This last was a very necessary move if you wanted a happy life, for the Cynthia affair had jarred the unfortunate mutt to such an extent that he was always waylaying4 one and decanting5 his anguished6 soul. And when, one morning, he blew into my bedroom while I was toying with a bit of breakfast, I decided7 to take a firm line from the start. I could stand having him moaning all over me after dinner, and even after lunch; but at breakfast, no. We Woosters are amiability8 itself, but there is a limit.
"Now look here, old friend," I said. "I know your bally heart is broken and all that, and at some future time I shall be delighted to hear all about it, but——"
"I didn't come to talk about that."
"No? Good egg!"
"The past," said young Bingo, "is dead. Let us say no more about it."
[Pg 161]
"Right-o!"
"I have been wounded to the very depths of my soul, but don't speak about it."
"I won't."
"Ignore it. Forget it."
"Absolutely!"
I hadn't seen him so dashed reasonable for days.
"What I came to see you about this morning, Bertie," he said, fishing a sheet of paper out of his pocket, "was to ask if you would care to come in on another little flutter."
If there is one thing we Woosters are simply dripping with, it is sporting blood. I bolted the rest of my sausage, and sat up and took notice.
"Proceed," I said. "You interest me strangely, old bird."
Bingo laid the paper on the bed.
"On Monday week," he said, "you may or may not know, the annual village school treat takes place. Lord Wickhammersley lends the Hall grounds for the purpose. There will be games, and a conjurer, and cokernut shies, and tea in a tent. And also sports."
"I know. Cynthia was telling me."
"Would you mind not mentioning that name? I am not made of marble."
"Sorry!"
"How do you mean, 'Are we on'?"
"I am referring to the sports. Steggles did so well out of the Sermon Handicap that he has decided to make a book on these sports. Punters can be accommodated at ante-post odds11 or starting price, according to their preference. I think we ought to look into it," said young Bingo.
[Pg 162]
I pressed the bell.
"I'll consult Jeeves. I don't touch any sporting proposition without his advice. Jeeves," I said, as he drifted in, "rally round."
"Sir?"
"Stand by. We want your advice."
"Very good, sir."
"State your case, Bingo."
Bingo stated his case.
"What about it, Jeeves?" I said. "Do we go in?"
Jeeves pondered to some extent.
"I am inclined to favour the idea, sir."
That was good enough for me. "Right," I said. "Then we will form a syndicate and bust12 the Ring. I supply the money, you supply the brains, and Bingo—what do you supply, Bingo?"
"If you will carry me, and let me settle up later," said young Bingo, "I think I can put you in the way of winning a parcel on the Mothers' Sack Race."
"All right. We will put you down as Inside Information. Now, what are the events?"
* * * * *
Bingo reached for his paper and consulted it.
"Girls' Under Fourteen Fifty-Yard Dash seems to open the proceedings13."
"Anything to say about that, Jeeves?"
"No, sir. I have no information."
"What's the next?"
"Boys' and Girls' Mixed Animal Potato Race, All Ages."
This was a new one to me. I had never heard of it at any of the big meetings.
"What's that?"
"Rather sporting," said young Bingo. "The competitors enter in couples, each couple being[Pg 163] assigned an animal cry and a potato. For instance, let's suppose that you and Jeeves entered. Jeeves would stand at a fixed15 point holding a potato. You would have your head in a sack, and you would grope about trying to find Jeeves and making a noise like a cat; Jeeves also making a noise like a cat. Other competitors would be making noises like cows and pigs and dogs, and so on, and groping about for their potato-holders, who would also be making noises like cows and pigs and dogs and so on——"
I stopped the poor fish.
"Jolly if you're fond of animals," I said, "but on the whole——"
"Too open, what?"
"Exactly, sir. Very hard to estimate form."
"Carry on, Bingo. Where do we go from there?"
"Mothers' Sack Race."
"Ah! that's better. This is where you know something."
"A gift for Mrs. Penworthy, the tobacconist's wife," said Bingo confidently. "I was in at her shop yesterday, buying cigarettes, and she told me she had won three times at fairs in Worcestershire. She only moved to these parts a short time ago, so nobody knows about her. She promised me she would keep herself dark, and I think we could get a good price."
"Risk a tenner each way, Jeeves, what?"
"I think so, sir."
"Girls' Open Egg and Spoon Race," read Bingo.
"How about that?"
"I doubt if it would be worth while to invest, sir," said Jeeves. "I am told it is a certainty for[Pg 164] last year's winner, Sarah Mills, who will doubtless start an odds-on favourite."
"Good, is she?"
"They tell me in the village that she carries a beautiful egg, sir."
"Then there's the Obstacle Race," said Bingo. "Risky18, in my opinion. Like betting on the Grand National. Fathers' Hat-Trimming Contest—another speculative19 event. That's all, except for the Choir20 Boys' Hundred Yards Handicap, for a pewter mug presented by the vicar—open to all whose voices have not broken before the second Sunday in Epiphany. Willie Chambers21 won last year, in a canter, receiving fifteen yards. This time he will probably be handicapped out of the race. I don't know what to advise."
"If I might make a suggestion, sir."
I eyed Jeeves with interest. I don't know that I'd ever seen him look so nearly excited.
"You've got something up your sleeve?"
"I have, sir."
"Red-hot?"
"That precisely describes it, sir. I think I may confidently assert that we have the winner of the Choir Boys' Handicap under this very roof, sir. Harold, the page-boy."
"Page-boy? Do you mean the tubby little chap in buttons one sees bobbing about here and there? Why, dash it, Jeeves, nobody has a greater respect for your knowledge of form than I have, but I'm hanged if I can see Harold catching22 the judge's eye. He's practically circular, and every time I've seen him he's been leaning up against something, half asleep."
"He receives thirty yards, sir, and could win from scratch. The boy is a flier."
"How do you know?"
[Pg 165]
Jeeves coughed, and there was a dreamy look in his eye.
"I was as much astonished as yourself, sir, when I first became aware of the lad's capabilities23. I happened to pursue him one morning with the intention of fetching him a clip on the side of the head——"
"Great Scott, Jeeves! You!"
"Yes, sir. The boy is of an outspoken24 disposition25, and had made an opprobrious26 remark respecting my personal appearance."
"What did he say about your appearance?"
"I have forgotten, sir," said Jeeves, with a touch of austerity. "But it was opprobrious. I endeavoured to correct him, but he outdistanced me by yards and made good his escape."
"But, I say, Jeeves, this is sensational27. And yet—if he's such a sprinter29, why hasn't anybody in the village found it out? Surely he plays with the other boys?"
"No, sir. As his lordship's page-boy, Harold does not mix with the village lads."
"He is somewhat acutely alive to the existence of class distinctions, sir."
"You're absolutely certain he's such a wonder?" said Bingo. "I mean, it wouldn't do to plunge31 unless you're sure."
"If you desire to ascertain the boy's form by personal inspection32, sir, it will be a simple matter to arrange a secret trial."
"I'm bound to say I should feel easier in my mind," I said.
"Then if I may take a shilling from the money on your dressing-table——"
"What for?"
"I propose to bribe33 the lad to speak slightingly[Pg 166] of the second footman's squint34, sir. Charles is somewhat sensitive on the point, and should undoubtedly35 make the lad extend himself. If you will be at the first-floor passage-window, overlooking the back-door, in half an hour's time——"
I don't know when I've dressed in such a hurry. As a rule, I'm what you might call a slow and careful dresser: I like to linger over the tie and see that the trousers are just so; but this morning I was all worked up. I just shoved on my things anyhow, and joined Bingo at the window with a quarter of an hour to spare.
The passage-window looked down on to a broad sort of paved courtyard, which ended after about twenty yards in an archway through a high wall. Beyond this archway you got on to a strip of the drive, which curved round for another thirty yards or so, till it was lost behind a thick shrubbery. I put myself in the stripling's place and thought what steps I would take with a second footman after me. There was only one thing to do—leg it for the shrubbery and take cover; which meant that at least fifty yards would have to be covered—an excellent test. If good old Harold could fight off the second footman's challenge long enough to allow him to reach the bushes, there wasn't a choirboy in England who could give him thirty yards in the hundred. I waited, all of a twitter, for what seemed hours, and then suddenly there was a confused noise without, and something round and blue and buttony shot through the back-door and buzzed for the archway like a mustang. And about two seconds later out came the second footman, going his hardest.
There was nothing to it. Absolutely nothing. The field never had a chance. Long before the footman reached the half-way mark, Harold was[Pg 167] in the bushes, throwing stones. I came away from the window thrilled to the marrow36; and when I met Jeeves on the stairs I was so moved that I nearly grasped his hand.
"Jeeves," I said, "no discussion! The Wooster shirt goes on this boy!"
"Very good, sir," said Jeeves.
* * * * *
The worst of these country meetings is that you can't plunge as heavily as you would like when you get a good thing, because it alarms the Ring. Steggles, though pimpled37, was, as I have indicated, no chump, and if I had invested all I wanted to he would have put two and two together. I managed to get a good solid bet down for the syndicate, however, though it did make him look thoughtful. I heard in the next few days that he had been making searching inquiries38 in the village concerning Harold; but nobody could tell him anything, and eventually he came to the conclusion, I suppose, that I must be having a long shot on the strength of that thirty-yards start. Public opinion wavered between Jimmy Goode, receiving ten yards, at seven-to-two, and Alexander Bartlett, with six yards start, at eleven-to-four. Willie Chambers, scratch, was offered to the public at two-to-one, but found no takers.
We were taking no chances on the big event, and directly we had got our money on at a nice hundred-to-twelve Harold was put into strict training. It was a wearing business, and I can understand now why most of the big trainers are grim, silent men, who look as though they had suffered. The kid wanted constant watching. It was no good talking to him about honour and glory and how proud his mother would be when he[Pg 168] wrote and told her he had won a real cup—the moment blighted39 Harold discovered that training meant knocking off pastry40, taking exercise, and keeping away from the cigarettes, he was all against it, and it was only by unceasing vigilance that we managed to keep him in any shape at all. It was the diet that was the stumbling-block. As far as exercise went, we could generally arrange for a sharp dash every morning with the assistance of the second footman. It ran into money, of course, but that couldn't be helped. Still, when a kid has simply to wait till the butler's back is turned to have the run of the pantry, and has only to nip into the smoking-room to collect a handful of the best Turkish, training becomes a rocky job. We could only hope that on the day his natural stamina41 would pull him through.
And then one evening young Bingo came back from the links with a disturbing story. He had been in the habit of giving Harold mild exercise in the afternoons by taking him out as a caddie.
At first he seemed to think it humorous, the poor chump! He bubbled over with merry mirth as he began his tale.
"I say, rather funny this afternoon," he said. "You ought to have seen Steggles's face!"
"Seen Steggles's face? What for?"
"Good heavens! You didn't let Harold sprint in front of Steggles?"
"I never thought of that," he said, gloomily. "It wasn't my fault. I was playing a round with Steggles, and after we'd finished we went into the club-house for a drink, leaving Harold with[Pg 169] the clubs outside. In about five minutes we came out, and there was the kid on the gravel44 practising swings with Steggles's driver and a stone. When he saw us coming, the kid dropped the club and was over the horizon like a streak45. Steggles was absolutely dumbfounded. And I must say it was a revelation even to me. The kid certainly gave of his best. Of course, it's a nuisance in a way; but I don't see, on second thoughts," said Bingo, brightening up, "what it matters. We're on at a good price. We've nothing to lose by the kid's form becoming known. I take it he will start odds-on, but that doesn't affect us."
I looked at Jeeves. Jeeves looked at me.
"It affects us all right if he doesn't start at all."
"Precisely, sir."
"What do you mean?" asked Bingo.
"If you ask me," I said, "I think Steggles will try to nobble him before the race."
"I think he would have a jolly good try. Steggles is a bad man. From now on, Jeeves, we must watch Harold like hawks47."
"Undoubtedly, sir."
"Ceaseless vigilance, what?"
"Precisely, sir."
"You wouldn't care to sleep in his room, Jeeves?"
"No, sir, I should not."
"No, nor would I, if it comes to that. But dash it all," I said, "we're letting ourselves get rattled48! We're losing our nerve. This won't do. How can Steggles possibly get at Harold, even if he wants to?"
There was no cheering young Bingo up. He's[Pg 170] one of those birds who simply leap at the morbid49 view, if you give them half a chance.
"There are all sorts of ways of nobbling favourites," he said, in a sort of death-bed voice. "You ought to read some of these racing50 novels. In 'Pipped on the Post,' Lord Jasper Mauleverer as near as a toucher outed Bonny Betsy by bribing51 the head lad to slip a cobra into her stable the night before the Derby!"
"What are the chances of a cobra biting Harold, Jeeves?"
"Slight, I should imagine, sir. And in such an event, knowing the boy as intimately as I do, my anxiety would be entirely52 for the snake."
"Still, unceasing vigilance, Jeeves."
"Most certainly, sir."
* * * * *
I must say I got a bit fed with young Bingo in the next few days. It's all very well for a fellow with a big winner in his stable to exercise proper care, but in my opinion Bingo overdid53 it. The blighter's mind appeared to be absolutely saturated54 with racing fiction; and in stories of that kind, as far as I could make out, no horse is ever allowed to start in a race without at least a dozen attempts to put it out of action. He stuck to Harold like a plaster. Never let the unfortunate kid out of his sight. Of course, it meant a lot to the poor old egg if he could collect on this race, because it would give him enough money to chuck his tutoring job and get back to London; but all the same, he needn't have woken me up at three in the morning twice running—once to tell me we ought to cook Harold's food ourselves to prevent doping: the other time to say that he had heard mysterious noises in the shrubbery. But he reached the limit,[Pg 171] in my opinion, when he insisted on my going to evening service on Sunday, the day before the sports.
"Why on earth?" I said, never being much of a lad for evensong.
"Well, I can't go myself. I shan't be here. I've got to go to London to-day with young Egbert." Egbert was Lord Wickhammersley's son, the one Bingo was tutoring. "He's going for a visit down in Kent, and I've got to see him off at Charing55 Cross. It's an infernal nuisance. I shan't be back till Monday afternoon. In fact, I shall miss most of the sports, I expect. Everything, therefore, depends on you, Bertie."
"But why should either of us go to evening service?"
"What about it? I can't stop him dislocating his neck over a high note, if that's what you're afraid of."
"Fool! Steggles sings in the choir, too. There may be dirty work after the service."
"What absolute rot!"
"Is it?" said young Bingo. "Well, let me tell you that in 'Jenny, the Girl Jockey,' the villain56 kidnapped the boy who was to ride the favourite the night before the big race, and he was the only one who understood and could control the horse, and if the heroine hadn't dressed up in riding things and——"
"Oh, all right, all right. But, if there's any danger, it seems to me the simplest thing would be for Harold not to turn out on Sunday evening."
"He must turn out. You seem to think the infernal kid is a monument of rectitude, beloved by all. He's got the shakiest reputation of any kid in the village. His name is as near being mud as[Pg 172] it can jolly well stick. He's played hookey from the choir so often that the vicar told him, if one more thing happened, he would fire him out. Nice chumps we should look if he was scratched the night before the race!"
There's something about evening service in a country church that makes a fellow feel drowsy58 and peaceful. Sort of end-of-a-perfect-day feeling. Old Heppenstall was up in the pulpit, and he has a kind of regular, bleating59 delivery that assists thought. They had left the door open, and the air was full of a mixed scent60 of trees and honeysuckle and mildew61 and villagers' Sunday clothes. As far as the eye could reach, you could see farmers propped62 up in restful attitudes, breathing heavily; and the children in the congregation who had fidgeted during the earlier part of the proceedings were now lying back in a surfeited63 sort of coma64. The last rays of the setting sun shone through the stained-glass windows, birds were twittering in the trees, the women's dresses crackled gently in the stillness. Peaceful. That's what I'm driving at. I felt peaceful. Everybody felt peaceful. And that is why the explosion, when it came, sounded like the end of all things.
I call it an explosion, because that was what it seemed like when it broke loose. One moment a dreamy hush65 was all over the place, broken only by old Heppenstall talking about our duty to our neighbours; and then, suddenly, a sort of piercing, shrieking66 squeal67 that got you right between the eyes and ran all the way down your spine68 and out at the soles of the feet.
"EE-ee-ee-ee-ee! Oo-ee! Ee-ee-ee-ee!"
[Pg 173]
It sounded like about six hundred pigs having their tails twisted simultaneously69, but it was simply the kid Harold, who appeared to be having some species of fit. He was jumping up and down and slapping at the back of his neck. And about every other second he would take a deep breath and give out another of the squeals70.
Well, I mean, you can't do that sort of thing in the middle of the sermon during evening service without exciting remark. The congregation came out of its trance with a jerk, and climbed on the pews to get a better view. Old Heppenstall stopped in the middle of a sentence and spun71 round. And a couple of vergers with great presence of mind bounded up the aisle72 like leopards73, collected Harold, still squealing74, and marched him out. They disappeared into the vestry, and I grabbed my hat and legged it round to the stage-door, full of apprehension75 and what not. I couldn't think what the deuce could have happened, but somewhere dimly behind the proceedings there seemed to me to lurk76 the hand of the blighter Steggles.
* * * * *
By the time I got there and managed to get someone to open the door, which was locked, the service seemed to be over. Old Heppenstall was standing77 in the middle of a crowd of choir-boys and vergers and sextons and what not, putting the wretched Harold through it with no little vim78. I had come in at the tail-end of what must have been a fairly fruity oration79.
"Wretched boy! How dare you——"
"I got a sensitive skin!"
"This is no time to talk about your skin——"
"Absurd!"
[Pg 174]
"I felt it wriggling——"
"Nonsense!"
"Sounds pretty thin, doesn't it?" said someone at my side.
It was Steggles, dash him. Clad in a snowy surplice or cassock, or whatever they call it, and wearing an expression of grave concern, the blighter had the cold, cynical81 crust to look me in the eyeball without a blink.
"Did you put a beetle down his neck?" I cried.
"Me!" said Steggles. "Me!"
Old Heppenstall was putting on the black cap.
"I do not credit a word of your story, wretched boy! I have warned you before, and now the time has come to act. You cease from this moment to be a member of my choir. Go, miserable82 child!"
Steggles plucked at my sleeve.
"In that case," he said, "those bets, you know—I'm afraid you lose your money, dear old boy. It's a pity you didn't put it on S.P. I always think S.P.'s the only safe way."
I gave him one look. Not a bit of good, of course.
"And they talk about the Purity of the Turf!" I said. And I meant it to sting, by Jove!
* * * * *
Jeeves received the news bravely, but I think the man was a bit rattled beneath the surface.
"An ingenious young gentleman, Mr. Steggles, sir."
"A bally swindler, you mean."
"Perhaps that would be a more exact description. However, these things will happen on the Turf, and it is useless to complain."
"I wish I had your sunny disposition, Jeeves!"
Jeeves bowed.
[Pg 175]
"We now rely, then, it would seem, sir, almost entirely on Mrs. Penworthy. Should she justify83 Mr. Little's encomiums and show real class in the Mothers' Sack Race, our gains will just balance our losses."
"Yes; but that's not much consolation84 when you've been looking forward to a big win."
"It is just possible that we may still find ourselves on the right side of the ledger85 after all, sir. Before Mr. Little left, I persuaded him to invest a small sum for the syndicate of which you were kind enough to make me a member, sir, on the Girls' Egg and Spoon Race."
"On Sarah Mills?"
"No, sir. On a long-priced outsider. Little Prudence86 Baxter, sir, the child of his lordship's head gardener. Her father assures me she has a very steady hand. She is accustomed to bring him his mug of beer from the cottage each afternoon, and he informs me she has never spilled a drop."
Well, that sounded as though young Prudence's control was good. But how about speed? With seasoned performers like Sarah Mills entered, the thing practically amounted to a classic race, and in these big events you must have speed.
"You backed her for a place, too, of course?"
"Yes, sir. Each way."
"Well, I suppose it's all right. I've never known you make a bloomer yet."
"Thank you very much, sir."
* * * * *
I'm bound to say that, as a general rule, my idea of a large afternoon would be to keep as far away from a village school-treat as possible. A[Pg 176] sticky business. But with such grave issues toward, if you know what I mean, I sank my prejudices on this occasion and rolled up. I found the proceedings about as scaly88 as I had expected. It was a warm day, and the hall grounds were a dense89, practically liquid mass of peasantry. Kids seethed90 to and fro. One of them, a small girl of sorts, grabbed my hand and hung on to it as I clove91 my way through the jam to where the Mothers' Sack Race was to finish. We hadn't been introduced, but she seemed to think I would do as well as anyone else to talk to about the rag-doll she had won in the Lucky Dip, and she rather spread herself on the topic.
"I'm going to call it Gertrude," she said. "And I shall undress it every night and put it to bed, and wake it up in the morning and dress it, and put it to bed at night, and wake it up next morning and dress it——"
"I say, old thing," I said, "I don't want to hurry you and all that, but you couldn't condense it a bit, could you? I'm rather anxious to see the finish of this race. The Wooster fortunes are by way of hanging on it."
"I'm going to run in a race soon," she said, shelving the doll for the nonce and descending92 to ordinary chit-chat.
"Yes?" I said. Distrait93, if you know what I mean, and trying to peer through the chinks in the crowd. "What race is that?"
"Egg 'n Spoon."
"No, really? Are you Sarah Mills?"
"Na-ow!" Registering scorn. "I'm Prudence Baxter."
Naturally this put our relations on a different footing. I gazed at her with considerable interest. One of the stable. I must say she didn't look much[Pg 177] of a flier. She was short and round. Bit out of condition, I thought.
"I say," I said, "that being so, you mustn't dash about in the hot sun and take the edge off yourself. You must conserve94 your energies, old friend. Sit down here in the shade."
"Don't want to sit down."
"Well, take it easy, anyhow."
"I'm a good girl," she said.
"I bet you are. I hope you're a good egg-and-spoon racer, too."
"Harold's a bad boy. Harold squealed96 in church and isn't allowed to come to the treat. I'm glad," continued this ornament97 of her sex, wrinkling her nose virtuously98, "because he's a bad boy. He pulled my hair Friday. Harold isn't coming to the treat! Harold isn't coming to the treat! Harold isn't coming to the treat!" she chanted, making a regular song of it.
"Don't rub it in, my dear old gardener's daughter," I pleaded. "You don't know it, but you've hit on rather a painful subject."
"Ah, Wooster, my dear fellow! So you have made friends with this little lady?"
"I am delighted, my dear Wooster," he went on, "quite delighted at the way you young men are throwing yourselves into the spirit of this little festivity of ours."
"Oh, yes?" I said.
"Oh, yes! Even Rupert Steggles. I must confess that my opinion of Rupert Steggles has materially altered for the better this afternoon."
Mine hadn't. But I didn't say so.
[Pg 178]
"I have always considered Rupert Steggles, between ourselves, a rather self-centred youth, by no means the kind who would put himself out to further the enjoyment100 of his fellows. And yet twice within the last half-hour I have observed him escorting Mrs. Penworthy, our worthy17 tobacconist's wife, to the refreshment-tent."
I left him standing. I shook off the clutching hand of the Baxter kid and hared it rapidly to the spot where the Mothers' Sack Race was just finishing. I had a horrid101 presentiment102 that there had been more dirty work at the cross-roads. The first person I ran into was young Bingo. I grabbed him by the arm.
"Who won?"
"I don't know. I didn't notice." There was bitterness in the chappie's voice. "It wasn't Mrs. Penworthy, dash her! Bertie, that hound Steggles is nothing more nor less than one of our leading snakes. I don't know how he heard about her, but he must have got on to it that she was dangerous. Do you know what he did? He lured103 that miserable woman into the refreshment-tent five minutes before the race, and brought her out so weighed down with cake and tea that she blew up in the first twenty yards. Just rolled over and lay there! Well, thank goodness, we still have Harold!"
"Harold? Haven't you heard?"
"Heard?" Bingo turned a delicate green. "Heard what? I haven't heard anything. I only arrived five minutes ago. Came here straight from the station. What has happened? Tell me!"
I slipped him the information. He stared at me for a moment in a ghastly sort of way, then with a hollow groan105 tottered106 away and was lost in the[Pg 179] crowd. A nasty knock, poor chap. I didn't blame him for being upset.
They were clearing the decks now for the Egg and Spoon Race, and I thought I might as well stay where I was and watch the finish. Not that I had much hope. Young Prudence was a good conversationalist, but she didn't seem to me to be the build for a winner.
As far as I could see through the mob, they got off to a good start. A short, red-haired child was making the running with a freckled107 blonde second, and Sarah Mills lying up an easy third. Our nominee108 was straggling along with the field, well behind the leaders. It was not hard even as early as this to spot the winner. There was a grace, a practised precision, in the way Sarah Mills held her spoon that told its own story. She was cutting out a good pace, but her egg didn't even wobble. A natural egg-and-spooner, if ever there was one.
Class will tell. Thirty yards from the tape, the red-haired kid tripped over her feet and shot her egg on to the turf. The freckled blonde fought gamely, but she had run herself out half-way down the straight, and Sarah Mills came past and home on a tight rein109 by several lengths, a popular winner. The blonde was second. A sniffing110 female in blue gingham beat a pie-faced kid in pink for the place-money, and Prudence Baxter, Jeeves's long shot, was either fifth or sixth, I couldn't see which.
And then I was carried along with the crowd to where old Heppenstall was going to present the prizes. I found myself standing next to the man Steggles.
"Hallo, old chap!" he said, very bright and cheery. "You've had a bad day, I'm afraid."
I looked at him with silent scorn. Lost on the blighter, of course.
[Pg 180]
"It's not been a good meeting for any of the big punters," he went on. "Poor old Bingo Little went down badly over that Egg and Spoon Race."
I hadn't been meaning to chat with the fellow, but I was startled.
"How do you mean badly?" I said. "We—he only had a small bet on."
"I don't know what you call small. He had thirty quid each way on the Baxter kid."
The landscape reeled before me.
"What!"
"Thirty quid at ten to one. I thought he must have heard something, but apparently111 not. The race went by the form-book all right."
I was trying to do sums in my head. I was just in the middle of working out the syndicate's losses, when old Heppenstall's voice came sort of faintly to me out of the distance. He had been pretty fatherly and debonair112 when ladling out the prizes for the other events, but now he had suddenly grown all pained and grieved. He peered sorrowfully at the multitude.
* * * * *
"With regard to the Girls' Egg and Spoon Race, which has just concluded," he said, "I have a painful duty to perform. Circumstances have arisen which it is impossible to ignore. It is not too much to say that I am stunned113."
He gave the populace about five seconds to wonder why he was stunned, then went on.
"Three years ago, as you are aware, I was compelled to expunge114 from the list of events at this annual festival the Fathers' Quarter-Mile, owing to reports coming to my ears of wagers115 taken and given on the result at the village inn and a strong suspicion that on at least one occasion the[Pg 181] race had actually been sold by the speediest runner. That unfortunate occurrence shook my faith in human nature, I admit—but still there was one event at least which I confidently expected to remain untainted by the miasma116 of professionalism. I allude117 to the Girls' Egg and Spoon Race. It seems, alas118, that I was too sanguine119."
"I will not weary you with the unpleasant details. I will merely say that before the race was run a stranger in our midst, the manservant of one of the guests at the Hall—I will not specify121 with more particularity—approached several of the competitors and presented each of them with five shillings on condition that they—er—finished. A belated sense of remorse122 has led him to confess to me what he did, but it is too late. The evil is accomplished123, and retribution must take its course. It is no time for half-measures. I must be firm. I rule that Sarah Mills, Jane Parker, Bessie Clay, and Rosie Jukes, the first four to pass the winning-post, have forfeited124 their amateur status and are disqualified, and this handsome work-bag, presented by Lord Wickhammersley, goes, in consequence, to Prudence Baxter. Prudence, step forward!"
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1
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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2
hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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3
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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4
waylaying
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| v.拦截，拦路( waylay的现在分词 ) | |
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5
decanting
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| n.滗析（手续）v.将（酒等）自瓶中倒入另一容器( decant的现在分词 ) | |
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6
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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7
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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8
amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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9
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
slated
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| 用石板瓦盖( slate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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12
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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13
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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14
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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15
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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16
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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17
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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18
risky
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| adj.有风险的，冒险的 | |
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19
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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20
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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21
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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22
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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23
capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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24
outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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25
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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26
opprobrious
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| adj.可耻的，辱骂的 | |
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27
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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28
sprint
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| n.短距离赛跑；vi. 奋力而跑，冲刺；vt.全速跑过 | |
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29
sprinter
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| n.短跑运动员，短距离全速奔跑者 | |
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30
snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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31
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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32
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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33
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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34
squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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35
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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36
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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37
pimpled
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| adj.有丘疹的，多粉刺的 | |
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38
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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39
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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40
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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41
stamina
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| n.体力；精力；耐力 | |
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42
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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43
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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44
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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45
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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46
blenched
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| v.（因惊吓而）退缩，惊悸( blench的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变白，（使）变苍白 | |
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47
hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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48
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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49
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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50
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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51
bribing
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| 贿赂 | |
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52
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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53
overdid
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去式 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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54
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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55
charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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56
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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57
toddle
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| v.（如小孩）蹒跚学步 | |
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58
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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59
bleating
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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60
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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61
mildew
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| n.发霉；v.（使）发霉 | |
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62
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
surfeited
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| v.吃得过多( surfeit的过去式和过去分词 )；由于过量而厌腻 | |
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64
coma
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| n.昏迷，昏迷状态 | |
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65
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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66
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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67
squeal
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| v.发出长而尖的声音；n.长而尖的声音 | |
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68
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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69
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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70
squeals
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| n.长而尖锐的叫声( squeal的名词复数 )v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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71
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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72
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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73
leopards
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| n.豹( leopard的名词复数 )；本性难移 | |
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74
squealing
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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75
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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76
lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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77
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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78
vim
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| n.精力，活力 | |
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79
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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80
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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81
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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82
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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83
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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84
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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85
ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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86
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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87
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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88
scaly
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| adj.鱼鳞状的；干燥粗糙的 | |
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89
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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90
seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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91
clove
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| n.丁香味 | |
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92
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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93
distrait
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| adj.心不在焉的 | |
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94
conserve
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| vt.保存，保护，节约，节省，守恒，不灭 | |
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95
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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96
squealed
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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98
virtuously
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| 合乎道德地，善良地 | |
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99
profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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100
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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101
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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102
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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103
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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104
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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105
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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106
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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107
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
nominee
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| n.被提名者；被任命者；被推荐者 | |
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109
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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110
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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111
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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112
debonair
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| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
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113
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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114
expunge
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| v.除去，删掉 | |
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115
wagers
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| n.赌注，用钱打赌( wager的名词复数 )v.在（某物）上赌钱，打赌( wager的第三人称单数 )；保证，担保 | |
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116
miasma
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| n.毒气；不良气氛 | |
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117
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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118
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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119
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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120
wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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121
specify
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| vt.指定，详细说明 | |
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122
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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123
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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124
forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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