The Case of the Racehorse Ringer (7 page)

“Sorry, Satan,” Sparrow said. “I haven’t got a biscuit for you this time.”

At the word “biscuit” the dog wagged its tail again. Ordering it to stay, Sparrow backed carefully away until he felt the gate behind him, then he turned and climbed over it. The dog watched him with a disappointed look on its face.

“Next time, eh?” said Sparrow, then scooted off.

Up on the hill, Wiggins and Gertie were about to return to the caravan when they saw Sparrow in the moonlight, climbing the gate.

“It’s OK,” said Gertie. “Here he comes.”

“Phew,” Wiggins replied, “just in time! I was starting to think something had happened to him. Wait a minute, though. Who’s that?”

He pointed to the house. In the lit bedroom window, a figure moved. Wiggins and Gertie couldn’t see who it was, but someone was looking out, watching Sparrow as he hurried towards the woods.

Wiggins listened very carefully as Sparrow told him everything about his day.

“Well done,” he said when Sparrow had finished. “You’ve given me plenty to think about.”

“But what does it all mean?” Gertie asked.

“Dunno yet. I wish I’d got my special chair and Mr Holmes’s old hat and pipe. I s’pose I’ll have to manage without ’em.”

“We need to know what Moriarty’s up to,” said Gertie.

“And why Fred got so upset when you sang those songs,” Wiggins added.

“And why he won’t let nobody else go near Silver Star and Blackie,” said Sparrow.

“Yeah, and a whole lot of other things as well,” agreed Wiggins.

“Most of all,” said Gertie, “we still don’t know who killed Tommie.”

“Or why. You gotta go back there, Sparrow, and carry on keeping your eyes peeled for anything that might give us a clue.”

Sparrow nodded and set off down the hill, dragging himself back to the stables. His legs felt so heavy that he could hardly put one foot in front of the other, and all he could think about was his bed. As he arrived back in the yard, he was far too tired to notice someone looking out of a bedroom window. But as he passed the loose boxes, he did notice a light seeping out under the closed door of Silver Star’s box. Someone was in there with the horse. Sparrow could hear low voices inside, but they were speaking so quietly he could not hear what was being said, or who was saying it. He crept closer to peep through the crack in the door, when it began to open. He just had time to hide around the corner before two people came out. One was Fred, carrying a lantern. The other was Hogg, wiping his hands on a piece of rag.

“It’ll be dry by morning,” Sparrow heard Hogg say. “Just keep everybody away from them. How’s the new lad?”

“You don’t have to fret about him,” Fred replied with a chuckle. “He don’t know nothin’, and I’m workin’ him so hard he don’t have time to think.”

“Good. Make sure you keep it that way.”

“I will. No problem.”

“Now, you’d better get back to your pit or you’ll be good for nothing in the morning. Go on – off with you.”

While the head lad made his way back upstairs, Sparrow had to wait where he was, giving Fred chance to fall asleep before he dared to follow. Then he crept back to his own bed and was dreaming even before his head hit the pillow.

Wiggins and Gertie made their way back to the caravan safely. All seemed quiet and peaceful now, and they were soon fast asleep on their bunks. After only a little while, however, Gertie was woken by a noise from outside. She sat up and peered through the window, then gently shook Wiggins’s shoulder.

“Wake up,” she whispered, putting a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. “There’s somebody outside.”

Wiggins blinked up at her. “You sure it ain’t another owl?” he mumbled sleepily.

“I ain’t never seen a owl carryin’ a bull’s-eye lantern,” she said.

Wiggins was awake in a flash. He looked through the window. Gertie was right, there was someone out there – and he or she was making their way towards the caravan. The door creaked open and the dark figure of a man appeared in the doorway. The beam from his bull’s-eye lantern swung around the inside of the caravan, and lit up Wiggins and Gertie. The man let out a yell, stepped back – and fell down the steps. Wiggins leapt up and charged through the door after him. The man was lying flat where he had fallen. His lantern lay on the ground beside him, its beam pointing up into the sky. Wiggins threw himself on top of him, pinning him down, while Gertie sat on his legs.

To their surprise, the man showed no signs of fighting them off. Instead, he raised his arms protectively in front of his face.

“Don’t hurt me,” he whimpered pitifully. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“What d’you want?” Wiggins demanded, trying to sound fierce and strong.

“I don’t mean no harm. I only want what’s mine.”

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Sneyd. Sam Sneyd.”

“Ha!” Gertie cried. “You’re Slippery Sam!”

The man turned pink. “I believe some people do call me that,” he said huffily.

“Hmm,” said Wiggins. “You might as well get up.”

He climbed off the man’s chest and nodded to Gertie to free his legs. Sneyd sat up, checking himself to make sure nothing was broken or damaged, then scrambled unsteadily to his feet. Gertie picked up his lantern and shone the light on him so they could see him properly. He was a short man, no taller than Wiggins, and just as wiry. He brushed himself down, then smoothed back his greasy black hair and ran a finger along his thin moustache.

“I s’pose you’ve come for your spyglasses, stopwatch and notebook,” Wiggins said in his best Sherlock Holmes manner.

“How d’you know…?” Sneyd began.

“They must be worth a lot of money,” Wiggins continued. “But not as much as you hoped to make betting on Silver Star.”

“Silver Star’s a dead cert,” said Sneyd. “But I need to be quite sure before I bet all I’ve got on him. If I do and he don’t win, I’ll have lost everything.”

“Well don’t bet, then,” said Gertie.

“I have to. It’s the only way. I got debts, see? I owe some bad people a lot of money.”

“What happens if you don’t pay ’em?” Wiggins asked.

“It could be very nasty,” replied Sneyd with a shiver. “They might even kill me.”

“Like somebody killed young Tommie, you mean?” said Wiggins sharply.

Sneyd paused for a moment. “I heard about that. Terrible.”

“What did you hear? What d’you know about it?”

Sneyd shook his head so hard, Wiggins thought it might fall off. Or at least break his neck.

“Nothing. I don’t know nothing about it. Honest.”

“What about my da?” Gertie asked. “D’you know who set him up?”

“No. No, I don’t. But I know he couldn’t have done it,” said Sneyd.

Wiggins and Gertie both leant forwards eagerly.

“How d’you know that?” Wiggins asked.

Sneyd ran his finger along his moustache again. “Because he was with me the night it happened.”

Wiggins turned to Gertie accusingly.

“I thought you said he was with you?” he cried.

Gertie looked sheepish. “Sure and he might have slipped out of the caravan while I was asleep,” she admitted.

“Without waking you?”

“He can move very quiet when he wants to,” she said.

“That’s true,” Sneyd agreed. “Quiet as a mouse. I’m sure he could walk on eggshells without breaking them.”

Wiggins thought for a moment, wondering what Mr Holmes would have said next. Eventually he turned back to Sneyd.

“So, Mr Sneyd. You say Patrick was with you that night?”

“Yes.”

“That’s very convenient for you, ain’t it?”

“How d’you mean, convenient?” asked the man nervously.

“Well, if Patrick was with you, that gives you an alibi as well, don’t it?”

“I … I … I don’t need an alibi,” Sneyd stammered. “Nobody says I did it.”

“But you was in this wood the night Tommie was murdered?” Wiggins persisted.

“I was, yes.”

“And you didn’t see nobody else?”

“I might have done. But I can’t be sure. I didn’t see Tommie, either.”

“So you say, Mr Sneyd. So you say…”

“Yes, I do say.”

“Thank you,” Wiggins said, taking hold of the lapels of his jacket like a lawyer interrogating a witness in court. “I’ve only got one more question for now.”

“What’s that?”

“What was Tommie doing in the woods? Where was he going?”

Sneyd looked confused. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Gertie stepped in.

“I dare say he was comin’ to see us.”

“Did he usually come at that time of night?” Wiggins asked her.

“No,” she said. “He usually come earlier in the evenin’, while it was still light.”

“So why was he coming then?” he pressed. “That’s another thing we gotta find out. And when we do, we’ll know who killed him.”

Sparrow was so weary the next morning that the other lads had to tip him out of bed before he could wake up. He lay on the hard floor, trying to collect his thoughts, wondering why every bone and muscle in his body ached. Ginger and Jim had to stuff his legs into his breeches, then pull them up. Alfie and Charlie stuck his feet into his boots and all four of them hauled him upright and helped him to climb unsteadily down the stairs.

“Come on, Sparrow,” Ginger urged. “You better not let Hogg see you like this. He’ll have you runnin’ round the yard till you drop.”

It was barely light in the yard, but Fred had already washed himself in the big stone water trough. He took one look at Sparrow’s bleary eyes and laughed.

“What’s this, Birdie? Can’t wake up? Soon put that right. Come here.”

He grabbed Sparrow by the neck, shoved his head into the water and held it under. It was bitterly cold and Sparrow struggled to escape, desperately holding his breath. Just as he thought he was going to drown, Fred finally let go. Sparrow surfaced, gasping for air.

“There you are, Birdie.” Fred guffawed. “You awake now?”

Sparrow nodded, speechless.

“Say thank you, then, like a good lad.”

“Thank you,” Sparrow spluttered.

“Thank you, Fred,” corrected the head lad.

“Thank you, Fred,” Sparrow repeated.

“That’s more like it.” Fred clapped his hands loudly. “Right, let’s get these boxes opened up. Give the hosses some air.”

The lads moved quickly along the row of boxes. As they opened the stable doors, the horses stuck their heads out, snorting a welcome to the day. To Sparrow’s surprise, when he opened Silver Star’s door it was Blackie’s face that appeared. He turned to find Fred looking at him.

“Why is Blackie in Star’s box?” he asked.

Fred made an angry gesture. “That stupid Hogg,” he said. “He must have put ’em back wrong last night.”

“Hogg?”

“Yeah. We thought Star might have a bit of a strain coming on,” Fred explained, “so we took both of ’em out to give ’em a rub down. Can’t be too careful with the big race so close.”

“Last night?”

“After you lot had turned in. Can’t you smell the liniment?”

Sparrow sniffed. He had already noticed a powerful medical smell.

“Pooh,” he said. “I wondered what the pong was.”

“Horse liniment. You’ll soon get used to that, workin’ in a stables. We might even give
you
a rub down with some – ease your aches and pains,” said Fred with a malicious smirk. “So, Birdie, better open up next door and see if Star’s in there.”

Sure enough, when they opened Blackie’s door the horse that appeared had the familiar white star on its nose. Sparrow reached out to stroke it, but Fred grabbed his arm.

“Don’t do that,” he said fiercely. “He don’t like having his face touched. Listen, don’t say nothin’ about this to nobody. Old Hoggy wouldn’t want anybody to know he’d been careless with Star, right?”

“Right.”

“Come on then, let’s get the bridles and saddles from the tack room. Then you can start muckin’ out while the rest of us ride ’em out to the gallops.”

In the woods, Wiggins was startled from his sleep by a deafening cacophony. It sounded as though every bird in the world was singing its heart out to greet the day.

“What the dickens is that all about?” he asked.

“Sure and that’s the dawn chorus.” Gertie laughed. “All the little birds wakin’ up and shoutin’, ‘Good mornin’, everybody, I’m still here.’”

“Do they have to make so much noise about it?” moaned Slippery Sam, who had stayed at the caravan overnight so that he could see for himself the racehorses working on the gallops.

The three of them shared the last of the bread and cheese that the kind Mrs Gorman had given them before they left London. Then they picked up the binoculars, stopwatch and notebook from the cupboard and made their way to the edge of the woods. There, they concealed themselves among the bushes, making sure they could still see all the way to the gallops. They did not have to wait long before the string of horses appeared. Fred was at the front, riding Silver Star and leading Blackie on a long rein. The other lads followed on their horses. Major Lee and Hogg rode alongside them and took up their positions.

The three spies watched from the bushes as the horses were put through their morning exercise routine, warming up gradually until at last they were ready to start galloping flat out. Sam leant forwards eagerly and raised the binoculars to his eyes. This was what he had come for.