The race was all Flamingo's own, and the mob was going wild, when all of a sudden a woman--the widow of a racing-man gone suddenly mad--rushed out in front of the horse, snatched at its bridle with a shrill cry and down she came, and down Flamingo and the jockey came, a melee of crushed humanity.

And that was how I lost my last two thousand five hundred pounds, as I said at the Logan Trial." "Oh! Oh!" said Kitty Tynan, her face aflame, her eyes like topaz suns, her hands wringing.

"Oh, that was--oh, poor Flamingo!" she added.
A strange smile shot into Crozier's face, and the dark passion of reminiscence fled from his eyes.

"Yes, you are right, little friend," he said.

"That was the real tragedy after all.