5 Race Day

Chapter 5 Race Day The following Tuesday, Holmes and I journeyed again by train, this time to Winchester to see the race for the Wessex Cup. Colonel Ross met us outside the station, and we drove in his open carriage to the racecourse outside the town. His manner toward us was extremely cold. "I have seen nothing of my horse." "Are you sure you'd know him if you saw him?" asked Holmes. The colonel grew very red. "I've been racing horses for twenty years and have never been asked such a question!" he exploded. "A child would know Silver Blaze, with its white forehead and mottled left foreleg."

"What's the betting like?" "That's the strange part. You couldn't have got fifteen to one on Silver Blaze yesterday, but more and more money has been bet on the horse since then. Today, the odds are nearer three to one." Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Somebody knows something, that much is clear." We arrived at the racecourse and entered the special enclosure where wealthy and important people could watch the race. A sign on the wall showed six horses running, including Desborough and Silver Blaze. "We decided against running our other horse," said the colonel. "We've pinned all our hopes on

your assurance that—" He gave a start. "What? Silver Blaze is now the front runner, with odds of five to four against!" We watched the horses trotting to their starting positions. I counted them off. "All six horses are there," I said. "All six?" cried the colonel. "Then mine must be running. But I don't see it." "Your riders wear black and red, don't they, Colonel?" asked Holmes. He pointed out a rider wearing a black cap and red jacket mounted on a powerful black horse. "That's not Silver Blaze," shouted the colonel. "It doesn't have a white hair on its body. What's going on, Mr. Holmes?"

"We shall see," said Holmes with a calm smile. The race began, and we watched as they came round the curve. The six horses were so close together a carpet could have covered them, but halfway up the straight, Desborough broke clear. Before they reached us, however, the Mapleton horse tired and the colonel's horse took the lead. Its lead steadily increased and it passed the finishing post six horse lengths ahead of its nearest rival.

"I won anyhow," said a dazed colonel. "Now don't you think you've kept up your mystery long enough, Mr. Holmes?" "I shall explain everything, Colonel. But first let's go and take a look at the horse." We made our way to the winner's enclosure. The colonel approached the victorious horse with a puzzled frown. "Just wash his face and leg in spirit of wine and you'll find he's the same old Silver Blaze underneath," said Holmes. "Unbelievable!" gasped the colonel. "I found him in the hands of a faker. He disguised him, hoping to pass him off as a different horse, until I threatened to report him." "My dear sir, I'm so sorry for doubting you! You've done me a great service by recovering my horse. You'd do me an even greater one by finding John Straker's murderer." "I've already done so," said Holmes quietly. The colonel and I stared at him in amazement. "You've got him? Where is he?" "Right here." "Here? Where?"

"He's standing right behind you." The colonel whirled around. "I don't see him." Laughing, Sherlock Holmes stepped past the colonel and laid his hand on the glossy neck of Silver Blaze. "The horse?" the colonel and I cried out together.