Colors

Find it at alibris.com
( 4.4/5.0 ★ | 307 downloads )
-- Click the link to download --

https://click.linksynergy.com/link?id=*C/UgjGtUZ8&offerid=1494105.26
539780312504250&type=15&murl=https%3A%2F%2F2.zoppoz.workers.dev%3A443%2Fhttp%2Fwww.alibris.com%2Fsearch%2
Fbooks%2Fisbn%2F9780312504250
Colors

ISBN: 9780312504250
Category: Media > Books
File Fomat: PDF, EPUB, DOC...
File Details: 17.8 MB
Language: English
Website: alibris.com
Short description: The item shows wear from consistent use, but it
remains in good condition and works perfectly. All pages and cover are
intact (including the dust cover, if applicable). Spine may show signs
of wear. Pages may include limited notes and highlighting. May NOT
include discs, access code or other supplemental materials.

DOWNLOAD: https://click.linksynergy.com/link?id=*C/UgjGtUZ8&
offerid=1494105.26539780312504250&type=15&murl=http%3A%2F%2F
www.alibris.com%2Fsearch%2Fbooks%2Fisbn%2F9780312504250
 Colors

• Click the link: https://click.linksynergy.com/link?id=*C/UgjGtUZ8&offerid=1494105.2653978031250425

0&type=15&murl=https%3A%2F%2F2.zoppoz.workers.dev%3A443%2Fhttp%2Fwww.alibris.com%2Fsearch%2Fbooks%2Fisbn%2F9780312504250 to do
latest version of Colors in multiple formats such as PDF, EPUB, and more.

• Don’t miss the chance to explore our extensive collection of high-quality resources, books, and guides on
our website. Visit us regularly to stay updated with new titles and gain access to even more valuable
materials.
.
about to feel the extent of my prison. One way I could touch the
opposite sides at once easily with my hands, the other way it was
wider—perhaps a little more than six feet altogether. What was this?
Was this to be my fearful end, cooped in this tank while the water
rose by inches to choke me? Already the water was a foot deep. I
flung myself at the sides, I beat the pitiless iron with fists, face and
head, I screamed and implored. Then it struck me that I might at
least stop the inlet of water. I put out my hand and felt the falling
stream, then found the inlet and stopped it with my fingers. But
water still poured in with a resounding splash; there was another
opening at the opposite end, which I could not reach without
releasing the one I now held! I was but prolonging my agony. Oh,
the devilish cunning that had devised those two inlets, so far apart!
Again I beat the sides, broke my nails with tearing at the corners,
screamed and entreated in my agony. I was mad, but with no dulling
of the senses, for the horrors of my awful, helpless state,
overwhelmed my brain, keen and perceptive to every ripple of the
unceasing water.
In the height of my frenzy I held my breath, for I heard a sound
from outside. I shouted again—implored some quicker death. Then
there was a scraping on the lid above me, and it was raised at one
edge, and let in the light of a candle. I sprang from my knees and
forced the lid back, and the candle flame danced before me. The
candle was held by a dusty man, a workman apparently, who stared
at me with scared eyes, and said nothing but, "Goo' lor'!"
Overhead were the rafters of a gabled roof, and tilted against them
was the thick beam which, jammed across from one sloping rafter to
another, had held the tank-lid fast. "Help me!" I gasped. "Help me
out!"
The man took me by the armpits and hauled me, dripping and half
dead, over the edge of the tank, into which the water still poured,
making a noise in the hollow iron that half drowned our voices. The
man had been at work on the cistern of a neighbouring house, and
hearing an uncommon noise, he had climbed through the spaces left
in the party walls to give passage along under the roofs to the
builders' men. Among the joists at our feet was the trap-door
through which, drugged and insensible, I had been carried, to be
flung into that horrible cistern.
With the help of my friend the workman I made shift to climb
through by the way he had come. We got back to the house where
he had been at work, and there the people gave me brandy and lent
me dry clothes. I made haste to send for the police, but when they
arrived Mrs. Crofting and her respectable spouse had gone. Some
unusual noise in the roof must have warned them. And when the
police, following my directions further, got to the offices of
Dorrington and Hicks, those acute professional men had gone too,
but in such haste that the contents of the office, papers and
everything else, had been left just as they stood.
The plot was clear now. The followings, the footsteps, the face at
the window, the label on the door—all were a mere humbug
arranged by Dorrington for his own purpose, which was to drive me
into his power and get my papers from me. Armed with these, and
with his consummate address and knowledge of affairs, he could go
to Mr. Mowbray in the character of Mr. James Rigby, sell my land in
South Australia, and have the whole of my property transferred to
himself from Sydney. The rest of my baggage was at his rooms; if
any further proof were required it might be found there. He had
taken good care that I should not meet Mr. Mowbray—who, by the
way, I afterwards found had not left his office, and had never fired a
gun in his life. At first I wondered that Dorrington had not made
some murderous attempt on me at the shooting place in Scotland.
But a little thought convinced me that that would have been bad
policy for him. The disposal of the body would be difficult, and he
would have to account somehow for my sudden disappearance.
Whereas, by the use of his Italian assistant and his murder
apparatus at Highgate I was made to efface my own trail, and could
be got rid of in the end with little trouble; for my body, stripped of
everything that might identify me, would be simply that of a
drowned man unknown, whom nobody could identify. The whole plot
was contrived upon the information I myself had afforded Dorrington
during the voyage home. And it all sprang from his remembering the
report of my father's death. When the papers in the office came to
be examined, there each step in the operations was plainly revealed.
There was a code telegram from Suez directing Hicks to hire a
grouse moor. There were telegrams and letters from Scotland giving
directions as to the later movements; indeed the thing was displayed
completely. The business of Dorrington and Hicks had really been
that of private inquiry agents, and they had done much bonâ fide
business; but many of their operations had been of a more than
questionable sort. And among their papers were found complete
sets, neatly arranged in dockets, each containing in skeleton a
complete history of a case. Many of these cases were of a most
interesting character, and I have been enabled to piece together, out
of the material thus supplied, the narratives which will follow this. As
to my own case, it only remains to say that as yet neither
Dorrington, Hicks, nor the Croftings have been caught. They played
in the end for a high stake (they might have made six figures of me
if they had killed me, and the first figure would not have been a
one) and they lost by a mere accident. But I have often wondered
how many of the bodies which the coroners' juries of London have
returned to be "Found Drowned" were drowned, not where they
were picked up, but in that horrible tank at Highgate. What the drug
was that gave Mrs. Crofting's coffee its value in Dorrington's eyes I
do not know, but plainly it had not been sufficient in my case to
keep me unconscious against the shock of cold water till I could be
drowned altogether. Months have passed since my adventure, but
even now I sweat at the sight of an iron tank.
 THE CASE OF JANISSARY

II

I
In this case (and indeed in most of the others) the notes and other
documents found in the dockets would, by themselves, give but a
faint outline of the facts, and, indeed, might easily be unintelligible
to many people, especially as for much of my information I have
been indebted to outside inquiries. Therefore I offer no excuse for
presenting the whole thing digested into plain narrative form, with
little reference to my authorities. Though I knew none of the actors
in it, with the exception of the astute Dorrington, the case was
especially interesting to me, as will be gathered from the narrative
itself.
The only paper in the bundle which I shall particularly allude to was
a newspaper cutting, of a date anterior by nine or ten months to the
events I am to write of. It had evidently been cut at the time it
appeared, and saved, in case it might be useful, in a box in the form
of a book, containing many hundreds of others. From this receptacle
it had been taken, and attached to the bundle during the progress of
the case. I may say at once that the facts recorded had no direct
concern with the case of the horse Janissary, but had been useful in
affording a suggestion to Dorrington in connection therewith. The
matter is the short report of an ordinary sort of inquest, and I here
transcribe it.
"Dr. McCulloch held an inquest yesterday on the body of Mr. Henry
Lawrence, whose body was found on Tuesday morning last in the
river near Vauxhall Bridge. The deceased was well known in certain
sporting circles. Sophia Lawrence, the widow, said that deceased
had left home on Monday afternoon at about five, in his usual
health, saying that he was to dine at a friend's, and she saw nothing
more of him till called upon to identify the body. He had no reason
for suicide, and so far as witness knew, was free from pecuniary
embarrassments. He had, indeed, been very successful in betting
recently. He habitually carried a large pocket-book, with papers in it.
Mr. Robert Naylor, commission agent, said that deceased dined with
him that evening at his house in Gold Street, Chelsea, and left for
home at about half-past eleven. He had at the time a sum of nearly
four hundred pounds upon him, chiefly in notes, which had been
paid him by witness in settlement of a bet. It was a fine night, and
deceased walked in the direction of Chelsea Embankment. That was
the last witness saw of him. He might not have been perfectly sober,
but he was not drunk, and was capable of taking care of himself.
The evidence of the Thames police went to show that no money was
on the body when found, except a few coppers, and no pocket-book.
Dr. William Hodgetts said that death was due to drowning. There
were some bruises on the arms and head which might have been
caused before death. The body was a very healthy one. The coroner
said that there seemed to be a very strong suspicion of foul play,
unless the pocket-book of the deceased had got out of his pocket in
the water; but the evidence was very meagre, although the police
appeared to have made every possible inquiry. The jury returned a
verdict of 'Found Drowned, though how the deceased came into the
water there was no evidence to show.'"
I know no more of the unfortunate man Lawrence than this, and I
have only printed the cutting here because it probably induced
Dorrington to take certain steps in the case I am dealing with. With
that case the fate of the man Lawrence has nothing whatever to do.
He passes out of the story entirely.
II
Mr. Warren Telfer was a gentleman of means, and the owner of a
few—very few—racehorses. But he had a great knack of buying
hidden prizes in yearlings, and what his stable lacked in quantity it
often more than made up for in quality. Thus he had once bought a
St. Leger winner for as little as a hundred and fifty pounds. Many will
remember his bitter disappointment of ten or a dozen years back,
when his horse, Matfelon, starting an odds-on favourite for the Two
Thousand, never even got among the crowd, and ambled in streets
behind everything. It was freely rumoured (and no doubt with
cause) that Matfelon had been "got at" and in some way "nobbled."
There were hints of a certain bucket of water administered just
before the race—a bucket of water observed in the hands, some said
of one, some said of another person connected with Ritter's training
establishment. There was no suspicion of pulling, for plainly the
jockey was doing his best with the animal all the way along, and
never had a tight rein. So a nobbling it must have been, said the
knowing ones, and Mr. Warren Telfer said so too, with much
bitterness. More, he immediately removed his horses from Ritter's
stables, and started a small training place of his own for his own
horses merely; putting an old steeplechase jockey in charge, who
had come out of a bad accident permanently lame, and had fallen on
evil days.
The owner was an impulsive and violent-tempered man, who, once a
notion was in his head, held to it through everything, and in spite of
everything. His misfortune with Matfelon made him the most
insanely distrustful man alive. In everything he fancied he saw a
trick, and to him every man seemed a scoundrel. He could scarce
bear to let the very stable-boys touch his horses, and although for
years all went as well as could be expected in his stables, his
suspicious distrust lost nothing of its virulence. He was perpetually
fussing about the stables, making surprise visits, and laying futile
traps that convicted nobody. The sole tangible result of this
behaviour was a violent quarrel between Mr. Warren Telfer and his
nephew Richard, who had been making a lengthened stay with his
uncle. Young Telfer, to tell the truth, was neither so discreet nor so
exemplary in behaviour as he might have been, but his temper was
that characteristic of the family, and when he conceived that his
uncle had an idea that he was communicating stable secrets to
friends outside, there was an animated row, and the nephew betook
himself and his luggage somewhere else. Young Telfer always
insisted, however, that his uncle was not a bad fellow on the whole,
though he had habits of thought and conduct that made him
altogether intolerable at times. But the uncle had no good word for
his graceless nephew; and indeed Richard Telfer betted more than
he could afford, and was not so particular in his choice of sporting
acquaintances as a gentleman should have been.
Mr. Warren Telfer's house, "Blackhall," and his stables were little
more than two miles from Redbury, in Hampshire; and after the
quarrel Mr. Richard Telfer was not seen near the place for many
months—not, indeed, till excitement was high over the forthcoming
race for the Redbury Stakes, for which there was an entry from the
stable—Janissary, for long ranked second favourite; and then the
owner's nephew did not enter the premises, and, in fact, made his
visit as secret as possible.
I have said that Janissary was long ranked second favourite for the
Redbury Stakes, but a little more than a week before the race he
became first favourite, owing to a training mishap to the horse
fancied first, which made its chances so poor that it might have been
scratched at any moment. And so far was Janissary above the class
of the field (though it was a two-year-old race, and there might be a
surprise) that it at once went to far shorter odds than the previous
favourite, which, indeed, had it run fit and well, would have found
Janissary no easy colt to beat.
Mr. Telfer's nephew was seen near the stables but two or three days
before the race, and that day the owner despatched a telegram to
the firm of Dorrington & Hicks. In response to this telegram,
Dorrington caught the first available train for Redbury, and was with
Mr. Warren Telfer in his library by five in the afternoon.
"It is about my horse Janissary that I want to consult you, Mr.
Dorrington," said Mr. Telfer. "It's right enough now—or at least was
right at exercise this morning—but I feel certain that there's some
diabolical plot on hand somewhere to interfere with the horse before
the Redbury Stakes day, and I'm sorry to have to say that I suspect
my own nephew to be mixed up in it in some way. In the first place I
may tell you that there is no doubt whatever that the colt, if let
alone, and bar accident, can win in a canter. He could have won
even if Herald, the late favourite, had kept well, for I can tell you
that Janissary is a far greater horse than anybody is aware of
outside my establishment—or at any rate, than anybody ought to be
aware of, if the stable secrets are properly kept. His pedigree is
nothing very great, and he never showed his quality till quite lately,
in private trials. Of course it has leaked out somehow that the colt is
exceptionally good—I don't believe I can trust a soul in the place.
How should the price have gone up to five to four unless somebody
had been telling what he's paid not to tell? But that isn't all, as I
have said. I've a conviction that something's on foot—somebody
wants to interfere with the horse. Of course we get a tout about now
and again, but the downs are pretty big, and we generally manage
to dodge them if we want to. On the last three or four mornings,
however, wherever Janissary might be taking his gallop, there was a
big, hulking fellow, with a red beard and spectacles—not so much
watching the horse as trying to get hold of the lad. I am always up
and out at five, for I've found to my cost—you remember about
Matfelon—that if a man doesn't want to be ramped he must never
take his eye off things. Well, I have scarcely seen the lad ease the
colt once on the last three or four mornings without that red-
bearded fellow bobbing up from a knoll, or a clump of bushes, or
something, close by—especially if Janissary was a bit away from the
other horses, and not under my nose, or the head lad's, for a
moment. I rode at the fellow, of course, when I saw what he was
after, but he was artful as a cartload of monkeys, and vanished
somehow before I could get near him. The head lad believes he has
seen him about just after dark, too; but I am keeping the stable lads
in when they're not riding, and I suppose he finds he has no chance
of getting at them except when they're out with the horses. This
morning, not only did I see this fellow about, as usual, but, I am
ashamed to say, I observed my own nephew acting the part of a
common tout. He certainly had the decency to avoid me and clear
out, but that was not all, as you shall see. This morning, happening
to approach the stables from the back, I suddenly came upon the
red-bearded man—giving money to a groom of mine! He ran off at
once, as you may guess, and I discharged the groom where he
stood, and would not allow him into the stables again. He offered no
explanation or excuse, but took himself off, and half an hour
afterward I almost sent away my head boy too. For when I told him
of the dismissal, he admitted that he had seen that same groom
taking money of my nephew at the back of the stables, an hour
before, and had not informed me! He said that he thought that as it
was 'only Mr. Richard' it didn't matter. Fool! Anyway, the groom has
gone, and, so far as I can tell as yet, the colt is all right. I examined
him at once, of course; and I also turned over a box that Weeks, the
groom, used to keep brushes and odd things in. There I found this
paper full of powder. I don't yet know what it is, but it's certainly
nothing he had any business with in the stable. Will you take it?
"And now," Mr. Telfer went on, "I'm in such an uneasy state that I
want your advice and assistance. Quite apart from the suspicious—
more than suspicious—circumstances I have informed you of, I am
certain—I know it without being able to give precise reasons—I am
certain that some attempt is being made at disabling Janissary
before Thursday's race. I feel it in my bones, so to speak. I had the
same suspicion just before that Two Thousand, when Matfelon was
got at. The thing was in the air, as it is now. Perhaps it's a sort of
instinct; but I rather think it is the result of an unconscious
absorption of a number of little indications about me. Be it as it may,
I am resolved to leave no opening to the enemy if I can help it, and
I want you to see if you can suggest any further precautions beyond
those I am taking. Come and look at the stables."
Dorrington could see no opening for any piece of rascality by which
he might make more of the case than by serving his client loyally, so
he resolved to do the latter. He followed Mr. Telfer through the
training stables, where eight or nine thoroughbreds stood, and could
suggest no improvement upon the exceptional precautions that
already existed.
"No," said Dorrington, "I don't think you can do any better than this
—at least on this, the inner line of defence. But it is best to make
the outer lines secure first. By the way, this isn't Janissary, is it? We
saw him farther up the row, didn't we?"
"Oh no, that's a very different sort of colt, though he does look like,
doesn't he? People who've been up and down the stables once or
twice often confuse them. They're both bays, much of a build, and
about the same height, and both have a bit of stocking on the same
leg, though Janissary's is bigger, and this animal has a white star.
But you never saw two creatures look so like and run so differently.
This is a dead loss—not worth his feed. If I can manage to wind him
up to something like a gallop I shall try to work him off in a selling
plate somewhere; but as far as I can see he isn't good enough even
for that. He's a disappointment. And his stock's far better than
Janissary's too, and he cost half as much again! Yearlings are a
lottery. Still, I've drawn a prize or two among them, at one time or
another."
"Ah yes, so I've heard. But now as to the outer defences I was
speaking of. Let us find out who is trying to interfere with your
horse. Do you mind letting me into the secrets of the stable
commissions?"
"Oh no. We're talking in confidence, of course. I've backed the colt
pretty heavily all round, but not too much anywhere. There's a good
slice with Barker—you know Barker, of course; Mullins has a
thousand down for him, and that was at five to one, before Herald
went amiss. Then there's Ford and Lascelles—both good men, and
Naylor—he's the smallest man of them all, and there's only a
hundred or two with him, though he's been laying the horse pretty
freely everywhere, at least until Herald went wrong. And there's
Pedder. But there must have been a deal of money laid to outside
backers, and there's no telling who may contemplate a ramp."
"Just so. Now as to your nephew. What of your suspicions in that
direction?"
"Perhaps I'm a little hasty as to that," Mr. Telfer answered, a little
ashamed of what he had previously said. "But I'm worried and
mystified, as you see, and hardly know what to think. My nephew
Richard is a little erratic, and he has a foolish habit of betting more
than he can afford. He and I quarrelled some time back, while he
was staying here, because I had an idea that he had been talking
too freely outside. He had, in fact; and I regarded it as a breach of
confidence. So there was a quarrel and he went away."
"Very well. I wonder if I can get a bed at the 'Crown,' at Redbury?
I'm afraid it'll be crowded, but I'll try."
"But why trouble? Why not stay with me, and be near the stables?"
"Because then I should be of no more use to you than one of your
lads. People who come out here every morning are probably staying
at Redbury, and I must go there after them."
III
The "Crown" at Redbury was full in anticipation of the races, but
Dorrington managed to get a room ordinarily occupied by one of the
landlord's family, who undertook to sleep at a friend's for a night or
two. This settled, he strolled into the yard, and soon fell into
animated talk with the hostler on the subject of the forthcoming
races. All the town was backing Janissary for the Stakes, the hostler
said, and he advised Dorrington to do the same.
During this conversation two men stopped in the street, just outside
the yard gate, talking. One was a big, heavy, vulgar-looking fellow in
a box-cloth coat, and with a shaven face and hoarse voice; the other
was a slighter, slimmer, younger and more gentlemanlike man,
though there was a certain patchy colour about his face that seemed
to hint of anything but teetotalism.
"There," said the hostler, indicating the younger of these two men,
"that's young Mr. Telfer, him as whose uncle's owner o' Janissary.
He's a young plunger, he is, and he's on Janissary too. He give me
the tip, straight, this mornin'. 'You put your little bit on my uncle's
colt,' he said. 'It's all right. I ain't such pals with the old man as I
was, but I've got the tip that his money's down on it. So don't
neglect your opportunities, Thomas,' he says; and I haven't. He's
stoppin' in our house, is young Mr. Richard."
"And who is that he is talking to? A bookmaker?"
"Yes, sir, that's Naylor—Bob Naylor. He's got Mr. Richard's bets.
P'raps he's puttin' on a bit more now."
The men at the gate separated, and the bookmaker walked off down
the street in the fast gathering dusk. Richard Telfer, however,
entered the house, and Dorrington followed him. Telfer mounted the
stairs and went into his room. Dorrington lingered a moment on the
stairs and then went and knocked at Telfer's door.
"Hullo!" cried Telfer, coming to the door and peering out into the
gloomy corridor.
"I beg pardon," Dorrington replied courteously. "I thought this was
Naylor's room."
"No—it's No. 23, by the end. But I believe he's just gone down the
street."
Dorrington expressed his thanks and went to his own room. He took
one or two small instruments from his bag and hurried stealthily to
the door of No. 23.
All was quiet, and the door opened at once to Dorrington's picklock,
for there was nothing but the common tumbler rim-lock to secure it.
Dorrington, being altogether an unscrupulous scoundrel, would have
thought nothing of entering a man's room thus for purposes of mere
robbery. Much less scruple had he in doing so in the present
circumstances. He lit the candle in a little pocket lantern, and,
having secured the door, looked quickly about the room. There was
nothing unusual to attract his attention, and he turned to two bags
lying near the dressing-table. One was the usual bookmaker's
satchel, and the other was a leather travelling-bag; both were
locked. Dorrington unbuckled the straps of the large bag, and
produced a slender picklock of steel wire, with a sliding joint, which,
with a little skilful "humouring," turned the lock in the course of a
minute or two. One glance inside was enough. There on the top lay
a large false beard of strong red, and upon the shirts below was a
pair of spectacles. But Dorrington went farther, and felt carefully
below the linen till his hand met a small, flat, mahogany box. This he
withdrew and opened. Within, on a velvet lining, lay a small silver
instrument resembling a syringe. He shut and replaced the box, and,
having rearranged the contents of the bag, shut, locked and
strapped it, and blew out his light. He had found what he came to
look for. In another minute Mr. Bob Naylor's door was locked behind
him, and Dorrington took his picklocks to his own room.
It was a noisy evening in the Commercial Room at the "Crown."
Chaff and laughter flew thick, and Richard Telfer threatened Naylor
with a terrible settling day. More was drunk than thirst strictly
justified, and everybody grew friendly with everybody else.
Dorrington, sober and keenly alert, affected the reverse, and
exhibited especial and extreme affection for Mr. Bob Naylor. His
advances were unsuccessful at first, but Dorrington's manner and
the "Crown" whisky overcame the bookmaker's reserve, and at
about eleven o'clock the two left the house arm in arm for a cooling
stroll in the High Street. Dorrington blabbed and chattered with
great success, and soon began about Janissary.
"So you've pretty well done all you want with Janissary, eh? Book
full? Ah! nothing like keeping a book even all round—it's the safest
way—'specially with such a colt as Janissary about. Eh, my boy?" He
nudged Naylor genially. "Ah! no doubt it's a good colt, but old Telfer
has rum notions about preparation, hasn't he?"
"I dunno," replied Naylor. "How do you mean?"
"Why, what does he have the horse led up and down behind the
stable for, half an hour every afternoon?"
"Didn't know he did."
"Ah! but he does. I came across it only this afternoon. I was coming
over the downs, and just as I got round behind Telfer's stables there
I saw a fine bay colt, with a white stocking on the off hind leg, well
covered up in a suit of clothes, being led up and down by a lad, like
a sentry—up and down, up and down—about twenty yards each
way, and nobody else about. 'Hullo!' says I to the lad, 'hullo! what
horse is this?' 'Janissary,' says the boy—pretty free for a stable-lad.
'Ah!' says I. 'And what are you walking him like that for?' 'Dunno,'
says the boy, 'but it's guv'nor's orders. Every afternoon, at two to
the minute, I have to bring him out here and walk him like this for
half an hour exactly, neither more nor less, and then he goes in and
has a handful of malt. But I dunno why.' 'Well,' says I, 'I never heard
of that being done before. But he's a fine colt,' and I put my hand
under the cloth and felt him—hard as nails and smooth as silk."
"And the boy let you touch him?"
"Yes; he struck me as a bit easy for a stable-boy. But it's an odd
trick, isn't it, that of the half-hour's walk and the handful of malt?
Never hear of anybody else doing it, did you?"
"No, I never did."
They talked and strolled for another quarter of an hour, and then
finished up with one more drink.
IV
The next was the day before the race, and in the morning
Dorrington, making a circuit, came to Mr. Warren Telfer's from the
farther side. As soon as they were assured of privacy: "Have you
seen the man with the red beard this morning?" asked Dorrington.
"No; I looked out pretty sharply, too."
"That's right. If you like to fall in with my suggestions, however, you
shall see him at about two o'clock, and take a handsome rise out of
him."
"Very well," Mr. Telfer replied. "What's your suggestion?"
"I'll tell you. In the first place, what's the value of that other horse
that looks so like Janissary?"
"Hamid is his name. He's worth—well, what he will fetch. I'll sell him
for fifty and be glad of the chance."
"Very good. Then you'll no doubt be glad to risk his health
temporarily to make sure of the Redbury Stakes, and to get longer
prices for anything you may like to put on between now and to-
morrow afternoon. Come to the stables and I'll tell you. But first, is
there a place where we may command a view of the ground behind
the stables without being seen?"
"Yes, there's a ventilation grating at the back of each stall."
"Good! Then we'll watch from Hamid's stall, which will be empty.
Select your most wooden-faced and most careful boy, and send him
out behind the stable with Hamid at two o'clock to the moment. Put
the horse in a full suit of clothes—it is necessary to cover up that
white star—and tell the lad he must lead it up and down slowly for
twenty yards or so. I rather expect the red-bearded man will be
coming along between two o'clock and half-past two. You will
understand that Hamid is to be Janissary for the occasion. You must
drill your boy to appear a bit of a fool, and to overcome his stable
education sufficiently to chatter freely—so long as it is the proper
chatter. The man may ask the horse's name, or he may not. Any
way, the boy mustn't forget it is Janissary he is leading. You have an
odd fad, you must know (and the boy must know it too) in the
matter of training. This ridiculous fad is to have your colt walked up
and down for half an hour exactly at two o'clock every afternoon,
and then given a handful of malt as he comes in. The boy can talk
as freely about this as he pleases, and also about the colt's chances,
and anything else he likes; and he is to let the stranger come up,
talk to the horse, pat him—in short, to do as he pleases. Is that
plain?"
"Perfectly. You have found out something about this red-bearded
chap then?"
"Oh, yes—it's Naylor the bookmaker, as a matter of fact, with a false
beard."
"What! Naylor?"
"Yes. You see the idea, of course. Once Naylor thinks he has nobbled
the favourite he will lay it to any extent, and the odds will get longer.
Then you can make him pay for his little games."
"Well, yes, of course. Though I wouldn't put too much with Naylor in
any case. He's not a big man, and he might break and lose me the
lot. But I can get it out of the others."
"Just so. You'd better see about schooling your boy now, I think. I'll
tell you more presently."
A minute or two before two o'clock Dorrington and Telfer, mounted
on a pair of steps, were gazing through the ventilation grating of
Hamid's stall, while the colt, clothed completely, was led round. Then
Dorrington described his operations of the previous evening.
"No matter what he may think of my tale," he said, "Naylor will be
pretty sure to come. He has tried to bribe your stablemen, and has
been baffled. Every attempt to get hold of the boy in charge of
Janissary has failed, and he will be glad to clutch at any shadow of a
chance to save his money now. Once he is here, and the favourite
apparently at his mercy, the thing is done. By the way, I expect your
nephew's little present to the man you sacked was a fairly innocent
one. No doubt he merely asked the man whether Janissary was
keeping well, and was thought good enough to win, for I find he is
backing it pretty heavily. Naylor came afterwards, with much less
innocent intentions, but fortunately you were down on him in time.
Several considerations induced me to go to Naylor's room. In the
first place, I have heard rather shady tales of his doings on one or
two occasions, and he did not seem a sufficiently big man to stand
to lose a great deal over your horse. Then, when I saw him, I
observed that his figure bore a considerable resemblance to that of
the man you had described, except as regards the red beard and the
spectacles—articles easily enough assumed, and, indeed, often
enough used by the scum of the ring whose trade is welshing. And,
apart from these considerations, here, at any rate, was one man
who had an interest in keeping your colt from winning, and here was
his room waiting for me to explore. So I explored it, and the card
turned up trumps."
As he was speaking, the stable-boy, a stolid-looking youngster, was
leading Hamid back and forth on the turf before their eyes.
"There's somebody," said Dorrington suddenly, "over in that clump of
trees. Yes—our man, sure enough. I felt pretty sure of him after you
had told me that he hadn't thought it worth while to turn up this
morning. Here he comes."
Naylor, with his red beard sticking out over the collar of his big coat,
came slouching along with an awkwardly assumed air of
carelessness and absence of mind.
"Hullo!" he said suddenly, as he came abreast of the horse, turning
as though but now aware of its presence, "that's a valuable sort of
horse, ain't it, my lad?"
"Yes," said the boy, "it is. He's goin' to win the Redbury Stakes to-
morrow. It's Janissary."
"Oh! Janey Sairey, is it?" Naylor answered, with a quaint affectation
of gaping ignorance. "Janey Sairey, eh? Well, she do look a fine
'orse, what I can see of 'er. What a suit o' clo'es! An' so she's one o'
the 'orses that runs in races, is she? Well, I never! Pretty much like
other 'orses, too, to look at, ain't she? Only a bit thin in the legs."
The boy stood carelessly by the colt's side, and the man
approached. His hand came quickly from an inner pocket, and then
he passed it under Hamid's cloths, near the shoulder. "Ah, it do feel
a lovely skin, to be sure!" he said. "An' so there's goin' to be races at
Redbury to-morrow, is there? I dunno anythin' about races myself,
an'——Oo my!"
Naylor sprang back as the horse, flinging back its ears, started
suddenly, swung round, and reared. "Lor," he said, "what a vicious
brute! Jist because I stroked her! I'll be careful about touching
racehorses again." His hand passed stealthily to the pocket again,
and he hurried on his way, while the stable-boy steadied and
soothed Hamid.

"THE HORSE STARTED SUDDENLY, SWUNG ROUND, AND REARED."

Telfer and Dorrington sniggered quietly in their concealment. "He's
taken a deal of trouble, hasn't he?" Dorrington remarked. "It's a sad
case of the biter bit for Mr. Naylor, I'm afraid. That was a prick the
colt felt—hypodermic injection with the syringe I saw in the bag, no
doubt. The boy won't be such a fool as to come in again at once, will
he? If Naylor's taking a look back from anywhere, that may make
him suspicious."
"No fear. I've told him to keep out for the half-hour, and he'll do it.
Dear, dear, what an innocent person Mr. Bob Naylor is! 'Well, I never!
Pretty much like other horses!' He didn't know there were to be
races at Redbury! 'Janey Sairey,' too—it's really very funny!"
Ere the half-hour was quite over, Hamid came stumbling and
dragging into the stable yard, plainly all amiss, and collapsed on his
litter as soon as he gained his stall. There he lay, shivering and
drowsy.
"I expect he'll get over it in a day or two," Dorrington remarked. "I
don't suppose a vet. could do much for him just now, except,
perhaps, give him a drench and let him take a rest. Certainly, the
effect will last over to-morrow. That's what it is calculated for."
V
The Redbury Stakes were run at three in the afternoon, after two or
three minor events had been disposed of. The betting had
undergone considerable fluctuations during the morning, but in
general it ruled heavily against Janissary. The story had got about,
too, that Mr. Warren Telfer's colt would not start. So that when the
numbers went up, and it was seen that Janissary was starting after
all, there was much astonishment, and a good deal of uneasiness in
the ring.
"It's a pity we can't see our friend Naylor's face just now, isn't it?"
Dorrington remarked to his client, as they looked on from Mr. Telfer's
drag.
"Yes; it would be interesting," Telfer replied. "He was quite confident
last night, you say."
"Quite. I tested him by an offer of a small bet on your colt, asking
some points over the odds, and he took it at once. Indeed, I believe
he has been going about gathering up all the wagers he could about
Janissary, and the market has felt it. Your nephew has risked some
more with him, I believe, and altogether it looks as though the town
would spoil the 'bookies' badly."
As the horses came from the weighing enclosure, Janissary was seen
conspicuous among them, bright, clean, and firm, and a good many
faces lengthened at the sight. The start was not so good as it might
have been, but the favourite (the starting-price had gone to evens)
was not left, and got away well in the crowd of ten starters. There
he lay till rounding the bend, when the Telfer blue and chocolate
was seen among the foremost, and near the rails. Mr. Telfer almost
trembled as he watched through his glasses.
"Hang that Willett!" he said, almost to himself. "He's too clever
against those rails before getting clear. All right, though, all right!
He's coming!"

"CAME IN THREE LENGTHS THE WINNER."

Janissary, indeed, was showing in front, and as the horses came
along the straight it was plain that Mr. Telfer's colt was holding the
field comfortably. There were changes in the crowd; some dropped
away, some came out and attempted to challenge for the lead, but
the favourite, striding easily, was never seriously threatened, and in
the end, being a little let out, came in a three-lengths winner, never
once having been made to show his best.
"I congratulate you, Mr. Telfer," said Dorrington, "and you may
congratulate me."
"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Telfer hastily, hurrying off to lead in the
winner.
It was a bad race for the ring, and in the open parts of the course
many a humble fielder grabbed his satchel ere the shouting was
over, and made his best pace for the horizon; and more than one
pair of false whiskers, as red as Naylor's, came off suddenly while
the owner betook himself to a fresh stand. Unless a good many
outsiders sailed home before the end of the week there would be a
bad Monday for layers. But all sporting Redbury was jubilant. They
had all been "on" the local favourite for the local race, and it had
won.
VI
Mr. Bob Naylor "got a bit back," in his own phrase, on other races by
the end of the week, but all the same he saw a black settling day
ahead. He had been done—done for a certainty. He had realised this
as soon as he saw the numbers go up for the Redbury Stakes.
Janissary had not been drugged after all. That meant that another
horse had been substituted for him, and that the whole thing was an
elaborate plant. He thought he knew Janissary pretty well by sight,
too, and rather prided himself on having an eye for a horse. But
clearly it was a plant—a complete do. Telfer was in it, and so of
course was that gentlemanly stranger who had strolled along
Redbury High Street with him that night, telling that cock-and-bull
story about the afternoon walks and the handful of malt. There was
a nice schoolboy tale to take in a man who thought himself broad as
Cheapside! He cursed himself high and low. To be done, and to
know it, was a galling thing, but this would be worse. The tale would
get about. They would boast of a clever stroke like that, and that
would injure him with everybody; with honest men, because his
reputation, as it was, would bear no worsening, and with knaves like
himself, because they would laugh at him, and leave him out when
any little co-operative swindle was in contemplation. But though the