THE DEAD CERT

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 192, 16 August 1939, Page 19

THE DEAD CERT

—By RALTON BARNARD

SHORT STORY—

U VERY day on my way to the club I passed him at the corner of the street, where he stood selling papers. His name lie told me was Mayne. I -took an interest in the poor devil because he was an ex-soldier and had lost an arm in the war. From time to time I was able to help him in little ways. When his wife contracted pneumonia in the spring I arranged for her to -<i>end a month with one of the cottagers at my sister's place in Sussex. Mayne was dashed grateful. He said he wished he could do something for me in return. He mentioned it so often that it got on my nerves «. bit. He knew I was a keen ra-cing man and a fairly heavy backer. One morning he greeted me with a broad grin on hie pinched face. Ad a good tip give me for 1 ei, colonel, he said, in his husky voice. He always spoke aa though he had a chronic cold. "Tom Xod<lv. for the freejlfty. Got it from the wife's bruvver— im wot works in the racin' stable at Xoomarket. The 'ole stable's on it, 'e ses."

W hen I looked at the mid-day special I found that Tom Noddy was scratched. ' Speet they're keepin' it back for a race." Mayne said the next day. 'It 11 win nex' time out, you mark mv words, colonel." I spent the week-end at my sister's place. On my return to town iny man told me that someone named Mayne had telephoned. "What did he want?" "Ask'ed me to tell you, sir, that Tom Noddy's running in the two-tliirty today. He said you were to be sure not to miss it, sir." Right. Alderson. Ring through to my bookie." . But Tom Noddy didn't win the twothirty. He wasn't even in the first three. Several times Mayne gave me tips from the Newmarket stable, hut thev seldom managed to get first past the poet. It worried Mayne when his brother-in-law'* tips failed to come off. "Pore way of showin' me gratitood to make you lose money," he remarked one day. Eventually it became a joke between us. Whenever his brother-in-law sent any special information from the Newmarket stable I took it as a tip to leave the animal alone. I f d a deuced bad run of luck that season. Lost a tidy packet, much more than I could afford. I was desperately anxioua to get a bit of it hack before the season closed. "Well, Mayne," I said to -him one morning, "what's thehors6 for me not to back to-morrow ?" "They say Broomstick's got a good : chance in the big race, colonel." [ "Another of Bert's Newmarket secrets?" I laughed. He shook lii* head. "I got this from a chap wot reely knows. 'E's bin backin' this 'orse reg'ler for weeks. Sez 'e 'opes to make a pile on 'im ter-morrcr. Knowin' as 'ow you was keen on Torchlljrht I arsrt this, bloke wot 'e thought of 'is chances. 'Ain't got an earfly!' 'e said."

Next morning while I wm shaving' I heard the telephone. A moment later it rang again. "Why doesn't Alderson answer the damn thing," I thought. It rang a third time. Cuming Alderson I strode across to my study, and picked up the receiver. "Hullo! Hullo!" "Is that Colonel Priestley?" asked a faint, husky voice. "Yes. Who is it?" "Mayne," came the voice. "Mayne, the man you buys yter racin' papers from." "Well, what is it, Mayne? And for heaven's sake, speak up. I can hardly hear yon" "Don't back Torchlight, Colonel, nor Broomstick, either, he whispered. "They won't be in the first 'free." Falcon's the 'orse to back, Colonel. It's a dead cert!" "Don't tell me this is another of Bert's special stable secrets?" "No, Colonel. This time I knows for rture. Back Falcon, an' you won't regret it. It's a cert I'm telling yer. I know. . . ." The last words were eo indistinct I could scarcely hear them. "Where did you get this information from, Mayne?" There was no reply. Either he had hung up his receiver, or had been cut off. At that moment my man came into the room. "Didn't you hear the telephone, Aiderson ?" "No, sir." The damn thing rang three times!" "Sorry, sir. I was in the basement cleaning your shoes. Difficult to hear the bell downstairs, sir." While I was eating my breakfast 1 glanced at the racing news to see what the tipsters had to say about Falcon's chances. It appeared that the horse was a doubtful starter. In spite of Mayne's certainty I had no intention of backing I the attimal. I'd been bitten too often ; before, to take any notice of his telephone information. On the course I found that Falcon was running after all. Broomstick had become a hot favourite, but I still fancied Torchlight, eo I put a pony on the animal. Walking across the enclosure a few minutes later I saw Mayne standing outside the railings. "What on earth's he doing here?" I thought. I'd never known him go to a race meeting before. I crossed over to the railings to have a word with him, but when I reached the spot where he'd been standing I couldn't see him anywhere. "Must have got swallowed up in the crowd." I strolled back to the paddock still wondering what had really brought Mayne here. I fancied I could hear again hi® husky voice over the telephone "Falcon's the 'orse to back, Colonel." The voice was so insistent that a few minutes before the off, I hurried across to my bookie and put a ponv on Falcon. * After I'd done so I called myself all the damn fool names I could think of. Might just as well chuck the money down' the drain I told myself. Yet, somehow, I felt I had to obey Mayne s insistent, husky voice. Through my glasses I watched the horses at the tape. I was anxious to see how my fancy, Torchlight, got away Falcon, I noticed, was nervy. It needed all the jockey's coaxing to steady the jumpy animal. There was a sudden roar from tne crowd. "They're off!" Torchlight wm the first to get away, quickly followed by the favourite Broomstick. These two kept the pace well, leading by several lengths. Neck by neck they tore along, with the rest of the field coming up behind them in a bunch. Halfway round the course Broomstick's pace began to flag. Im-

mediately a thousand voices yelled. "The favourite's heaten! Torchlight's leading! TorchlightH win!" It was. then that I noticed a gray horse, ridden by a jockey in green and gold, break through the re*t of the field, and gain on Torchlight. There were cries of "Falcon! Come on Falcon!"' Down the course they sped, the horses' hoofs scarcely seeming to touch the ground, their jockeys almost 011 the animals' necks, urging their mounts on for all they were worth. Suddenly a Yorkshire terrier rushed on to the course straight in front of Torchlight, yapping and barking as it ran. With quivering nostrils, the terrified horse pranced and reared away from the yapping terrier, almost throwing the jockey from the stirrups. The crowd held its breath, horrified at what had happened. That second, when the prancing animal danced with terror, seemed like a century. The rest of the field gained rapidly. Then, like a grey streak. Falcon shot past Torchlight. winning the race bv several lengths, and enriching me to the tune of over a thousand pounds. "Good old Mayne!"' I thought. "One of his tips has come up at last." When I arrived back at my rooms I that evening, my man told me that a person named Mavne had called. "What did he want?" I asked. "The person was a woman." Alderson said. "She was in great distress, sir. She asked me to tell you that her husband was killed yesterday. . . ." "Yesterday? Impossible, Alderson!" "That's what the person said, sir," insisted Alderson. "But Mayne telephoned to me himself this morning. It wa« he I spoke to when tou didn't hear the telephone bell." "I can only repeat what the person told me. sir." I took a taxi and called to see Mrs. Mayne. She told me that Mayne was crossing Piccadilly on his way home, when a motor bus knocked liini down. Tll an unconscious condition he was taken to St. George's Hospital, where he died a few hours later. "And you say this happened last nifrht, Mrs. Mayne?" I asked, puzzled. She stared at me blankly, wiping the corner of her eye with her dirty apron. "Why, yes. sir. I was with 'im when 'e breathed 'is last." When I got hack to my rooms T rang up the telephone exchange and asked if they could tell me where that call ■had come from this morning. But I was told that no record was kept of incoming calls.