In the Frame - By Dick Francis Page 0,53

waist height. He tested them after a minute, and he couldn’t pull them off. We returned to the car.

One or two more people passed, turning their heads to listen to the radio on the car roof, smiling in brotherhood at the universal national interest. The street was noticeably emptying as the crucial time drew near.

‘… Vinery carries the colours of Mr. Hudson Taylor of Adelaide and must be in with a good outside chance. Fourth in the Caulfield Cup and before that, second at Randwick against Brain-Teaser, who went on to beat Afternoon Tea…’

‘Stop listening to the damn race!’ Jik said sharply.

‘Sorry.’

‘Ready?’

‘Yes.’

We walked back to the entrance to the gallery, Jik carrying the sort of glass-cutter used by, among others, picture framers. Without casting a glance around for possible onlookers, he applied the diamond cutting edge to the matter in hand, using considerable strength as he pushed the professional tool round the outside of the pane. I stood behind him to block any passing curious glances.

‘Hold the right-hand handle.’ he said, as he started on the last of the four sides, the left-hand vertical.

I stepped past him and slotted my hand through the grip. None of the few people left in the street paid the slightest attention.

‘When it goes,’ Jik said, ‘for God’s sake don’t drop it.’

‘No.’

‘Put your knee against the glass. Gently, for God’s sake.’

I did what he said. He finished the fourth long cut.

‘Press smoothly.’

I did that. Jik’s knee, too, was firmly against the glass. With his left hand he gripped the chromium handle, and with the palm of his right he began jolting the top perimeter of the heavy pane.

Jik had cut a lot of glass in his time, even if not in exactly these circumstances. The big flat sheet cracked away evenly all round under our pressure and parted with hardly a splinter. The weight fell suddenly on to the handle I held in my right hand, and Jik steadied the now free sheet of glass with hands and knees and blasphemy.

‘Jesus, don’t let go.’

‘No.’

The heavy vibrations set up in the glass by the breaking process subsided, and Jik took over the right-hand handle from me. Without any seeming inconvenience he pivoted the sheet of glass so that it opened like a door. He stepped through the hole, lifted the glass up wholesale by the two handles, carried it several feet, and propped it against the wall to the right of the more conventional way in.

He came out, and we went over to the car. From there, barely ten feet away, one could not see that the gallery was not still securely shut. There were by now in any case very few to look.

‘… Most jockeys have now mounted and the horses will soon be going out onto the course…’

I picked up the radio. Jik exchanged the glass-cutter for a metal saw, a hammer and a chisel, and shut the boot, and we walked through the unorthodox entrance as if it was all in the day’s work. Often only the furtive manner gave away the crook. If you behaved as if you had every right to, it took longer for anyone to suspect.

It would really have been best had we next been able to open the real door, but a quick inspection proved it impossible. There were two useful locks, and no keys.

‘The stairs are at the back,’ I said.

‘Lead on.

We walked the length of the plushy green carpet and down the beckoning stairs. There was a bank of electric switches at the top: we pressed those lighting the basement and left the upstairs lot off.

Heart-thumping time, I thought. It would take only a policeman to walk along and start fussing about a car parked in the wrong place to set Cassavetes and Todd on the road to jail.

‘… horses are now going out on to the course. Foursquare in front, sweating up and fighting jockey Ted Nester for control…’

We reached the front of the stairs. I turned back towards the office, but Jik took off fast down the corridor.

‘Come back,’ I said urgently. ‘If that steel gate shuts down…’

‘Relax,’ Jik said. ‘You told me.’ He stopped before reaching the threshold of the furthest room. Stood still, and looked. Came back rapidly.

‘O.K. The Munnings are all there. Three of them. Also something else which will stun you. Go and look while I get this door open.’

‘… cantering down to the start, and the excitement is mounting here now…’

With a feeling of urgency I trekked down the