They pushed out into the sea again, and were buffeted of the human waves; from time to time Old Bill anchored for a few seconds in the tiny harbor which surrounded each bookmaker; but it was as though they were all in league--the same odds on every list.
“It's same as a 'sociation book,” he grunted; “de cut holds in every blasted one of 'em. Here's Jakey Faust,” he added, suddenly; “let's try him.”
“What price's Laxcen?” he asked of the fat bookmaker.
“What race is he in?” questioned the penciler.
Mortimer interposed. “The gentleman means Lauzanne,” he explained.
Faust glared in the speaker's face. “Why th' 'll don't he talk English then; I'm no Chinaman, or a mind reader, to guess what he wants. Lauzanne is nine to one; how much dye want?”
“Lay me ten?” asked Old Bill of the bookmaker.
“A hun'red; an' me frien' wants a hun'red on, too.”
“I'll do it,” declared Faust, impatiently. “Ten hundred to one, Lauzanne!” he called over his shoulder to his clerk, taking the bettor's money; “an' the number is--?”
“Twenty-five, tree-four-six!” answered Old Bill. “Pass him yer dust,” he continued, turning to his companion.
“A thousand-to-hundred-Lauzanne, win; an' the number is” he stretched out his hand, and turning over Mortimer's dangling badge, read aloud, “Twenty-five, three-five-seven.”
He took a sharp look at the two men; his practised eye told him they were not plungers, more of the class that usually bet ten dollars at the outside; they were evidently betting on information; two one-hundred-dollar bets coming together on Lauzanne probably meant stable money.
“Let's git out, mister,” cried Old Bill, clutching Mortimer's arm.
Faust heard this and laughed derisively. “You won't need nothin' to show for this money,” he said.
“We'll be roun' at de back in a few minutes fer a couple of t'ou',” retorted Old Bill. “Let's cut trough here,” he added to his companion, making a passage between the bookmakers.
Bill's knowledge of the local geography was good, and skirting the crowd they were soon out on the lawn.
“Let's watch de parade,” Mortimer's adjutant suggested, and he led the way down to the course, where they stood against the rail, waiting.
During this time there was a bustle of much interest in the paddock. Allis, ready dressed in the Porter colors, had been driven to the course half an hour before the time set for the Derby. Her face was as satisfactorily disguised with dust as though she had ridden three races.