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Updated: May 9, 2025
But the trouble was, Christie, you simply jumped on me without even asking how it occurred. You took it for granted I was late on purpose to spite you." "Well, weren't you?" and the girl glanced inquiringly up into his face, as they passed out of the alley into the light of the Trocadero's windows. "You certainly acted that way."
Then for a period of nine years the count's stable had a run of ill-luck, its horses always starting as prime favorites and being as invariably beaten. This was Trocadéro's fate in 1867. He was a great favorite, and had, moreover, on this occasion the assistance of his stable-companion Mongoubert, a horse of first-rate qualities.
The glow of the Trocadero's lights served, an instant, to reveal his face, shaded by the broad brim of his hat, and then he vanished into the dark. Keith leaning far out, yet keeping well within the shadows, heard the faint creak of the vestibule door and the soft murmur of distant voices. Then he drew back suddenly, his hand again grasping Fairbain.
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