“What does he look like, sir?”
“How the hell do I know,” said Harvey. “Like a professor.”
The chauffeur regretfully abandoned his plans for an afternoon at the railings and departed, leaving Harvey and his guests to enjoy the strawberries, the champagne and the string of telegrams that were still arriving.
“You know if you win, the cup will be presented by the Queen,” said Nick Lloyd.
“You bet. It’ll be the crowning moment of my life to win the King George and Elizabeth Stakes and meet Her Majesty The Queen. If Rosalie wins, I’ll suggest my daughter marries Prince Charles—they’re about the same age.”
“I don’t think even you will be able to fix that, Harvey.”
“What’ll you do with the odd £81,000 prize money, Mr. Metcalfe?” asked Jamie Clark.
“Give it to some charity,” said Harvey, pleased with the impression the remark made on his guests.
“Very generous, Harvey. Typical of your reputation.” Nick Lloyd gave Michael Hogan a knowing look. Even if the others didn’t, they both knew what was typical of his reputation.
The chauffeur returned to report that there was no trace of a solitary professor anywhere in the champagne bar, balcony luncheon room or the paddock buffet, and that he’d been unable to gain access to the Members’ Enclosure.
“Naturally not,” said Harvey rather pompously. “I shall have to find him myself. Drink up and enjoy yourselves.”
Harvey rose and walked to the door with the chauffeur. Once he was out of earshot of his guests, he said: “Get your ass out of here and don’t give me any crap about not being able to find him or you can find something for yourself—another job.”
The chauffeur bolted. Harvey turned to his guests and smiled.
“I’m going to look at the runners and riders for the 2 o’clock.”
“He’s leaving the box now,” said James.
“What’s that you’re saying?” asked an authoritative voice he recognized. “Talking to yourself, James?”
James stared at the noble Lord Somerset, 6 ft. 1 in. and still able to stand his full height, an M.C. and a D.S.O. in the First World War. He still exuded enthusiastic energy although the lines on his face suggested that he had passed the age at which the Maker had fulfilled his contract.
“Oh hell. No, sir, I was just…em…coughing.”
“What do you fancy in the King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes?” asked the peer of the realm.
“Well, I have put £5 each way on Rosalie, sir.”
“He seems to have cut himself off,” said Stephen.
“Well, buzz him again,” said Jean-Pierre.
“What’s that noise, James? Have you taken to a hearing-aid or something?”
“No, sir. It’s…it’s…it’s a transistor radio.”
“Those things ought to be banned. Bloody invasion of privacy.”
“Absolutely right, sir.”
“What’s he playing at, Stephen?”
“I don’t know—I think something must have happened.”
“Oh my god, it’s Harvey heading straight for us. You go into the Members’ Enclosure, Stephen, and I’ll follow you. Take a deep breath and relax. He hasn’t seen us.”
Harvey marched up to the official blocking the entrance to the Members’ Enclosure.