their brother had done, but there was one very interesting discovery — of the miniature cigar ‘blow-pipes’ and supplies of muscular-depressant drug, Curol. It was Mark who broke down and confessed what they had planned for the Derby.
That same day, the stewards of the Jockey Club were informed, in confidence that special precautions were taken in case someone else had the same idea. But not until long after the Derby was run would the plot become public knowledge; not until the trials of the three Spratt brothers.
The only policeman to feel any disappointment that day was P.O. Donaldson, for the thieves and pick-pockets were almost non-existent, and he could not understand it. The nest day, Saturday, the same, and he told himself that they would be busy again on Monday.
On the Monday, he was drawn to Number 1 Court, where Barnaby Rudge was playing the Australian Cyril Wallers, the Number Nine seed. It was an overcast day with the threat of rain, the ‘long, hot summer’ was nearly over. Barnaby heard Willison’s voice beating in his ears.
“Don’t take chances, Barnaby. If that shoulder begins to hurt, it won’t get any better and it might become permanently weak.”
“Don’t take chances, Barnaby . . .”
“Don’t use your service today.”
If he used the service and yet lost, he knew it would do great harm. And he needed every muscle in perfect trim if he were to use it with full force. He went through the formalities, and won the right to serve first. He could almost hear the silence of the eight thousand spectators. There wasn’t a vacant seat and hardly room anywhere among the standing crowds.
He served, good, fast, swerving.
In five minutes, he knew that without his ‘fireball’ services he could not beat his opponent. And at the same time, he realised that he was not fit enough to exert the strength he needed for the ‘fireball’.
Gideon sat in front of the television set at the Brighton Hotel where Kate had a room overlooking the sea. The main news was over, and there were some action shots of the English batsmen at Lords. “Unless the weather changes, the second Test will almost certainly end in a draw,” a commentator was saying. Then another said: “Among the other results at Wimbledon today, was Cyril Wallers’ narrow victory over Barnaby Rudge, the American, 4-6, 6-4, 5-7, 7-5, 6-2. The American, victim of an assault which would have made most players scratch, tired rapidly in the last set and was obviously ‘nursing’ his right shoulder. The top seeds all won their rounds comfortably.”
Gideon switched off. Kate, sitting with her feet up and a book in her lap, gazed contentedly out at the lights beginning to twinkle on the piers, and the evening sky reflected in the pale, calm sea. She would be all right, Gideon knew. They would be able to cope, whatever came. Then, by some odd quirk of thought, he remembered the fan in his office. He still did not know who had put it there, but one day he would find out.
THE END.
