both men stood immobile. Then they ran to the tent.
Charles Darrell lay pinned to the mattress by Monk’s straining arms. Beneath the blankets his lower body jerked woodenly in convulsions. Pain had transformed his face. His mouth gaped, struggling to shout again, but instead repeat-edly gasped for breath.
The doctor pulled Monk from the restraining position which he had instinctively taken up, and allowed Darrell to roll on to his side, where he at last gave vent to agonised moaning. The spasms lessened in number and intensity as the seconds passed.
‘Stretcher! We must move him out at once,’ the doctor shouted. ‘I need a room for him, away from this row.’
Herriott, to his credit, was equal to the urgency of the sit-uation. While the stretcher-bearers were recalled to the tent, he ordered other attendants to erect a spare bed in the boardroom. In minutes, Darrell, still conscious, but moan-ing with an involuntary rhythm, was carried out of the tent and across the tracks.
As the party moved towards the corridor which led to the offices, a figure in black running costume followed and caught up with the doctor.
‘You will excuse me. My name is Mostyn-Smith. Possibly I can assist. I have a degree in medicine.’
The doctor received this information as calmly as though Mostyn-Smith were dressed in frock-coat and spats.
‘My thanks, Doctor. I shall be much in your debt if you will give an opinion.’
Darrell was borne into the boardroom where the bed was almost ready.
‘And now, Mr Herriott, and you, sir,’ the doctor said addressing Monk, ‘if you will leave us with the patient? Please do not go far away, as we may need urgent medical supplies.’
When the door had closed, Herriott turned to face a dozen reporters, eager for statements. He recovered a little of his poise.
‘Mr Darrell has been removed from the area of the tracks in order that he may rest, gentlemen. As you saw for your-selves, he was suffering from severe cramp-a sign of over-tiredness. Please do him the kindness now of leaving him to rest. A doctor is with him as an extra precaution, and if there is any comment on his condition I shall recall you.’
For almost an hour, interrupted only when Mostyn-Smith came out briefly to ask for warm, strong tea for the patient, Herriott paced the corridor, trying to devise ways of salvaging something from this setback. The Press, he knew would not be stalled for long. If Darrell were forced to with-draw from the race, and the newspapers published the infor-mation, the attendance for the second part of the week would plummet. Nobody wanted to see an exhibition by Chadwick, famous as he was; and the rest of the field could run for a year without attracting anyone to the Hall.
At length the door of the bedroom opened, and Mostyn-Smith, saying nothing, indicated with his eyes that they were ready for Herriott to enter. He understood the silence a moment later. He stood in the doorway and looked at the bed on the opposite side, where the lifeless body of Charles Darrell lay, covered by a blanket.
CHAPTER 6
By noon the runners were watched by a crowd of nearly a thousand. Boisterous and frequently insulting shouts echoed around the nine pedestrians who were circling the tracks at that stage. They were mostly too bored or weary to react. The arrival of the band, two hours before, had encouraged some horseplay from the Half-breed, who attempted to waltz with O’Flaherty against his will. But now the eleven green-jacketed ‘snake-charmers’ were repeating their medley of popular airs for the fourth time, and their performance was becoming as ritualised as the movement of the runners. Interest was revived, though, by Mostyn-Smith’s reappearance in the race, seconds after mid-day. With a wave to the lap-scorers he crossed the scratch-line and immediately resumed his characteristic four-mile-an-hour gait. Chalk, the Scythebearer, was the first to draw level with him, cutting his stride to keep pace.
‘You got called to Charlie Darrell, then.’
Mostyn-Smith had expected to be interrogated, and decided to provide the required information at once.
‘Yes. I am qualified in medicine. I did what I could to help. He was too far gone, though. Mr Darrell died about an hour ago.’
‘Died?’
‘Yes.’
‘You mean ’e ran ’imself to death?’
‘I did not say that. It is too early to say for certain what was the cause of death. The race-doctors have decided to hold a post-mortem examination. I shall be exceedingly sur-prised if overtaxing of the system proves to be the only cause.’
Williams, O’Flaherty and the veteran who shared Reid’s hut slowed to Mostyn-Smith’s pace and fell in behind. Chalk told them the essential facts.
‘And this is premature, of course,’ added Mostyn-Smith, ‘but I think it right as a doctor to warn you all-and I shall speak to the other contestants-that Mr Darrell’s last hours bore sev-eral of the symptoms of tetanus-a very vicious disease.’
‘Tetanus!’ Williams repeated. ‘That’s the ostlers’ disease, ain’t it?’
‘It has certainly been established that there is a tendency for workers in stables and farmyards to contract tetanus.’
‘But Darrell ain’t been near a farm. ’E took his breathings at ’Ackney Wick. Monk told me that.’
Mostyn-Smith was patient.
‘That may be so. However, gentlemen, if one needed to look for a building in London where tetanus might be con-tracted-’
He spread his hands, gazed upwards to the roof and looked resignedly at each troubled face.
‘You mean-this bloody ’ole! You’re right. The biggest stinking cow-shed in the country,’ Williams thundered.
‘But before you vacate the Hall, gentlemen, I think it unlikely that any of us will become infected. I have arranged for the area of the huts, which is the most fouled by animal excrement, to be washed and disinfected at once. I rather think that Mr Darrell, unfortunate man, may have become infected when he took off his boots on Monday night to run barefoot on blistered feet. It is through an open wound that the disease enters the body. I strongly advise you to retain your footwear at every stage of the race. If you have cuts or abrasions, have them covered. The doctors will help.’
‘I’m for quitting,’ Chalk said. ‘Tetanus. That’s something doctors can’t cure.’
‘That is perfectly true,’ Mostyn-Smith admitted. ‘But we know enough about it to take reasonable precautions. If I thought there was a real danger, I should have retired from this contest already. Of course, the decision is your own. Bear in mind that we shall not be certain until after the post-mortem examination. It may be that he died from other causes.’
He actually raised his pace a fraction to put a decent dis-tance between them and him. They conferred for several minutes as they walked. Apparently a group decision was to be made. Then O’Flaherty detached himself and approached Mostyn-Smith again.
‘You say we’re not likely to catch it if we keep our feet clean?’
‘Bearing in mind that you aren’t likely to suffer skin dam-age on any other part of your person, yes. Whether Mr Darrell died from tetanus or some other cause, it is still good advice. That is why I arranged for our hut to be scrubbed, Mr O’Flaherty.’
The Irishman accepted the point in silence.
‘And you’re going on with this tramp yourself?’
‘I fully intend to,’ Mostyn-Smith affirmed. ‘I shall make up the time that I lost this morning by increasing my stride-length.’
A little devilment made him add, ‘If you gentlemen with-draw, I should be among the leaders by Friday.’
This reminder that Darrell’s death had increased the chances of prize money tipped the scales in the
