"The one with the Panama hat pulled down over his eyes is your husband?"
he asked.
"Yes," assented the widow. Her tone showed slight surprise.
"This was taken about a year ago?" inquired Ford. "Must have been," he
answered himself; "they haven't raced at the Bay since then. This was
taken in front of the club stand--probably for the _Telegraph?_" He
lifted his eyes inquiringly.
Rising on her elbow the young wife bent forward toward the photograph.
"Does it say that there," she asked doubtfully. "How did you guess
that?"
In his role as chorus the ship's doctor exclaimed with enthusiasm:
"Didn't I tell you? He's wonderful."
Ford cut him off impatiently. "You never saw a rail as high as that
except around a race-track," he muttered. "And the badge in his
buttonhole and the angle of the stand all show--"
He interrupted himself to address the widow. "This is an owner's badge.
What was the name of his stable?"
"I don't know," she answered. She regarded the young man with sudden
uneasiness. "They only owned one horse, but I believe that gave them the
privilege of--"
"I see," exclaimed Ford. "Your husband is a bookmaker.
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