdon; I dislike prying into anybody's business.”
The Trainer stared, but he didn't know that Porter had told Crane all about the trial, and so the latter could afford to take a virtuous pose.
“Has The Dutchman a look in?” continued Crane.
“On his runnin' he has; he wasn't half fit, an' got as bad a ride as ever I see in my life. The race ought to be between 'em--I ain't seen no two-year-olds out to beat that pair.”
“If I thought The Dutchman would win I'd buy him. I like game horses, and men, too--that'll take the gaff and try.”
“Do you remember the buying of Silver Foot, Langdon?”
“The best handicap horse in the country, an' he was sold for a song--seven thousand.”
“Less than that, the first time,” corrected Crane.
“Yes, they stole him from old Walters; made him believe the horse was no good.”
“Just so,” commented Crane; “I've heard that story,” and his smooth, putty-like face remained blank and devoid of all meaning, as his eyes peered vacantly over their lower lids at the Trainer.
Langdon waited for the other to continue, but the Banker seemed wrapped up in a retrospect of the Silver Foot deal.
“I know Billy Smith, that trains The Dutchman,” hazarded Langdon; “he's a boozer.”
“I'm glad of that--I mean, that you know Smith,” declared Crane. “I happen to know the owner--his name is Baker. His racing is what might be called indiscriminate, and like men of that class he sometimes blunders upon a good horse without knowing it; and I doubt very much but that if he knew all about the other race--how bad Lauzanne really is; how the mare, Lucretia--well--got shut off, and couldn't get through her horses, say--of course his own trainer, Smith, would have to tell these things, you understand. In fact, if he knew the exact truth, he might take a reasonable offer for The Dutchman.”
Langdon nodded approvingly. He loved his subtle master; cards up his sleeves tingled his nerves, and loaded dice were a joy for evermore.
Crane proceeded to unwind the silken cord. “Naturally Smith would hate to lose a fair horse out of his stable, and would, perhaps, attempt to thwart any deal; so I think you might remunerate him for his loss.”