"Mr. Jones."

Jones, for it was indeed he, drew back sharply, and looked closely at Shirley. Then he smiled slightly.

"Smith?" he asked.

"Yes," said Shirley briefly.

"Good. Come with me."

Shirley followed the man back into the hotel. At the far side of the lobby was a door leading to the dining-room. Jones led the way inside, Shirley following close at his heels.

He selected a small table at the far end of the dining-room, and the two sat down.

"We can talk here undisturbed," said Jones.

Their orders given, Jones leaned back in his chair.

"I wouldn't have recognized you," he said, looking at Shirley sharply.

"I was beginning to think you would not come," said Shirley.

"My train was late," Jones responded. "I had to hustle to get here as soon as I did."

He was silent for some moments. Shirley said nothing, waiting for Jones to open the conversation.

"So," said the man after the food had been set before them, "you have decided to accept my offer, eh?"

Shirley thought it good policy not to appear too anxious.

"It all depends upon what you want me to do," she replied.

Jones looked at her long and carefully.

"Well," he said at length, "I'll tell you. You understand, of course, that it will not be healthy for you to repeat anything I may say?"

Shirley nodded a.s.sent.

"And that if you play me false, you will get the worst of it?"

Again Shirley nodded.

"Good. I don't need to go into details, but what I want is this: I want you to see that Gabriel does not win the Derby. In other words, I want you to 'pull' him."

"Pull him!" echoed Shirley.

This was a language she did not understand.

"Yes. Surely you know what pulling means?"

"Well, no, not exactly," replied Shirley hesitatingly.

"What kind of a jockey do you call yourself?" sneered Jones. "By pulling I mean holding Gabriel back so that some other horse may finish ahead of him."

"I see," said Shirley. "And have you selected the horse that is to win the race?"

"Yes. Jupiter, owned by the bookmakers."

"And that is all you want me to do?"

"That is all."

"And you are willing to pay me $500 for that?"

"Yes."

Shirley was silent, apparently considering. Jones waited perhaps five minutes for her to speak, and then said:

"Well, what do you say?"

Shirley rose from her chair.

"I'll do it," she said quietly. "When do I get the money?"

"After the Derby."

"Very well," said Shirley, "you may count upon me to do my best."

"That's all, then," said Jones, also rising. "I will make it a point to see you just before the race starts."

He walked to the door with the supposed traitorous jockey. There Shirley stopped for another word.

"One thing," she said. "Send me no messages and do not come to see me.

It would be too risky."

"Right you are," said Jones. "Good-bye."

He turned on his heel and left without another word. Shirley also made her way from the hotel. Her eyes fell upon a clock in a window.

"Eight o'clock," she said. "I can't go to Clara's yet. They will all see me. What shall I do to pa.s.s the time?"

She debated the point at length.

"I'll stop in this drug store and have an ice cream soda, anyhow," she finally decided.

This refreshment disposed of, Shirley reached for her purse. For the moment she forgot she was dressed in boys' clothes, but in an instant she remembered, and thrust her hand in her pocket; and she drew it out with a cry of dismay.

She had forgotten to put her purse in her pocket, and she had no money, and there was the ice cream soda to be paid for.