the day of Lauzanne's triumph. Two burly men sat behind her. They,
surely, did not affect perfumery. Higher up the stand her eye searched
--four rows back sat the woman Alan had said was Langdon's sister. There
was no forgetting the flamboyant brilliancy of her apparel. But the
almost fancied zephyr of stephanotis was mingling with the rustle at her
elbow; she turned her head inquiringly in that direction, and Crane's
eyes peeped at her over the stone wall of their narrow lids. He was
standing in the passage just beyond her father, now looking wistfully at
the vacant seat on her left.

"Good afternoon, Miss Porter--how are you, Porter? May I sit here with
you and see Lucretia win?"

"Come in, come in!" answered Porter, frankly.

"I was sitting with some friends higher up in the stand, when I saw you
here, and thought I'd like to make one of the victorious party."

Allis knew who the friends were; the clinging touch of stephanotis had
come with him. The discrepancy in Crane's sentiments jarred on Allis.
That other day this woman had been his trainer's sister, recognized for
politic purposes; to-day he had been sitting with "friends."

Topping the rail in the distance, just where the course kinked a little
to the left, Allis could see the blur of many colored silks in the
sunlight. Then it seemed to flatten down almost level with the rail, as
the horses broadened out to the earth in racing spread and the riders
clung low to the galloping colts, for they had started.

"There they come," said Crane. "What's in the lead, Porter?" Porter did