‘Well?’
‘Mr Hamilton Fido.’
Colbeck shook his hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Radley,’ he said. ‘That information is very valuable. You’ve rendered us a great service in coming forward like this.’
‘You won’t mention anything to Mr Fielding, will you?’
‘I’ve no need to speak to him.’
Radley gasped. ‘I’m so relieved, Inspector. I’ve been torturing myself about whether or not I should come. It preyed on my mind, you see. That hatbox might have been the one taken from the hotel.’
‘I’m fairly certain that it was,’ said Colbeck.
‘Then I’m glad I came.’ He rose to his feet and bit his lip as he wrestled with his conscience. ‘There is something else I could tell you, Inspector, though I’m not sure that I should. I hope you don’t think I make a habit of this. I’m known for my discretion.’
‘Anything you can tell us will be very welcome, sir.’
‘The thing is…’ Radley bit his lip again before plunging in. ‘The thing is that the young lady who accompanied Mr Fido, and whom we assumed was Mrs Fido, had been to the Wyvern Hotel once before.’
‘But not with the same gentleman, I take it.’
‘No, sir.’
‘Who was her husband on that occasion?’
‘I’d hate you to think that our hotel caters for such irregular alliances,’ said Radley with a simpering smile. ‘Most of our guests are highly respectable. We attract only the cream of society. They value the facilities we can offer.’ He leant forward. ‘It was pure chance that I recognised this particular young lady.’
‘With whom was she staying?’ prompted Colbeck.
‘Lord Hendry.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Standing in front of the fireplace, Lord George Hendry gazed at the painting with gathering excitement as if seeing it for the first time. It had been an expensive commission but he felt that the money had been well spent on a superb example of equine portraiture. Odysseus looked astonishingly lifelike, ready to leap off the canvas and parade in style around the paddock. The chestnut colt had the unmistakable look of a born winner. Its owner was so enraptured that he did not hear his wife hobble into the library on a walking stick. Lady Caroline Hendry gave a pained smile.
‘I still think that you’re making a mistake,’ she remarked.
He swung round. ‘What’s that?’
‘You’re counting your chickens before they’re hatched, George.’
‘I’m admiring a Derby winner,’ he said proudly, ‘that’s all.’
‘But the horse has not yet won the race.’
‘I have complete faith in Odysseus.’
‘I’m sure that every other owner has complete faith in his horse as well,’ she said, ‘but none of them would dare to celebrate a triumph that had never actually taken place.’
‘You know nothing about racing, Caroline.’
‘I know that the favourite does not always win.’
‘This one will.’
‘How can you be so definite?’
‘Because of what happened,’ he said, moving across to help her onto a settee. ‘Sit down a moment, my dear. I can see it’s not one of your better days.’ He sat beside her. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you this in case it upset you but I think you should perhaps know the truth. There’s been an incident near the stables.’
‘What kind of incident?’
‘Someone tried to disable Odysseus.’
‘George!’ she exclaimed in horror.
‘The attempt was foiled,’ he assured her, ‘so don’t be alarmed. I reported the incident to the police and uniformed officers will protect the horse when we move him to Epsom. At the moment, he’s being closely guarded at the stables.’
‘I hadn’t realised that Odysseus was in any danger.’
‘It’s one of the penalties of being a favourite, Caroline. And it’s clear proof,’ he went on, indicating the painting, ‘that this year’s Derby winner is hanging on the wall. If Odysseus were not feared, nobody would try to put him out of the race.’
‘Supposing that they try again?’ she asked.
‘We’ll be ready for them.’
‘Do you have any idea who was behind the incident?’
‘The choice has to be between Hamilton Fido and Brian Dowd,’ he said. ‘Each owns another fancied horse. Their only hope of success is to have Odysseus eliminated in some way.’
‘Did you give those names to the police?’
‘Of course I did. My own feeling is that Dowd is the snake in the grass. He stands to gain most if Odysseus fails to run. Limerick Lad is the second favourite. I’ve dealt with Brian Dowd before,’ he said with asperity. ‘I wouldn’t trust that crafty Irishman for a second.’
‘What was the other name you mentioned?’
‘Hamilton Fido.’
‘I thought it sounded familiar. You’ve spoken of him before. Didn’t you tell me that one of his horses was a Derby winner?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Galliard won by two lengths from Highland Chief. My own horse that year came in third so I have a score to settle with Fido. He’s putting a filly in the race, Merry Legs, and she’ll never test Odysseus or even put Limerick Lad under any real pressure. Fido must know in his heart that he can never win. No,’ he decided, ‘on balance, the man behind the attack on us simply has to be Dowd. If my horse does not run, his will take the honours. He suborned some villain to snuff out my chances of winning the Derby.’
‘Then why don’t the police arrest him?’
‘They say that they need clear evidence.’
‘Racing seems such a hazardous world,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Why does it attract so many undesirable characters?’
He chortled. ‘Since when have I been undesirable?’
‘I was not referring to you, George. I was thinking of all the problems associated with the sport. It’s mired in scandal.’
‘Great efforts are being made to clean up racing,’ he said with easy pomposity. ‘I was called upon to offer my advice as how it might happen. One obvious way, of course, is to exclude members of the lower orders from entering horses in major races – social inferiors like Fido and Dowd, for instance. They don’t belong, Caroline.’
‘I’m so glad that I don’t have to rub shoulders with people like that. My charity work may not be as exhilarating as watching a horse race but I do have the pleasure of working with kindred spirits.’
‘So do I – most of the time.’
‘There won’t be many archdeacons at the Derby.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong, my dear,’ he said. ‘Men of the cloth are as addicted to the event as anyone else. We’ll have prelates galore on Derby Day and there’ll be more than one bishop placing a shrewd bet on the race. If you don’t believe me, come and see for yourself.’
‘No, thank you, George – you know how much I hate crowds.’
‘You ought to be there for Odysseus’s crowning moment.’
‘Tell me about it after the race,’ she said.
‘There’s still time for you to profit from it, Caroline. I was not joking when I said that you could put a wager on my horse. It’s a sure passport to making money.’
‘But I don’t want to make money,’ she said firmly, ‘especially not in that way. I’ve always regarded gambling as rather vulgar. It’s the resort of those who want something for nothing.’
‘It’s a reward for risk,’ he explained. ‘If people are bold enough to venture a tidy sum on a horse, they have the right to enjoy the winnings. What’s vulgar about that?’
‘It’s something I could never lower myself to, George.’
‘Try – just this once.’
‘No, I’m sorry. I can’t.’
‘Wouldn’t you even consider giving me a loan so that I can place a bet on your behalf?’ She sat up with righteous indignation and he retreated quickly. ‘No, no, that was a foolish suggestion. I take it back. Your money is your own and you must be the sole arbiter of how and when it is spent.’