"He's a low cad," said Watson.
"I knew what I was doing. I went into it with my eyes open."
He wondered just how he was going to enter the foal in the stud book.
Although it would be of impeccable ancestry its escutcheon would be
marred by a bend sinister.
Some months later, Incubus called Watson to her stall.
"What is it, Inky?"
"I don't know how to tell you this, Watson. I've got to go back."
"Back! Back where, Inky girl?"
"Back where I came from. Oh, I might have known it was never to be,
that you can't wipe out the past. Still I'd hoped that somehow--some
way.... But the Big Bookie says no. I've got to go back where I came
from--I don't belong here. He says I was sent as a punishment, not as a
reward."
She extended a hoof toward Watson's hand. "I had my baby tonight,
Watson. Take good care of her--she's half equine, so she can stay
here--and she'll be the fastest thing on earth when she grows up.
Prunella'll help you raise her and support the family."
Watson wiped his streaming eyes. "I'll take care of your baby,
Incubus," he vowed. "I'll call her Incubus Two and I'll treat her as if
she were my own daughter."
"I knew I could count on you, Watson. Well--this is goodbye."
Incubus slowly vanished.
It was hard losing Incubus. He'd grown attached to her, looking on her
not only as a horse but a friend. Still, at least he had the colt. In
two years she would take up where her mother had left off and again the
Watson name would reverberate through the racetracks.
He went inside the stall, looked down at Incubus' daughter, who reposed
on the hay looking up at him with big blue eyes. He gasped.
He had forgotten. Incubus was not a real horse, she was merely a demon
in the shape of a horse.
Incubus Two was not in the shape of a horse.