"McCarren," and "Murphy" all made handsome wagers.

From time to time a sporty-looking man standing beside a ticker, shouted
the odds and read off the returns. Felix heard with straining ears:

"They're off!"

"Baby leads at the quarter."

"Susan is gaining!"

"They're on the stretch!"

"Satan wins by a nose--Peter second."

There was a deafening uproar, hats were tossed ceilingward, and great
wads of money were passed out by the "trusted cashier" to indifferent
millionaires. Felix wanted to rush in and bet at once on something--if
he waited it might be too late. Was it necessary to be introduced to the
cashier? No? Would he take the bet? All right, but--

At that moment a page elbowed his way among the money calling
plaintively for "Felix! Mr. Felix." Shrinking at the thought of such
publicity in such distinguished company, Felix caught the boy's arm and
learned that he was wanted at the telephone booth in the hotel.

"It must be 'Mac,'" said Nelson. "Now don't make any mistake!" Felix
promised to use the utmost care.

It was "Mac."