pedestrians’ decision to continue. After another brief consultation the group broke into a run, and trotted away in step into a faster lap to celebrate their resolve. They raised dust, defined in pale beams of sunlight that had penetrated the grimy vaulting.
Erskine Chadwick sat at lunch in his tent, watched by Harvey. The meal was cold, but well prepared, and he con-sumed it noisily. The morning’s tragedy had not touched him. Darrell had scarcely existed, except as a yardstick. The poor fellow was dead, so Herriott would probably promote some other worthy trudger to the inner track and the race would continue. The tetanus scare had not bothered Chadwick either. That eccentric little medico from the outer path had made a point of mentioning the risk. But after army service the only risks that troubled Chadwick arose on the Stock Market.
The full blare of the band invaded the tent for an instant as the flap was drawn open. Walter Jacobson came in.
‘Forgive this intrusion. I should like to speak with you about the race, and I don’t wish to delay you. The matter is of some importance.’
‘Please sit down, then. Our furniture is sparse, but if you don’t object to sitting on the bed…?’
Jacobson, ill at ease, fluttered his hand to decline the offer.
‘To come to the point, you will have heard of Mr Darrell’s tragic passing, and I think you will understand that this has thrown the whole future of the contest into uncertainty. We-that is, the management-would wish to continue with the race, providing that the participants feel able to go on.’
Chadwick felt totally able, but feigned a moment’s decent hesitation.
‘Of course,’ he ventured, ‘one feels reluctant in these unhappy circumstances…’
‘Quite, quite. Do continue your meal, won’t you?’
‘However, as a military man,’ Chadwick added with an air of fortitude, ‘I learned to accept such things philosophically. And as an athlete I have trained my body to persevere, even when the mind protests. I think that poor Darrell would wish us to continue the race.’
‘I am so glad that you feel this way. I hope that your fel-low-competitors are equally resolute.’ Jacobson produced a large handkerchief and dusted the back of his neck. ‘What we now have to settle is how we rearrange the race.’
Chadwick had prepared for this.
‘Yes. There was a good deal of interest in the duel between Darrell and me.’
‘We have a problem,’ Jacobson continued, ‘in that no sin-gle competitor seems worthy of consideration as your antagonist.’
He paused, allowing Chadwick to savour the flattery.
‘If, for example, I nominated Williams, who holds second place by a small margin, he might be overtaken tomorrow by O’Flaherty, or even Chalk.’
Suspicion dawned on Chadwick’s face.
‘So I have come to suggest,’ Jacobson said, speaking more quickly, ‘that instead of making the main contest a two-man race, we alter the conditions a little so that you are challenged by all-comers-which was in real terms always the case.’
‘But I do not exactly follow-’
‘In other words, we dispense with one of the tracks and all competitors run on the outer path, which is wider than the other.’
Having delivered his dart, Jacobson paused to study its effect.
Chadwick picked up a knife from the plate and held it poised on his fingers, pointing at Jacobson.
‘You are seriously suggesting,’ he said in a voice thick with menace, ‘that I appear on a track with the drunks and half-wits who are out there at the moment. Is that it, Mr Jacobson?’
‘Well-known pedestrians, many of them,’ Jacobson stam-mered.
‘Clowns or criminals, every one! Perhaps you aren’t aware, sir, that I hold the Queen’s Commission. I am not unused to dealing with the lower levels of society. I wouldn’t allow one of that rabble to clean my blasted boots!’ With an air of finality he snatched an orange that Harvey was holding and bisected it savagely.
Jacobson selected his next words with care.
‘So I must now inform Mr Herriott that you are retiring from the contest?’
‘That is not what I said.’
‘But the effect of what you said is the same, Mr Chadwick. First, you have no rival left. Second, you refuse to appear with the antagonists who are nominated. The conclusion is obvious.’
Chadwick was beginning to see he had no choice, but he continued to resist.
‘Nominate Williams and I shall permit him to share my path.’
Jacobson played his ace.
‘I doubt that Williams or any of his fellows would risk stepping on the inner track. The doctors’ suspicion is that Mr Darrell died of tetanus, contracted when he ran barefoot on that very path. The ground may be contaminated.’
Harvey had removed Chadwick’s boots and socks for air-ing purposes. The naked feet, resting squarely on the stone floor, were abruptly tilted so that only the heels remained in contact.
‘If I were to accept your proposal, and move to the outer path, I should expect some form of compensation. The sac-rifice, you see, would be all on my side. The benefit to the promotion and its public appeal would be immeasurable.’
This was capitulation. Jacobson was delighted.
‘I think you may be confident that Mr Herriott will make some recognition of this sporting gesture. Shall I suggest fifty?’
Chadwick reached for his socks.
‘Suggest a hundred and I’ll settle for that.’
Jacobson nodded assent and turned to leave.
‘One more thing,’ said Chadwick. ‘You will arrange for this floor to be disinfected?’
‘At once.’
Jacobson hurried away to secure Herriott’s agreement. It was quickly given, and when Chadwick rejoined the race at 12.30 p.m. he started on the outer circuit behind Billy Reid, whose brother had bullied him into resuming. On the other side of the track O’Flaherty and his friends were already devising tactics to ensure that Chadwick earned every penny of his hundred pounds.
Later in the afternoon Sol Herriott was preparing a statement for the newspapers about the altered race- arrangements. He sat near the starting area on a mahogany chair taken from the boardroom. The grey tip of his cigar grew, fell and disintegrated on his pin-stripes. Officials prat-tling behind him did not break his concentration; the urgency of the task preoccupied him. If Wednesday morn-ing’s Press suggested that the promotion might collapse, the effect could be disastrous. He was composing a piece to present Chadwick’s move to the second track as a sensation. The whole venture would be given an impetus.
In general, he had been pleased by the morning editions, which appeared too late to carry the news of Darrell. The careers of the main entrants were fully described, and much was made of the different backgrounds of Chadwick and Darrell. The remainder of the field had been referred to as ‘the huddled-up division’-a slighting reference to their accommodation-but otherwise the comments were flip-pant, but uncritical. Herriott had liked ‘the Boss of the Hippodrome’, and ‘that staunch sportsman’. If tragedy had not intervened, he would have enjoyed this day.
One of the competitors, Reid, had twice tottered off course during the last hour, and fresh sawdust had been put down to mark the inner edge of the track. The rest, though, were in good shape. All of them now chose to walk, and the pace varied little from man to man. Chadwick undoubtedly showed the best form, but two knots of competitors contrived to impede him whenever he overtook. Chalk’s antics in cutting across the Captain’s path were hugely enjoyed, and Williams too delighted the crowd by dogging Chadwick’s steps for a full lap, aping the upthrust chin.
This mood of mirth was cut short by the entrance of a woman in dark clothes, heavily veiled and accompanied by an elderly man. She crossed the track to speak to Herriott. After a word to Jacobson, who took over the Press release, Herriott led them to his office.
