Detective and mystery stories, English; Private investigators -- Fiction
"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!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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