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t。
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 proce