I unfolded the paper.
‘What’s the matter?’ Nicol said.
‘Nothing.’
I put the paper into my jacket pocket and tried to take the grimness out of my face. The message was written in capital letters and allowed for no mistakes.
DON’T BID FOR 182.
‘Jonah... you’re as tense as a high wire.’
I looked at Nicol vaguely. He said again, ‘For God’s sake, what’s the matter?’
I loosened a few muscles and said flippantly, ‘If you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go.’
‘Go where?’
‘I expect I’ll find out.’
‘I don’t understand you.’
‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and see this filly sold.’
We went into the big circular building and sat in the section of seats nearest the door, the section crowded as usual with breeders, agents and an all-sorts mixture of racing people. Ronnie North was in the row behind us. He leaned forward and spoke into the space between our heads.
‘The word is that the On Safari filly is likely to be sterile. Some infection or other... No good as a breeding prospect, they say. Such a pity.’
Nicol looked startled and disappointed on my behalf. He asked Ronnie one or two questions but Ronnie shook his head sadly and said he didn’t know details, only that he’d heard it on the best authority.
‘She wouldn’t be worth so much in that case,’ Nicol said, turning back to me.
‘Not if it’s true.’
‘But... don’t you think it is?’
‘I don’t know.’
Lot 180 was being sold. There was so little time. ‘Got some business,’ I said to Nicol. ‘See you later.’
I scudded to the telephone. The On Safari filly came from an Irish stud I’d scarcely heard of, and it took two precious minutes for the Irish service to find me the number. Could they ring it at once, I asked.
‘Half an hour’s delay.’
‘If it isn’t at once it will be too late.’
‘Hold on...’
There were clicks and distant voices and then suddenly,clearly, a very Irish voice saying ‘Hello?’
I asked if the On Safari filly had ever had an infection or an assessment of fertility.
‘Well now,’ said the voice, deliberating slowly. ‘I wouldn’t know about that now. I wouldn’t know anything about the horses, do you see, because I’m just here minding the children until Mr and Mrs O’Kearey get home on the train from Dublin... they’ll be home in an hour, so they will. They’ll be able to answer your question in an hour.’
When I got back the filly was already being led round and the bidding, such as it was, had started. The seat beside Nicol had been taken. I stood in the chute through which the horses were led into the ring and listened to the auctioneer assuring everyone that she had a clean bill of health.
A man beside me shook his head dubiously. I glanced at him. A senior partner from one of the big firms. He stared morosely at the filly and made no move to buy her.
A couple of people in the crowd had taken the price up to six thousand five hundred, and there she stuck. The last bidder began to look intensely worried and obviously didn’t want her. I guessed he was acting for the breeder and would have to buy the filly back if she didn’t fetch a better price.
‘Six thousand five... any advance on six thousand five? She’s on the market...’ He looked round the ranks of bloodstock agents and took note of the shuttered impassive faces. ‘Six thousand five once then. Six thousand five twice... All done?’ He raised his gavel and I lifted my hand.
‘Six thousand six.’
The last bidder’s face relaxed in pure relief. Several heads turned in my general direction, looking to see who had bid, and the senior partner beside me stirred and said out of the corner of his mouth, ‘They say she’s sterile.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
No one else made a move. The auctioneer tried harder for another hit but without result, and knocked her down with a shake of the head.
‘Jonah Dereham,’ he announced, writing it down.
A ripple like a shudder went through the small group round Vic Vincent. I didn’t wait to hear what they had to say but beat it hastily down to the stables to see about transport. On the way back an hour and a strong cup of coffee later I came face to face with Eddy Ingram who said loudly and without a smile that he had been looking for me.
‘If you’ve bought that On Safari filly for me,’ he said positively, ‘You can forget it.’
The bright lights around the collecting ring shone on a face from which most of the good nature had evaporated. The delectable Marji registered scorn.
‘She’s bound to be fast, with that breeding,’ I said.
‘I’ve been told she’s infected and sterile.’ He was angry about it. Not the usual beaming Eddy at all. ‘You’re not spending my money on rubbish like that.’
‘I haven’t bought you a dud yet, Eddy,’ I said. ‘If you don’t want this filly, well, fair enough, I’ll find someone who does. But she’s a bargain at that price and I’d have liked you to benefit.’
‘But she’s sterile. And you knew it before you bid for her. You weren’t acting in my best interests.’
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Now there’s a nice phrase. Not acting in your best interests. Who said that?’
His eyes flickered. ‘I don’t see...’
‘I do,’ I said dryly.
‘Anyway...’ He shrugged off his doubts. ‘Anyway, I’ll take the one you bought for me this morning, but I don’t want you to get me any more.’
Someone had been very quickly persuasive, but then Eddy was gullible and a fool. I wondered whether all my clients would desert with such speed.
Eddy came out with the clincher which had alienated him fastest. ‘You didn’t think I would find out she was sterile.You thought you’d collect your five per cent from me for buying her even though you knew she was probably useless.’
‘How do you know she’s sterile?’ I asked.
‘Vic says so.’
‘And is Vic going to buy your horses in future?’
He nodded.
‘Good luck to you, Eddy,’ I said.
He still hovered indecisively. ‘You haven’t denied it.’
‘I did not buy that filly just to get five per cent.’
He began to look unhappy. ‘Vic said you’d deny it and I’d be a fool to believe you...’
‘Vic’s a persuasive fellow,’ I said.
‘But you’ve bought me four good ones...’
‘You sort it out, Eddy. Think it over and let me know.’
I walked away and left him.
An hour later I again telephoned to Ireland.
‘Is she what?’
I took my eardrum away from the receiver and winced.
‘Of course she’s not sterile.’ The Irish voice yelled out as if crossing the Irish Sea without benefit of wires. ‘She’s never had a day’s illness since she was foaled. Where the devil did you hear that?’
‘At the sales.’
‘What?’ Alarm joined the indignation. ‘How much did she make?’
I told him. I removed the receiver a good ten inches and still had no difficulty in hearing. Vic Vincent’s victims all seemed to be endowed with good lungs.
‘I told a neighbour of mine to bid up to ten thousand and I’d be sure to pay him back if he had to buy her.’
‘His nerve broke at six thousand five,’ I said.
‘I’ll murder him.’ He sounded as if he meant to. ‘I told that Vic Vincent fellow I didn’t need his help, I’d get my own bidding done thank you very much, and now look. Now look.’ He gurgled.
‘What did Vic offer?’ I asked.
‘He said he’d raise the filly to ten thousand, and if it made more than that he wanted half. Half! I ask you. I offered him one fifth and that’s a bloody liberty, even that much. He said half or nothing so I said nothing and go to hell.’