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Silent amidst the shouting throng, George thought: 'My horse! my horse! and tears of pure emotion sprang into his eyes. For a full minute he stood quite still; then, instinctively adjusting hat and tie, made his way calmly to the Paddock. He left it to his trainer to lead the Ambler back, and joined him at the weighing-room.
Old Mat, Jim Silver, and the great horse stood on the edge of the throng, quite unconcerned. Many noticed them; not a few essayed enquiries. "Is your jockey a gal, Mr. Woodburn?" "So they says," answered Old Mat. "Where's Miss Woodburn then?" "Inside, they tell me." He nodded to the door of the weighing-room, which opened at the moment.
Just as he spoke old Neb returned, with the superb mare behind him, saddled, bridled, ready for the race, fretting at her bit, impatient of the crowds and noise. "Who knows whether he's coming, at all?" said Holton, a bit dashed at sight of the fine mare's superb condition, but still sneering. "Nobody's seen him." Neb looked off toward the weighing-room.
Even the strong, active porters, who sprang at huge trunks piled on cabs, and carried them off to the weighing-room, were different from other porters, more important, part of a great scheme, and their actions added to her excitement. She liked the way that an alert guard put her into her compartment, as if he were posting a letter in a hurry, and had others to post.
Behind, over the wide archway, closed fortress-like by heavy doors at night, were the head-lad's and helpers' quarters. On either side, forge and weighing-room, saddler's and doctor's shop. To right and left a range of stable doors, with round swing-lights between each; and, above these, the windows of hay and straw lofts and of the boys' dormitories.
I I saw all the horses, and they were splendid," he added, enthusiasm gaining over fear. "I saw the stables, and the weighing-room, and everything. I never enjoyed myself so much before. I told Chaplin I would tell you, because he ought not to be blamed, you know. I did mean to tell you directly I came in. But all those people were here." Richard's face darkened. "And you remember what happened?
Anyway, the downs were black with people, and the stands were black with more people, and the paddock was packed with black people. But of all these people none concealed beneath a mask of impassivity a heart more anxious than Lord Newmarket's. He wandered restlessly into the weighing-room. He weighed himself. He had gone down a pound. He wandered out again.
Four-Pound-the Second's jockey had already disappeared into the weighing-room. "Ain't done yet," screamed the jockey vengefully as he passed. "You're never done," said Silver quietly, as he stroked the muzzle of the reeking brown. "Never could take a licking like a gentleman!" The jockey, beside himself, leaned out toward the other. "Want it across the mug, do ye, Silver?" he yelled.
All had been sure there would be hanky-panky. As they came shoving off the course into the Paddock, and heaved about the weighing-room, the howl subdued into a buzz as of a swarm of angry bees. The thousands were waiting for a sign, and the growl that rose from them was broken only by groans, cat-calls, whistles, and vengeful bursts of Hands off and no hanky-panky!
The rougher elements amongst Ikey's Own sought a scape-goat. They found him in Joses. Chukkers came out of the weighing-room and deliberately struck the fat man. That started it: the crowd did the rest. Old Mat and Jim Silver waited on the outskirts of the hub-bub. The American Ambassador and his tall dark daughter stood near by. "What stories they tell," said the great man in his gentle way.
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