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It was a time of relief and realization. The Great Depression was over but as dawn broke on a cool September day in 1935, a bookmaker, a gangster, and a terrorist were going to learn some boats don’t float, even on a rising tide. It had been thirty years since a racehorse won the English Triple Crown and a handsome three year old bay colt was poised to scale that pinnacle. A win would reward a calculating punter with fathomless wealth, leaving the also-rans worse off and vulnerable.