Edgar Wallace

“ It was Black.
“Run it off,” said Black, in a hoarse whisper. “It was a fluke that horse got up. Your jockey was caught napping. Run it off.”
Sir Isaac hesitated. “I shall get half the bets and half the stakes,” he said.
“Have the lot,” said Black. “Go along, there is nothing to be afraid of. I know this game; run it off. There’s nothing to prevent you winning.”
Sir Isaac hesitated, then walked slowly to the unsaddling enclosure. The steaming horses were being divested of their saddles.
Gresham was there, looking cool and cheerful. He caught the baronet’s eye. ”

“ There were rich men and comparatively poor men; little tradesmen who found this the most delightful of their holidays; members of Parliament who had snatched a day from the dreariness of the Parliamentary debates; sharpers on the look-out for possible victims; these latter quiet, unobtrusive men whose eyes were constantly on the move for a likely subject. There was a sprinkling of journalists, cheery and sceptical, young men and old men, farmers in their gaiters—all drawn together in one great brotherhood by a love of the sport of kings. ”

“ There were many horses in the race who were also sprinters, and they would make the pace a terrifically fast one. If stamina was a weak point, it would betray her.
The previous day, on the opening of the racing season, his stable had run a horse in a selling plate, and it was encouraging that this animal, though carrying top weight, beat his field easily. It was this fact that had brought Nemesis to the position of short-priced favourite.
Gresham himself had very little money upon her; he did not bet very heavily, though he was credited with making and losing fabulous sums each year. ”

“ He didn’t want to run it off?”
“Who?” asked Sir Isaac. “Gresham?”
“Yes; did he?” asked Black.
“No, he wasn’t very keen. He said it wasn’t fair to the horses.”
Black laughed. “Rubbish!” he said scornfully. “Do you imagine a man like that cares whether his horse is hard raced or whether it isn’t? No! He saw the race as well as I did. He saw that your fool of a jockey had it won and was caught napping. Of course he didn’t want to risk a run-off. I tell you that Timbolino will win easily.” ”

“ You see, a trainer may not be satisfied his horse is top-hole. He sends him out to have a feeler, so to speak, at the opposition. The fittest horse will probably win this race. The trainer who is running against him with no hope of success will discover how near to fitness his own beast is!”
“I want to find Timbolino,” she said, looking at her card. “That’s Sir Isaac’s, isn’t it?” ”

“ When the tapes went up, however, Nemesis half-turned and lost a couple of lengths.
“I’ll back Timbolino,” yelled somebody from the ring, and a quick staccato voice cried, “I’ll take three to one.”
A chorus of acceptances met the offer.
Sir Isaac was watching the race from the public stand. Black was at his side.
“What did I tell you?” asked the latter exultantly. “The money is in your pocket, Ikey, my boy. Look, three lengths in front. You’ll win at a walk.”
The boy on Nemesis had her well balanced. He did not drive her out. He seemed content to wait those three lengths in the rear. ”

“ Sir Isaac awaited the conclusion of the run-off in better spirits. It added to his assurance that the ring took a similar view to that which Black held. They were asking for odds about Timbolino. You might have got two to one against Nemesis.
But only for a little while. Gresham had gone into the tea-room with the girl, and was standing at the narrow entrance of the county stand, when the cry, “Two to one Nemesis!” caught his ear.
“They’re not laying against my horse!” he exclaimed in astonishment. He beckoned a man who was passing. “Are they laying against Nemesis?” he asked. The man nodded. ”

“ Timbolino went out, and Nemesis was a shade odds on.
Then it was that money came in for Sir Isaac’s horse.
Black did not bet to any extent, but he saw a chance of making easy money. The man honestly believed all he had said to Sir Isaac. He was confident in his mind that the jockey had ridden a “jolly race.” He had sufficient credit amongst the best men in the ring to invest fairly heavily.
Again the market experienced an extraordinary change. Timbolino was favourite again. Nemesis went out—first six to four, then two to one, then five to two. ”

“ Both horses were running smoothly. At the five-furlong post the lad on Nemesis let the filly out just a little. Without any apparent effort she improved her position. The jockey knew now exactly what were his resources and he was content to wait behind. The rest of the race needs very little description. It was a procession until they had reached the distance. Then the boy on Timbolino looked round.
“He’s beaten,” said Gresham, half to himself. He knew that some jockeys looked round when they felt their mount failing under them. ”

“ Get all that nonsense out of your head and think sensibly. You will make all you’ve lost and much more. You’ve got to marry—and quick, and then she’s got to inherit my lord’s money, almost as quickly. ”