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He had not studied men all these years without learning to read young and old with creditable accuracy. Thomas was as easy to read as an amateur's scorecard; runs were runs, hits were hits, outs were outs. Why, Thomas wouldn't have stolen an apple from a farmer's orchard without permission. What, enter a carriage in a fog, steal a necklace, and carry it around with him for months?
"Lu-Lu" had won, and the crowd on the grand stand and the hangers-on around the track were cheering themselves hoarse. Clear through the noisy clamour shrilled a woman's cry. "Ah I have dropped my scorecard." A man in front of her turned. "I have an extra one, madame. Will you accept it?" Her small, modishly-gloved hand closed eagerly on it before she lifted her eyes to his face.
I had no suspicion that for the last half-hour I had been standing next to my " She interrupted him by an imperious gesture. Still clutching the scorecard she half-turned from him. Again he smiled, this time with a tinge of scorn, and shifted his eyes to the track. None of the people around them had noticed the little by-play.
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