Bruce Alexander - The Price of Murder

“Well,” said I, recalling Clarissa’s instructions, “those are certainly favorable odds.”

“They are indeed.”

By the time we found our way to the tap-room, we could only hope that Mr. Deuteronomy would still be present, for we two together had caught bettor’s fever. Mr. Patley spun great fantasies of just what he might do if he were to put all his money on Pegasus or perhaps kept a modest hedge bet or two upon the favorites, Charade and Red Devil. In any case, any bet at 33 to 1 would bring him wealth he had never hoped for in a lump sun. The difficulty was, said he, that deep down, he was a practical man, and even to dream of such wealth made him a bit uneasy. Still, said he, what might he do with a large sum? buy land? build a house? perhaps get married? It was all too much for a man of modest ambitions such as himself even to consider. (All of which was nonsense, of course. He was a betting man and a dreamer.)

All this went on as I washed myself, brushed the dust from my clothes, and generally prepared myself for dinner below. For myself, my case of bettor’s fever, though not so virulent as Patley’s, came upon me quietly and in the form of a question: To talk of hedging bets was one thing, but to do that was to bet against Mr. Deuteronomy, and, knowing him as well as I did, how could I then do such a thing? When I was a mere boy in the service of Sir John, I used to be certain that, as I grew a bit older, matters would become more certain and less complicated. Yet I have found that the truth of it is just the opposite.

In any case, as I have said, what with Mr. Patley’s fantasies of great wealth and the problems it would bring, and my own moral difficulties considering friendship along with the thrill of wagering all or none, we two were late enough that I feared we might have missed Deuteronomy altogether. But no, he was there at a table within sight of the door, waving us over, bidding us to our places.

“We’re late,” said I as I sat down.

“Think nothin’ of it,” said he. “Until a short time past there was a great long line awaiting tables. I’ve sat just long enough for a glass of wine.”

“We was stunned to see the odds posted on Pegasus,” said Mr. Patley.

“What does that mean-thirty-three to one?” I asked.

“What that means,” said Mr. Deuteronomy, “is that the gamblers don’t think we got a chance in hell to win. And that suits me just fine.”

“But aren’t you insulted?”

“Not a bit. How could they think anything else? Pegasus has got no racing history, and I’ve taken care to exercise him too early or too late for them to get much of a look at him. I’m still confident.”

“You are. . truly?” I asked in a manner most naive.

“Oh yes. I spend a good part of the day at the rail looking over the rest of the field. I ain’t impressed. But I’ll tell you how confident I am,” said he, lowering his voice. “I’ve got a hundred pounds with me that I intend to bet on Pegasus on race day if I can just drive the odds up a little higher.”

“Maybe the Duke of Queensberry will have something to say about that,” said Mr. Patley. “He knows his horses-or so they say. He might risk a few thousand on Pegasus. God knows he could afford it.”

“He owns Charade. He wouldn’t bet against his own. But enough of this, eh? I, for one, am quite starvin’. The beef here is good, and the mutton ain’t bad, neither.”

We ordered, we ate, we drank, and, at last, I did remember why it was we had gathered at Mr. Deuteronomy’s invitation. The tap-room had by then emptied out considerably. There were but three or four other tables at which diners and drinkers sat, though the bar was yet well-filled and noisy. But as our purpose there came to me, I thought it important enough to interrupt the discussion of horses and horse-racing between the jockey and the constable, which never seemed to end, and to ask of him a question.

“Mr. Deuteronomy, sir, you said that you had something to tell. What might that be?”

“Ah yes, so I did,” said he. “It may not be specially significant, but I hear tell that it’s the details that people sometimes pass over that turn out to be most important.”

“That’s the way it is more often than not,” said Constable Patley, pretending to have an authority he did not really possess.

“Just as I thought. Well, it was today it came to me whilst Bennett and me were visiting Pegasus in the stable. My sister told me something-actually two things that I thought might help you find him-and through him, her. She gave a name to Maggie’s father, and I believe it was Stephen. Now, as I said, she described him as tall and fair. I b’lieve she said, he had straw-colored hair. Did I tell you that?”

“I’m not sure,” said I, quite honestly.

“Well, that’s a description of a sort, ain’t it? And there’s this, too. She made some remark about waking up beside him with hay in her hair. Now that, to me, says that she was sleeping in a hayloft. Where do they have haylofts?”

“Well, all over-in farms for one.”

“Where else?”

“In stables,” said I, “right here in town. So if we find a young fellow, tall and fair, named Stephen, working in a stable here, then we’re also likely to find her?”

“That’s as I see it,” said Mr. Deuteronomy.

“Well, I be damned,” said Constable Patley.

When we ended, we two thanked Mr. Deuteronomy most effusively and respectfully as our host settled the bill with the serving woman. We began drifting away. But our host summoned me back by name. Mr. Patley, eager to get himself to the jakes, hurried on.

“What will you, sir?” said I, returning.

“A couple of matters,” said he, “that I’d like to discuss with you. The first is none of my affair. I’m simply Lord Lamford’s errand boy in this. Last thing he said to me was he didn’t want me talking to you anymore. You can see by the way we spent the last hour or so, just how much I respect that.”

“But why?” said I. “Why should he object to me?”

“I be damned if I know-except somehow or other he’s gotten wind that you work for the Blind Beak. He said something about you having no right to nose about where you’re not wanted for Sir John. So I was going to ask you not to come to Pegasus’s evening workout. You’re welcome to come to the one in the morning. He never gets up till noon, anyways. If his lordship ain’t around, we can talk. Suit you?”

I sighed. “Suits me well enough.”

“Well and good. Now, the second matter is from me and me alone, and it concerns me and me alone, and I’d like it to be confidential between us two. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“I’d like you to place that hundred-pound bet for me, the one I mentioned I was going to put down on Pegasus, put it in your name and not mine.”

“Would I be doing anything illegal if I did?”

“No, I would never ask you to do anything like that. They get nervous when they see a jockey wearing racing colors placing a bet on any horse.”

“I can understand that.”

“And I want you to wait until just before the race, because there’s just a chance that the odds may be even more favorable then. We’ll see. I’ll get the money to you on race day. But that’s the day after tomorrow, ain’t it?”

Then did we part with a clap and shake of the hands.

Next morning, Mr. Patley and I were up and out very early. In point of fact, we arrived only minutes after Deuteronomy, Bennett, and Pegasus. There was but a suggestion of gray dawn in the east as we took our places at the rail end. Yet it grew lighter and lighter most swiftly, and by the time Pegasus was saddled and the jockey was atop the horse, it was not long till sunrise. All this was done in near-complete silence. There seems to be something in the early morning air that enforces quiet. Mr. Deuteronomy made no effort whatever to attempt to communicate with me.