Bolt - By Dick Francis Page 0,64

Chiswick to bring you back,’ I said.

‘Couldn’t Thomas …?’

‘Thomas,’ I said, ‘says he wouldn’t miss the show for anything. He and Sammy will both be there. I’m not walking into that alley on my own.’

‘I won’t be able to work,’ Danielle said. ‘I don’t think I’ll go.’

‘Indeed you must,’ Litsi said. ‘Everything must look normal.’

‘But what if he comes?’ she said. ‘What if you catch him, what then?’

‘I’ll make him an offer he can’t resist,’ I said, and although they both wanted to know what it was, I thought I wouldn’t tell them just yet.

FOURTEEN

We all went to Sandown races, except of course for Roland, still in the care of Sammy.

The recording telephone was in Mrs Jenkins’ office, with instructions to everybody that if anyone telephoned about any messages for Danielle, every word was to be recorded, and the caller must be asked for a number or an address for us to get back to him.

‘He may ask about a reward,’ I said to the wispy-waif secretary, and also to Dawson and to Sammy. ‘If he does, assure him he’ll get one.’ And they all nodded and asked no questions.

Litsi, Danielle and I delayed leaving the house until after Thomas had driven away with the princess and Beatrice, who was complaining that she didn’t like going to the races twice in one week. Thomas, closing her into the back seat, gave me a large wink before settling himself behind the wheel, and I thought how trusting all the princess’s staff were, doing things whose purpose they didn’t wholly understand, content only to be told that it was ultimately for the princess’s sake.

There was no sign of the Rolls when we walked round to the mews, and I alarmed Litsi and Danielle greatly by checking my car again for traps. I borrowed the sliding mirror-on-wheels which the mechanics used for quick inspections of cars’ undersides, but found no explosive sticky strangers, yet all the same I wouldn’t let the other two get into the car before I’d started it, driven it a few yards, and braked fiercely to a halt.

‘Do you do this every time you go out?’ Litsi asked thoughtfully, as they eventually took their seats.

‘Every time, just now.’

‘Why don’t you park somewhere else?’ Danielle asked reasonably.

‘I did think of it,’ I said. ‘But it takes less time to check than find parking places.’

‘Apart from which,’ Litsi said, ‘you want Nanterre to know where you keep your car, if he doesn’t know already.’

‘Mm.’

‘I wish this wasn’t happening,’ Danielle said.

When we reached the racecourse, they again went off to lunch and I to work. Litsi might have been lucky enough to dodge the publicity, but too many papers had spelled my name dead right, and so many strangers shook my hand that I found the whole afternoon embarrassing.

The one who was predictably upset by the general climate of approval was Maynard Allardeck who seemed to be dogging my footsteps, presumably hoping to catch me in some infringement of the rules.

Although not one of the Stewards officially acting at that meeting, he was standing in the parade ring before every race, watching everything I did, and each time I returned I found him on the weighing room steps, his eyes hostile and intent.

He was looking noble as usual, a pillar of society, a gentleman who wouldn’t know an asset if it stripped in front of him. When I went out for the third of my rides, on the princess’s runner Abseil, she at once remarked on Maynard’s presence at a distance of no more than a few yards.

‘Mr Allardeck,’ she said, when I joined her, Litsi, Danielle and Beatrice in the parade ring, ‘is staring at you.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Who is Mr Allardeck?’ Beatrice demanded.

‘Kit’s sister’s husband’s father,’ Danielle answered succinctly, which left her aunt not much better informed.

‘It’s unnerving,’ Litsi said.

I nodded. ‘I think it’s supposed to be. He’s been doing it all afternoon.’

‘You don’t, however, appear to be unnerved.’

‘Not so far.’ I turned to the princess. ‘I always meant to ask you what he said after Cascade won last week.’

The princess made a small gesture of distress at the thought of her horse’s fate, but said, ‘He insisted you’d flogged the horse unmercifully. Those were his words. If he’d been able to find a mark on Cascade …’ she shrugged. ‘He wanted me to confirm you’d been excessively cruel.’

‘Thank you for not doing it.’

She nodded, knowing I meant it.

‘I’ll be gentle on Abseil,’ I said.

‘Not too gentle.’ She smiled. ‘I do