Part 9 (1/2)

”Oh, I won't go quite so far as that,” Phillips said modestly; ”it's only an idea that occurred to me which I was reminded of by something I read when I was in South Africa. But mightn't this be a coincidence?”

”I think not,” Rickerby replied, ”you could hardly say that of a series of bets in which Selwyn always loses and which are never made till after the race is run.”

”Extraordinary,” Phillips said. ”But I can't see how it can be anything more than a mere coincidence. I suppose you do a tremendous lot of late betting.”

”My dear sir, that is exactly what the club is for. Some of us wouldn't be able to live without it. But, all the same, we don't bet a second after the official time of starting.”

By this time the smoking-room was filling up rapidly. Two or three score of men had come mainly to hear the result of the afternoon's racing and to make their bets up to the very last moment that wagers were accepted.

Phillips, apparently perfectly satisfied with what he had heard, lounged in one corner smoking a cigar, watching the crowd of sportsmen keenly out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to have one glance, too, for the weather outside, which had changed somewhat, for the sky was overcast and flakes of snow were falling. A little later the room was almost in darkness and the whole world seemed to be lost in a white drift. The clock over the mantelpiece pointed to nearly twenty minutes past three.

The result of the three o'clock race had been announced, and, so far as Phillips could tell, there had not been one sensational incident in the way of a bet.

”Your friend Selwyn is evidently not present to-day,” Phillips observed, as Rickerby dropped into a seat by his side.

”Oh, yes, he is,” the bookmaker retorted.

”That's very interesting,” Phillips said. ”I wish you would introduce me to Mr. Selwyn. I think a little later I shall be able to show him a way of saving money.”

CHAPTER XV

JOLLY & CO.

Phillips slipped out of the club by and by, and for a while walked up and down opposite, studying the building in which the Post Club was situated. It was a large block of offices on five or six floors, mostly given over to merchants and dealers whose business was in connexion with Covent Garden Market. Moving up and down as if waiting for a friend, Phillips was making an exceedingly careful scrutiny of the building.

”It isn't as easy as I thought it was at first,” he said. ”I've got a pretty shrewd idea, for which I have in the main to thank that snowstorm. It is evident that Rickerby is perfectly right, and that there is some cunning plot afoot to rob this Selwyn. I wonder whether Rickerby was alluding to Raymond Copley. It can't be anybody else. Now it is clear the gang cannot make late bets during a snowstorm or thick mist or anything of that kind. I should like to know how they manage to get the name of the winner into the club before the horse is past the post. But that I must leave for the present. The point I have to find out now is how the man upstairs who comes to do the betting gets his information. If there was another block of buildings opposite the club I could understand it, because it would be easy to signal from one window to another. But there's nothing opposite except the Market with a lot of porters hanging about, and I don't suppose they have anything to do with it. The puzzle beats me for the moment. Still, having got so far, it is hard if I can't get to the bottom of it. The signal must come from somewhere in the block of buildings where the club is situated. Well, that gives me something to go on with anyhow, and I haven't much time to spare, especially as I must meet Fielden to-morrow at Mirst Park. I suppose there is only one thing to do, and that is to find out the name and occupation of every firm which has an office under the roof. The first thing I need is a Post Office Directory.”

With the aid of this book he managed to winnow down the doubtful firms to five or six. The rest he found were established houses engaged in legitimate trade, the others being more or less new-comers whose callings were rather nondescript. By a stroke of good fortune, just before five o'clock Phillips obtained the a.s.sistance of a clerk in a fruit concern, whose firm was in the block of buildings in which the club was housed, and the doubtful firms were reduced to two. Standing outside looking up at the club, the windows of which were now in darkness, Phillips saw that next door were a couple of windows bearing on their wire blinds the legend, Jolly & Co. There was a light behind the blinds, so that the lettering stood out clear and distinct.

”I think I am getting on,” Phillips commented. ”Now, how am I going to find out about Jolly & Co.? It is a bit too dangerous to ask casually for Mr. Jolly. But, stop. Most of the people have left, and it is any odds the light has been used by the charwoman who is cleaning out the offices. It won't do any harm to go up and see.”

Phillips put his plan into execution. He came at length to the second floor, and stopped at a door at the end of the pa.s.sage which led to the rooms occupied by the Post Club. On the door the name of Jolly & Co. was painted in white letters. From behind it came the sound of scrubbing.

Phillips entered boldly. The room was furnished as an office. There were a table and a chair or two, and in a corner an American roll-top desk.

Beside the desk was a telephone which, from its glittering newness, had not been long erected. Attached to the receiver in the place of the usual short flex was a cord at least eight or nine feet long. It was a small matter in itself, but it did not escape Phillips' keen glance. He wondered what it was for. It was certain that it was not attached to the receiver by accident.

In one part of the room an old woman was kneeling down scrubbing the floorcloth.

”Is Mr. Jolly here?” Phillips asked.

”No, sir,” was the reply. ”He went away early. I saw the key of the office hanging up soon after half-past three.”

Phillips smiled. He was beginning to understand now. There had been snowstorms most of the afternoon at intervals, and this, no doubt, had interfered with the campaign against the bookmakers.

”That is very annoying,” Phillips said. ”I particularly want to see Mr.

Jolly. I have some very important business with him. Can you tell me where he lives?”