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the hysterics： but though our chambermaid wobbled and wept and begged for repeated assurances he would never know she had seen him； she stayed at her post。 And she astonished us； shortly after； by pointing towards a group of passing people we'd never before linked with Filmer。
'That's him；' she said； gasping 'Oh my God。。。 that's him。。。 I'd know him anywhere。'
'Which one？' Millington said urgently。
'In the navy。。。 with the grey sort of hair。 Oh my God。。。 don't let him know。。。' Her voice rose with panic。
I could hear the beginnings of Millington's reassurances as I fairly sprinted out of the office and through to the open air； slowing there at once to the much slower speed of the crowd making its way from paddock to stands for the next race。 The navy suit with the silvery hair above it was in no hurry； going along with the press。 I followed him discreetly for the rest of the afternoon； and only once did he touch base with Filmer； and then as if accidentally； as between strangers。
The exchange looked as if navy…suit asked Filmer the time。 Filmer looked at his watch and spoke。 Navy…suit nodded and walked on。 Navy…suit was Filmer's man； all right； but was never to be seen to be that in public： just like me and Millington。
I followed navy…suit from the racecourse in the going…home traffic and telephoned from my car to Millington。
'He's driving a Jaguar；' I said； 'licence number A 576 FDD。 He spoke to Filmer。 He's our man。'
'Right。'
'How's the lady？' I asked。
'Who？ Oh； her。 I had to send Harrison all the way back to Newmarket with her。 She was half off her rocker again。 Have you still got our man in sight？'
'Yep。 '；
'I'll get back to you。'
Harrison was one of Millington's regular troops； an ex…policeman； heavy； avuncular； near to pensioned retirement。 I'd never spoken to him； but I knew him well by sight； as I knew all the others。 It had taken me quite a while to get used to belonging to a body of men who didn't know I was there； rather as if I were a ghost。
I was never noticeable。 I was twenty…nine； six foot tall； brown haired； brown eyed； twelve stone in weight with； as they say； no distinguishing features。 I was always part of the moving race crowd； looking at my race…card； wandering about； looking at horses； watching races； having a bet or two。 It was easy because there were always a great many other people around doing exactly the same thing。 I was a grazing sheep in a flock。 I changed my clothes and general appearance from day to day and never made acquaintances； and it was lonely quite often； but also fascinating。
I knew by sight all the jockeys and trainers and very many owners； because all one needed for that was eyes and race…cards； but also I knew a lot of their histories from long memory； as I'd spent much of my childhood and teens on racecourses； towed along by the elderly race…mad aunt who had brought me up。 Through her knowledge and via her witty tongue I had bee a veritable walking data bank； and then； at eighteen； after her death； I'd gone world…wandering for seven years。 When I returned； I no longer looked like the unmatured youth I'd been； and the eyes of the people who had known me vaguely as a child slid over me without recognition。
I returned to England finally because at twenty…five I'd e into inheritances from both my aunt and my father； and my trustees were wanting instructions。 I had been in touch with them from time to time； and they had despatched funds to far…flung outposts fairly often； but when I walked into the hushed book…lined law office of the senior partner of Cornborough； Cross and George； old Clement Cornborough greeted me with a frown and stayed sitting down behind his desk。
'You're not。。。 er。。。' he said； looking over my shoulder for the one he'd expected。
'Well。。。 yes； I am。 Tor Kelsey。'
'Good Lord。' He stood up slowly； leaning forward to extend a hand。 'But you've changed。 You。。。 er。。。'
'Taller； heavier and older；' I said； nodding。 Also suntanned； at that moment； from a spell in Mexico。
'I'd。。。 er。。。 pencilled in lunch；' he said doubtfully。
'That would be fine；' I said。
He took me to a similarly hushed restaurant full of other solicitors who nodded to him austerely。 Over roast beef he told me that I would never have to work for a living （which I knew） and in the same breath asked what I was going to do with my life； a question I couldn't answer。 I'd spent seven years learning how to live； which was different； but I'd had no formal training in anything。 I felt claustrophobic in offices and I was not academic。 I understood machines and was quick with my hands。 I had no overpowering ambitions。 I wasn't the entrepreneur my father had been； but nor would I squander the fortune he had left me。
'What have you been doing？' old Cornborough said； making conversation valiantly。 'You've been to some interesting places； haven't you？'
Travellers' tales were pretty boring； I thought。 It was always better to live it。 'I mostly worked with horses；' I said politely。 'Australia； South America； United States； anywhere。 Racehorses； polo ponies； a good deal in rodeos。 Once in a circus； '
'Good heavens。'
'It's not easy now； though； and getting harder； to work one's passage。 Too many countries won't allow it。 And I won't go back to it。 I've done enough。 Grown out of it。'
'So what next？'
'Don't know。' I shrugged。 'Look around。 I'm not getting in touch with my mother's people； so don't tell them I'm here。'
'If you say so。'
My mother had e from an impoverished hunting family who were scandalized when at twenty she married a sixty…five…year…old giant of a Yorkshireman with an empire in second…hand car auctions and no relatives in Burke's Peerage。 They'd said it was because he showered her with horses； but it always sounded to me as if she'd been truly attracted。 He at any rate was besotted with her； as his sister； my aunt； had often told me； and he'd seen no point in living after she was killed in a hunting accident； when I was two。 He'd lasted three years and died of cancer； and because my mother's family hadn't wanted me； my aunt Viv Kelsey had taken me over and made my young life a delight。
To aunt Viv； unmarried； I was the longed…for child she'd had no chance of bearing。 She must have been sixty when she took me； though I never thought of her as old。 She was always young inside； and I missed her dreadfully when she died。
Millington's voice said； 'The car you are following。。。 are you still following it？'
'Still in sight。'
'It's registered to a Derry Welfram。 Ever heard of him？'
'No。'
Millington still had connections in the police force and seemed to get useful puterized information effortlessly。
'His address is down as Parkway Mansions； Maida Vale； London；' he said。 'If you lose him； try there。'
'Right。'
Derry Welfram obligingly drove straight to Parkway Mansions and others of Millington's minions later made a positive identification。 Millington tried a photograph of him on each of the witnesses with the unreliable memories and； as he described to me afterwards； 'They both shit themselves with fear and stuttered they'd never seen the man； never； never。' But they'd been so effectively frightened； both of them； that Millington could get nothing out of them at all。
Millington told me to follow Derry Welfram if I saw him again at the races； to see who else he talked to； which I'd been doing for about a month on the day the navy…suit fell on its buttons。 Welfram had talked intensely to about ten people by then and proved he was prehensively a bearer of bad news； leaving behind him a trail of shocked； shivering； hollow…eyed stares at unwele realities。 And because I had an ingenious camera built into binoculars （and another that looked like a cigarette lighter） we had recognizable portraits of most of Welfram's shattered contacts； though so far identifications for less than half。 Millington's men were working on it。
Millington had e to the conclusion that Welfram was a frightener hired to shake out bad debts： a rent…a…thug in general； not solely Filmer's man。 I had seen him speak to Filmer only once since the first occasion； which didn't mean he hadn't done so more often。 There were usually race meetings at three of more different courses in England each day； and it was a toss…up； sometimes； to guess where either of the quarries would go。 Filmer； moreover； went racing less often than Welfram； two or three times a week at most。 Filmer had shares in a great many horses and usually went where they ran； and I checked their destinations every morning in the racing press。
The problem with Filmer was not what he did； but catching him doing it。 At first sight； second sight； third sight he did nothing wrong。 He bought racehorses； put them in training； went to watch them run； enjoyed all the pleasures of an owner。 It was only gradually； over the ten years since Filmer had appeared on the scene； that there had been eyebrows raised； frowns of disbelief； mouths pursed in puzzlement。
Filmer bought horses occasionally at auction through an agent or a trainer but chiefly acquired them by deals struck in private； a perfectly proper procedure。 Any owner was always at liberty to sell his horses to anyone else。 The surprising thing about some of Filmer's acquisitions was that no one would have expected the former owner to sell the horse at all。
I had been briefed about him by Millington during my first few weeks in the Service； but then only as someone to be generally aware of； not as a number one priority。
'He leans on people；' Millington said。 'We're sure of it； but we don't know how。 He's much too fly to do anything where we can see him。 Don't think you'll catch him handing out bunches of money for information； nothing crude like that。 Look for people who're nervous when he's near； right？'
'Right。'
I had spotted a few of those。 Both of the trainers who trained his horses treated him with caution； and most of the jockeys who rode them shook his hand with their fingertips。 The Press； who knew they wouldn't answer questions； hardly bothered to ask them。 A deferential decorative girlfriend jumped when he said jump； and the male panion frequently in attendance fairly scuttled。 Yet there was nothing visibly boorish about his general manner at the races。 He smiled at appropriate moments； nodded congratulations to other owners in the winners' enclosures and patted his horses when they pleased him。
He was in person forty…eight； heavy； about five foot ten in height。 Millington said the weight was mostly muscle； as Filmer spent time three days a week raising a sweat in a gym。 Above the muscle there was a well…shaped head； large flat ears and thick black hair flecked with grey。 I hadn't been near enough to see the colour of his eyes； but Millington had them down as greenish brown。
Rather to Millington's annoyance I refused to follow Filmer about much。 For one thing； in the end he would have been certain to have spotted me； and for another it wasn't necessary。 Filmer was a creature of habit； moving from car to lunch to bookmaker to grandstand to paddock at foreseeable intervals。 At each track he had a favourite place to watch the races from； a favourite vantage point overlooking the parade ring and a favourite bar where hedrank lager mostly and plied the girlfriend with vodka。 He rented a private box at two racecourses and was on the waiting list at several more； where his aim seemed to be seclusion rather than the lavish entertainment of friends。
He had been born on the Isle of Man； that tax…haven rock out of sight of England in the stormy Irish Sea； and had been brought up in a munity stuffed with millionaires fleeing the fleecing taxes of the mainland。 His father had been a wily fixer admired for fleecing the fled。 Young Julius Apollo Filmer （his real name） had learned well and outstripped his father in rich pickings until he'd left home for wider shores； and that was the point； Millington said gloomily； at which they had lost him。 Filmer had turned up on racecourses sixteen or so years later giving his occupation as 'pany director' and maintaining a total silence about his source of considerable ine。
During the run…up