The Terrible Privacy Of Maxwell Sim

‘Well,’ he said, ‘that sounds an interesting proposition. What do you say, Harold – shall we pool our resources and give it a try?’

I knew that they had been discussing, among other things, the prospects of a particular horse running in the 3.30 at Newmarket that Saturday, so I assumed at first that Roger was suggesting a bet. But it turned out that it was rather more complicated than that.

‘Mr Lambert has already placed his bet,’ he explained, holding up a crumpled piece of paper with a bookmaker’s scrawl upon it. ‘This is the betting slip, and what he is proposing, is that he sells us the right to buy it from him in the future. What he wants to sell us, in effect, is an option on the bet.’

‘An option?’

‘Yes. You see, he’s really being very decent about it. He’s placed five pounds on a horse called Red Runner to win, at odds of 6-1. Now you and I can’t afford that kind of stake, obviously. But what he’s suggesting is that, if we pay him one pound now, that gives us the right to buy the betting slip from him for twenty pounds – after the race has been run.’

‘Twenty pounds? But we don’t have twenty pounds.’

‘Well, we’ll just have to borrow it. You see, at that point, we can’t lose. We only have to buy the slip off him if the horse has won – by which time, it will be worth thirty pounds. So even if we buy it for twenty, plus the original pound we’ve paid for the option, then we’ve made nine pounds profit. And the only thing we’re risking is our original one pound.’

‘I still don’t get it. Why don’t we just place a bet ourselves?’

‘Because this way we stand to make more money. If we just bet one pound at 6-1, we’d only make five pounds profit. This way we make almost twice as much.’

‘It’s what we call leverage,’ Mr Lambert explained.

My head was still swimming. ‘But surely this means you will be out of pocket yourself?’

Mr Lambert smiled. ‘You leave me to worry about that.’

‘Believe me,’ said Roger, ‘he wouldn’t be doing it if he stood to lose any money on the deal. I’m sure he’s thought it through.’

‘Precisely,’ said Crispin. ‘The fact is that I already have another each-way bet on this race, with a different bookmaker. So really, you understand, I have nothing to lose by this arrangement, and might even gain by it. In fact, everybody gains by it.’

‘So come on, Harold – what do you say? We stand to make ninepounds. That would make a good start to our European fund.’

‘True.’

‘Well then, stump up the money, there’s a good chap.’

I wasn’t too happy about being the sole contributor – this had not, as I understood it, been part of the arrangement, but it seemed that Roger only had five shillings with him at the time. I handed Mr Lambert a crisp green one pound note – not by any means an inconsiderable sum, for me, in those days. In return, he scribbled some words on a sheet of paper torn from his pocket book, signed the document, and passed it over to my friend.

‘There,’ he said. ‘Now it’s all strictly legal. Let’s settle up on Monday morning, and hope for a satisfactory outcome all round.’

With that he drained his glass and took his leave, waving a cheery goodbye from the door of the pub as he did so.

Roger smiled and clapped me on the back. ‘Well, today was our lucky day,’ he said. ‘Another round?’

‘I’m not sure about this,’ I said, frowning into the remains of my beer. ‘There has to be a catch. And anyway, nine pounds isn’t going to get us to Naples and back.’

‘True,’ said Roger, ‘very true. But we’ve made a good start. And besides, I’ve thought of something else. I’ll go up and see my sister at the weekend.’

‘How will that help?’ I asked.

‘She’s filthy rich, that’s how. Married the boss of a big chemical engineering firm a couple of years ago. I shall pop up there on Saturday afternoon, play the part of the devoted younger brother to the hilt, stay the night, and ask her for a little loan in the morning.’

‘A loan?’

‘Or an advance – that’s how I shall put it. An advance on the fabulous book I shall write about the archaeological sites of Northern and Southern Europe. I shall invite her to invest in the brilliance of her brother. How does that sound? These people like to talk of investments.’

Roger’s enthusiasm was infectious sometimes, there was no denying that. ‘It sounds just fine,’ I said, and by way of celebration he stood me a whisky chaser with my next pint of beer.

When I saw Roger at Hill’s Restaurant on Monday lunchtime, he brought good news and bad. Red Runner had come in first, which meant that we could exercise our option on Crispin’s betting slip, and collect the winnings – thirty pounds on his five-pound stake, less the twenty pounds we owed him, and the one pound for the option: all of which left us nine pounds in profit. Very satisfactory. Less satisfactory, on the other hand, was the outcome of Roger’s approaches to his sister.

‘Let this be a warning to you, Harold,’ he said gravely, ‘that women are not to be trusted, or relied upon. In fact, one should not even take the slightest notice of the selfish, small-minded creatures. Harriet showed not the least interest in our expedition, or in the book which I told her might come out of it. Her horizons are simply too … limited to take in the importance of what we’re proposing to do. She focuses entirely on her own tiny, trivial, domestic concerns.’

‘Such as?’