“Let her sleep it off.”
Yates gave a kind of mock salute and marched out with his prisoner. I must say that I was impressed.
“All right,” said Malachi Simmons to us. “I’m little pleased to have those from other jurisdictions coming round and waving their warrants and what-not at me. In short, I don’t like it. Me and your Sir John have clashed more than once on just such matters. Come back in the morning no later than seven, pay her fine, and you can have your prisoner. That satisfy you?”
We fair danced out the door, Mr. Patley and I. Though we had been careful not to parade our feelings of triumph before the magistrate (for he was a tetchy old bird), once out of earshot, we surrendered completely to them. We giggled and capered our way downhill. Mr. Patley, who had a talent for mimicry, did a fair imitation of the magistrate’s nasal whining and managed to attract a bit of attention from the crowd.
“Hi, Jeremy,” said he, “what say we wet our whistles at the next tavern we come to? I could sure do with an ale. Now that we got our prisoner taken care of till morning, I’m for a bit of a celebration. What say you to that?”
I was, indeed, eager to join him, but somehow I was certain that this was not the time for me to relax my efforts. As it was, I felt a bit guilty about arranging things so that I might be present for the big race the next day. There were too many loose ends, matters still to be arranged before our departure, and now was the time to attend to them.
“No, Mr. Patley,” said I to him, “I’ve a few things to do yet. But go and have an ale on me, and I’ll join you soon.”
“But not too soon.”
And so, as good as his word, he left me at the next inn we came to, the Green Man (one of a hundred such scattered round rural England). I promised to come by for him there in an hour, or not too much more. Then did I proceed to the track where I began my search for Mr. Deuteronomy.
I found him without too much difficulty, exactly where I supposed he might be: poised over the rail, the spy-glass to his eye, evaluating the horses upon the track. There were not as many of them as before, and all of them seemed to be genuine entries. Mr. Bennett was beside him, making notes as Mr. Deuteronomy called off orders to him.
“The black is good. Find out his name, who’s riding him, and where he stands in the betting. He ain’t Charade, but he looks good. Oh, and the big red, too. Get the same information on him, too.” Bennett then departed.
Then, at last, did Deuteronomy take down the spy-glass. ’Twas then that he saw me there, awaiting his attention.
“Jeremy,” said he, “just the man I’ve been searching for.”
“And I’ve news for you,” said I.
I told him hurriedly of the successful search for his sister, of her near blameless confession, and of her present whereabouts.
“You can visit her there right up to seven in the morning.”
“I think I’ll decline that pleasure,” said he. “I get sick enough as it is before a race. No need to go stirring up more trouble. But now, let me tell you where we are on the matter of the wager.”
He then explained that the odds on Pegasus had gone down rather than up, that it now stood at 30 to 1. “Still favorable,” he said, “still marvelous, but this is as long as I care to wait. So here, Jeremy. I’d like you to put this on Pegasus to win.”
And so saying, he brought forth from his coat an envelope fat with bank notes and handed it to me.
“It’s a hundred, no more nor less. And for my own reasons, I’d still like you to place the bet for me.”
I took the envelope from him and agreed to do as he directed.
“There may be a bit of difficulty getting your winnings to you right after the race, though,” said I. “I may even have to take it with me to London. That is, assuming there are winnings. We’ll have to run for the mail coach as soon as ever we can. Your sister will be with us, you know.”
“I know. Take it with you to London. And don’t worry about whether or not there’ll be winnings. That’s my responsibility, as you’ll see.”
I left him then with a firm clasp of the hands and a whispered “Good luck to you then.”
Though tempted, I avoided those strolling turf accountants with their fast-changing slates and their line of chatter, for Mr. Patley had warned me that all too often they stroll out of sight when it came time to pay off winners. Rather, did I go to the turf-accountant’s stall where first I saw the odds against Pegasus posted. There I placed two separate wagers, both of them in my name: one for a hundred pounds, and another, much smaller one, for five pounds, eleven shillings, both at the posted odds of thirty to one. The accountant looked at me queerly when I made it clear that both bets were to be put upon Pegasus; then did he call me an optimist. Nevertheless, he wrote me out two chits with all the relevant matter upon them. I tucked them away, glad to be relieved of the awful responsibility put upon me by carrying about a great sum of money belonging to another. I remember that I mused on my way to the post house that I had given no thought whatever to hedging my own bet, nor would Clarissa have had me do so. Thanks to her, and thanks, as well, to Mr. Deuteronomy, I had become less cautious and more willing to take chances-in short, a proper betting man.
As it happened, I was stopping by at the post to present my letter of preference for places on the first post coach following the conclusion of tomorrow’s race. In effect, I had, with the letter of preference, reserved three places (one each for me, for Patley, and for Alice Plummer) on the five-o’clock post coach to London. This was, as I discovered, one of the prerogatives of traveling on official business for the Bow Street Court. Three coach passengers could even be thrown off to make room for us. This, however, was unlikely to be necessary, according to him I talked to at the Newmarket post house.
Then, at last, a return to the Green Man, where I had agreed to meet Mr. Patley. I’d no idea of the time, though surely I had made the one-hour time limit I had set for myself. I would have been most uneasy if he had wandered away. But no, there he was, sitting at the bar, flirting with the barmaid, holding forth as one might at an ale house in the Strand. He spied me entering the place and threw open his arms in welcome.
“Jeremy, old friend,” said he, “come sit beside me and have an ale with me. I’ve had three.”
Three, was it? Perhaps I’d been gone considerably longer than an hour.
“I’ll gladly have an ale, Mr. Patley. But tell me, are you not getting a bit hungry?”
“Well, now that you mention it. .”
As if by magic, an ale in a pewter tankard appeared before me. I took a deep draught and understood at once how Patley might have consumed three such in the space of an hour. It was a bit bitter, but properly so, and not the sort to put a pucker upon your face. In short, I liked it.
He turned to the barmaid and asked about dinner.
“Well,” said she, “it’s not yet six, and there ain’t many eat quite so early, but I always thought it best to eat when you’re hungry.” She must have thought that a great joke, for she laughed long and loud at it. Mr. Patley joined in.
In any case, we ordered alike, a beef chop apiece, and we did eat at the bar, because, as Patley explained to the barmaid, “We wouldn’t want to get too far away from that good ale.” This, too, was thought to be quite funny.
I would not wish to present myself as above all this foolery, reader, for it was not long till I was acting near as silly as Mr. Patley. Ah well, I assured myself, this was to be something of a celebration, was it not?
Oh, indeed it was to be just that, yet both Patley and I felt that there were other things at stake. Oddly enough, it was my companion who brought that home to me when, without overture or opening, he peered at me and said, “Well, did you find him?”