"Now I must go," he continued; "an' ye needn't come in the paddock--if
the b'y is there, I'll sind him out."
When Alan's seeker returned to Old Bill, he said, "Mr. Gaynor thinks
your choice might come in first."
"Why was Irish steerin' you clear of de paddock?" asked the other.
"I suppose it was to save me the expense of buying a ticket for it."
The other man said nothing further, but the remembrance of Mike's wink
convinced him that this was not the sole reason.
They waited for young Porter's appearance, but he did not come. "The
geezer yer waitin' fer is not in dere or he'd a-showed up," said Old
Bill; "an' if yer goin' to take de tip, we'd better skip to de ring an'
see what's doin'."
Mortimer had once visited the stock exchange in New York. He could not
help but think how like unto it was the betting ring with its horde of
pushing, struggling humans, as he wormed his way in, following close on
Old Bill's heels. There was a sort of mechanical aptness in his
leader's way of displacing men in his path. Mortimer realized that but
for his guide he never would have penetrated beyond the outer shell of
the buzzing hive. Even then he hoped that he might, by the direction of
chance, see Alan Porter.
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