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ed in a parallel world； spoke a parallel language； were a mass of instincts； lacked human perceptions of kindness or guilt； and allowed a merging on an untamed； untamable mysterious level of spirit。 The Great God Pan lived in racehorses。 One cut off his foot at one's peril。
On a more prosaic level I put the hoof back on the ground； undipped the mobile phone I wore on my belt and； consulting a small diary/notebook for the number； connected myself to a veterinary friend who worked as a surgeon in an equine hospital in Lambourn。
'Bill？' I said。 This is Sid Halley。'
'Go to sleep；' he said。
'Wake up。 It's six…fifty and I'm in Berkshire with the severed off…fore hoof of a two…year…old colt。'
'Jesus。' He woke up fast。
'I want you to look at it。 What do you advise？'
'How long has it been off？ Any chance of sewing it back on？'
'It's been off at least three hours； I'd say。 Probably more。 There's no sign of the achilles tendon。 It's contracted up inside the leg。 The amputation is through the fetlock joint itself。'
'One blow； like the others？'
I hesitated。 'I didn't see the others。'
'But something's worrying you？'
'I want you to look at it；' I said。
Bill Ruskin and I had worked on other； earlier puzzles； and got along together in a trusting undemanding friendship that remained unaltered by periods of non…contact。
'What shape is the colt in generally？'he asked。
'Quiet。 No visible pain。'
'Is the owner rich？'
'It looks like it。'
'See if he'll have the colt…and his foot； of course…shipped over here。'
'She；' I said。 'I'll ask her。'
Mrs Bracken gaped at me mesmerised when I relayed the suggestion； and said 'Yes' faintly。
Bill said； 'Find a sterile surgical dressing for the leg。 Wrap the foot in another dressing and a polythene bag and pack it in a bucket of ice cubes。 Is it clean？'
'Some early morning ramblers found it。'
He groaned。 'I'll send a horse ambulance；' he said。 'Where to？'
I explained where I was； and added； 'There's a Scots vet here that's urging to put the colt down at once。 Use honey…tongued diplomacy。'
'Put him on。'
I returned to where the colt still stood and； explaining who he would be talking to； handed my phone to the vet。 The Scot scowled。 Mrs Bracken said 'Anything； anything；' over and over again。 Bill talked。
'Very well；' the Scot said frostily； finally； 'but you do understand； don't you； Mrs Bracken； that the colt won't be able to race； even if they do succeed in reattaching his foot； which is very very doubtful。'
She said simply； 'I don't want to lose him。 It's worth a try。'
The Scot； to give him his due； set about enclosing the raw leg efficiently in a dressing from his surgical bag and in wrapping the foot in a businesslike bundle。 The row of men leaning on the fence watched with interest。 The masculine…looking woman holding the head…collar wiped a few tears from her weatherbeaten cheeks while crooning to her charge； and eventually Mrs Bracken and I returned to the house； which still rang with noise。 The ramblers； making the most of the drama； seemed to be rambling all over the ground floor and were to be seen assessing their chances of penetrating upstairs。 Mrs Bracken clutched her head in distraction and said； 'Please will everyone leave；' but without enough volume to be heard。
I begged one of the policemen； 'Shoo the lot out； can't you？' and finally most of the crowd left； the ebb revealing a large basically formal pale green and gold drawing…room inhabited by five or six humans； three dogs and a clutter of plastic cups engraving wet rings on ancient polished surfaces。 Mrs Bracken； like a somnambulist； drifted around picking up cups from one place only to put them down in another。 Ever tidy…minded； I couldn't stop myself twitching up a wastepaper basket and following her； taking the cups from her fingers and collecting them all together。
She looked at me vaguely。 She said； 'I paid a quarter of a million for that colt。'
'Is he insured？'
'No。 I don't insure my jewellery either。'
'Or your health？'
'No； of course not。'
She looked unseeingly round the room。 Five people now sat on easy chairs； offering no help or succour。
'Would someone make a cup of tea？' she asked。
No one moved。
She said to me； as if it explained everything； 'Esther doesn't start work until eight。'
'Mm；' I said。 'Well 。。。 er 。。。 who is everybody？'
'Goodness； yes。 Rude of me。 That's my husband。' Her gaze fell affectionately on an old bald man who looked as if he had no prehension of anything。 'He's deaf； the dear man。'
'I see。'
'And that's my aunt； who mostly lives here。'
The aunt was also old and proved unhelpful and selfish。
'Our tenants。' Mrs Bracken indicated a stolid couple。 'They live in part of the house。 And my nephew。'
Even her normal good manners couldn't keep the irritation from either her voice or her face at this last identification。 The nephew was a teenager with a loose mouth and an attitude problem。
None of this hopeless bunch looked like an acplice in a spite attack on a harmless animal； not even the unsatisfactory boy； who was staring at me intensely as if demanding to be； noticed： almost； I thought fleetingly； as if he wanted to tell me something by telepathy。 It was more than an interested inspection； but also held neither disapproval nor fear； as far as I could see。
I said to Mrs Bracken； 'If you tell me where the kitchen is； I'll make you some tea。'
'But you've only one hand。'
I reassured her； 'I can't climb Everest but I can sure make tea。'
A streak of humour began to banish the morning's shocks from her eyes。 'I'll e with you；' she said。
The kitchen； like the whole house； had been built on a grand scale for a cast of dozens。 Without difficulties we made tea in a pot and sat at the well…scrubbed old wooden central table to drink it from mugs。
'You're not what I expected；' she said。 'You're cosy。'
I liked her： couldn't help it。
She went on； 'You're not like my brother said。 I'm afraid I didn't explain that it is my brother who is out in the field with the vet。 It was he who said I should phone you。 He didn't say you were cosy； he said you were flint。 I should have introduced you to him； but you can see how things are 。。。 Anyway； I rely on him dreadfully。 He lives in the next village。 He came at once when I woke him。'
'Is he；' I asked neutrally； 'your nephew's father？'
'Goodness； no。 My nephew 。。。 Jonathan 。。。' She stopped； shaking her head。 'You don't want to hear about Jonathan。'
'Try me。'
'He's our sister's son。 Fifteen。 He got into trouble； expelled from school 。。。 on probation 。。。 his step…father can't stand him。 My sister was at her wits' end so I said he could e here for a bit。 It's not working out； though。 I can't get through to him。' She looked suddenly aghast。 'You don't think he had anything to do with the colt？'
'No； no。 What trouble did he get into？ Drugs？'
She sighed； shaking her head。 'He was with two other boys。 They stole a car and crashed it。 Jonathan was in the back seat。 The boy driving was also fifteen and broke his neck。 Paralysed。 Joy…riding； they called it。 Some joy！ Steali