Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Every Tuesday Handicap with a horse like Plying Fifty- Five. He had won greater races than tliat with far worse animals. "Done!" he said. They were sitting in the living-room at the house. Stella led the way outside and called Jebson. "Jebson," she said when the man came up, "I have just decided to enter Flying Fifty-Five for the Nine-Furlong Handicap." Jebson Sneered. " He persuaded you, I suppose?" he said, indicating Bill. "That's right." said Bill. "I did." "Then you're a fool," Jebson snapped. "The horse hasn't a chance." Bill faced him evenly. ' What makes you say that, Jebson?" he asked, dangerously quiet. "You know what time the horse has been making. You know that he has a better chance than any horse running. You also know from the racing stables that he's got a faster pace than any previous horse in the race. Or don't you?" Jebson tried to bluster. BOY'S CINEMA clenched, but Stella put her hand on his arm and stopped hmi. "Jebson, I am getHng tired of this argument.' she said. "Bill Smith is riding Flying Fifty-Five, and that's uiy la.st word on the subject. If you don't like it, you can leave." Jebson's eyes flamed. Then his mouth set in a hard line ■' Very well," he said. "I'll leave. Good- bye." And he turned abruptly and walked away. Bill wasn't sorry. Jebson and he had never got on well together. During the days that followed, Bill worked hard with Flying Fifty-Five, and evei-y time out the horse got better and better. He had learnt to control his temper, and constant exercise with the other horses made him begin to like galloping flat out. He was slowly being trained to racing. Meantime, strange things were happen- ing elsewhere. The police had found the body of the tramp in the wood, and a "Miss Stella, don't hsien to this fool," he said. "He doesn't koow what he's talk- ing about. I say the horse can't win." "Jebson" Stella responded, "why didn't you tell me you had timed Flymg Fifty- Five during gallops?" Jebson swallowed hard and tried again. "It isn't that the horse can't move along," he said. "He can, and I'm the first to admit it. But he's a rogue. He's likely to start playing the fool halfway towards the winning post. And then where are you?" " But if he didn't play the fool," Bill cut in, " he'd be likely to win, wouldn't he?" "'Well—perhaps," Jebson admitted grudg- ingly. "That's fine," said Bill. "I'll see that he behaves himself." Jebson stared at him in amazement, then turned to Stella. "You're going to let him ride in tlie race?" he said. "Of course," Stella replied. "It's impossible." Jebson spoke nastily. " Why, you know nothing about the fellow. He'll probably lose the race for you. He's probably in the pay of some other stable." Bill took a pace forward, his fists " You are suspended from ail racecourses belonging to the association for a period of twelve months ! " search of the pockets had told them that the dead man must be Bill Urquhart. They got into touch with Bill's father, and learnt that Bill had disappeared. That seemed to settle it. Mr. Urquhart was heartbroken. He had missed his son more and more since Bill had gone away, and had constantly re- gretted his hasty action. And now, he thought, Bill was dead! He brooded on it for a whole day, then realised that he was allovvfing his grief to get him down. He must find something to enable him to pull himself together again. He must start thinking of other things. Then he remembered Gregory. He was in his office at the time, and instantly reached out for the telephone. "Gregory, I have something very impor- tant to say to you," he said. "You'd better come round at once." "I'll be there in five minutes," Gregory told him joyfully. He thought that Urqu- hart had something really big for him this time, and that he would be able to clean up a huge packet of money. But Urquhart's face wasn't friendly. It" was deeply creased with worry. JO "Gregory," he said, as scon as Gregory came in. "I expect you have heard that my son is dead." ■ 1 did read something about it in the pn,pcrs," Gregory answei-cd easily. "He'd been murdered or someihing, hadn't he?" Urquhart stood up and pointed at Gregory with a quivcrint: finger. "That cheque you hold is no longer of any u.sc to .you," he said. "You can't dis- grace a dead man. So that ends our arrangement. And durinn; the next few months you re going to have to watch your step, Gregory, because I'm going to devote myself to breaking you, cvcii if it costs me all I've got." Gregory backed away, beginning to look scared. " Now, see here, Urquhart " he began. Urquhart cut him short. "Be quiet," he snapped. "You did all the talking the last time we met. Now it's my turn. Do. you know wlnat I'm going to do to you, Gregory? I'm going to buy and run up the price every time you want to buy. And I'm going to unload as hard as I can every time you want to sell. I'm going to drive you out of business, and I'm not going to let up on you until you're ruined." Gregory v/ent white. He knew that Urquhart could do all he threatened. He was a wealthy man. "There's no need to be vindictive, old man," Gregory said, and pulled out his pocket-book "I'll give you the cheque back, and " "You didn't have any mercy on me, Gregory," Urquhart snapped, "and you can't expect me to have any on you. Get out!" Gregory hesitated, wondering if there was any way of making the old man change his mind. Then he realised that it would be hopeless. The old man was too an.^ry. "Don't be too sure you're going to get me easily," he said, and left the office. The moment he had gone, Urquhart pressed down the switch of his dictagi-aph and spoke to his secretary. "Get someone to prepare me a list of all the securities held by Jacques Gregory." he barked. The battle was on! EXPOSED! JACQUES GREGORY found within the next few days that Urquhart was keeping his word. Every operation he tried on the Stock Exchange was blocked. Urquhart had an uncanny way of finding November 4th, 1939.