The Mystery at Saratoga

their room for a good night’s sleep before their early wake-up call. Honey fell asleep almost immediately, but Trixie stared at the ceiling, trying to decide if she’d done the right thing in persuading Honey to hide their new evidence from her parents. I’d rather face a gang of crooks with their guns drawn than have to decide what’s best for someone else , she thought. What if Regan does need help—needs it right now—and my decision keeps him from getting it?
    “Well, right or wrong, the decision has been made,” she murmured finally. “I’ll just have to live with it until something happens to change my mind.” Then she rolled over and went to sleep.
    The two girls were sleepy-eyed the next morning as they dressed, met Mr. Wheeler in the lobby, and rode with him to the track, but the excitement of the workouts soon had them wide-awake.
    “This is like a sixty-two-ring circus!” Trixie exclaimed as she tried to get her bearings in the bustle of activity.
    Mr. Worthington, who had been on hand to greet them and was now standing with them near the fence that bordered the track, chuckled at Trixie’s amazement. “It is that,” he agreed. “You see, Trixie, these workouts are extremely important for many reasons. They limber up the horses, helping to prevent injuries during the races. They give the horse and jockey a chance to get to know each other. They also give the trainers a chance to detect injuries that mean the horse shouldn’t be run that afternoon. But those of us who have a stake in the outcome of the day’s races view these workouts as a necessary evil, at best.”
    “Evil?” Trixie questioned. “With everything you’ve just said, the workouts sound like a good idea to me.”
    “There’s another side to the workouts, too,” Mr. Worthington continued. “They provide an opportunity for other trainers and owners to see all the horses before they race. They provide an opportunity for the timers who work for the racing sheets to time the horses and publish the workout times the same day, which can affect the betting on a race. In short, they lessen the element of surprise, which is vital in racing. That’s why there’s such a hubbub at the track during the workouts: Everyone is trying to give his horse a good warm-up without giving away any information.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t understand how the need for secrecy creates so much activity,” Honey said. “I mean, I always think of secrecy as being something—well, quiet. It certainly isn’t quiet here,” she concluded, looking around her.
    “The best way to explain is to show you some examples,” Mr. Worthington said. “Example number one. Do you see that chestnut horse down at the turn? His jockey is walking him quietly, as though he had nothing on his mind but a leisurely ride. But do you see those two men over there, who seem to be absorbed in conversation? They’re the owner and the trainer of that horse. Now, I’ll make a prediction. When the horse rounds the turn, the jockey will suddenly urge him into a full gallop, the men’s conversation will cease, and they’ll each pull a stopwatch out of their pocket. The jockey will run the horse for a half-mile, the owner and trainer will have a time on him, and if they’re lucky, their little game will have worked and no one else will have seen what they were doing in time to clock the horse.”
    Trixie and Honey both looked at the horse and rider, then at the two men Mr. Worthington had pointed out, then looked back at their host as if they were a little worried about his sanity. The two men were completely absorbed in their conversation, not even glancing at the horse; and the jockey was slouching in the saddle as if he were not even aware that he was riding. Mr. Worthington, sensing their disbelief, just smiled and signaled to the two girls to pay attention as the horse came round the turn.
    Suddenly, the horse burst into a run and Mr. Worthington’s prediction came true before the two girls’ startled eyes. They watched, awestruck, as the horse completed the half-mile run. Glancing over at the two men, the girls saw them checking their stopwatches. When the girls turned back to Mr. Worthington, they chuckled as they saw that he, too, had pulled out a stopwatch and was now calculating the horse’s time. “It was only an average run,” he said with exaggerated calm, enjoying the astonishment he had created in his two young guests. “It’s really much more