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Authors: Peter Lovesey
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opportunities like this slip by.’
Nor I, thought Cribb. He had not gone to so much trouble merely for a glass of beer. ‘I was doing my job, no more. It was simply a matter of exercising the rules.’
‘That may be so,’ said Devlin, ‘but ’twould have been easier to have held your tongue. The sport could do with more of your kind, mister—men of principle, that take their duties seriously. Incidentally, you’re not wanted for the high jump, or anything, are you?’
‘Lord, no.’ Cribb shook his head decisively and transferred the official rosette slickly into his pocket. ‘We tend to specialise in one event, you know.’ He smiled. ‘The rules get more complicated all the time.’
‘Sure, and don’t you think I know that? It’s taken me a year and more to master the art of turning in a pesky little seven-foot circle.’
What an opening! Cribb took a sip of beer and casually said, ‘It’s an art your friend Mr Malone doesn’t appear to have mastered yet.’
Devlin returned a sharp look. ‘Malone? Malone’s no friend of mine.’
‘Indeed?’ said Cribb. ‘I apologise for the error.’ As Devlin showed no sign of wanting to enlarge on his statement, the sergeant went on. ‘I had assumed you were constantly competing together. In England, the principal hammer-throwers comprise a very—if you’ll pardon the expression— small circle.’
The reference made no impression on Devlin. He stared absently into his beer.
‘And then again,’ said Cribb, determined not to drop the subject, ‘I should have thought you would have got to know each other tolerably well on the voyage from America. I presume you were all on the same Cunarder.’
‘Sure,’ said Devlin, ‘but Malone was travelling on his own ticket like a gentleman. The rest of us were steerage. The first time I spoke to him was after we had docked at Southampton.’ He emphasised his words in a way clearly intended to remove any question of his involvement with Malone.
But if that line of inquiry was closed, another was now open. ‘He is somewhat detached from the other members of the team, then?’ said Cribb.
‘That’s about it,’ said Devlin, relieved that the point was taken at last.
‘He isn’t quartered with the rest of you, I dare say?’
Devlin shook his head. ‘He’s taken a suite in some flash hotel in Piccadilly—the Alcazar. The rest of us are dos-sing down in something not much better than a common lodging-house here in West Brompton. It’s convenient for Lillie Bridge, but there the convenience ends.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Cribb.
‘Ah, we wouldn’t really want to be in a hotel. We’re not accustomed to it. Shanahan and I are at college, you see, and Creed works in a druggist’s store. We’re all dependent on the club for our upkeep here.’
‘Not so Malone?’ said Cribb.
‘Not so Malone.’
‘He is a man of private means, then?’
‘I think you could say that.’
‘I follow you now,’ said Cribb, as if Devlin had been struggling all afternoon to make himself clear. ‘If a man is a passable athlete and can pay his way, the club will allow him to wear its colours. Ah well, it may seem unjust that a man can buy himself a place on an international team, but after all, the same thing happens in every other sphere of human activity, Mr Devlin, and I daresay there are less wholesome things to be bought with money than athletic club vests. The exercise Mr Malone is getting must be most beneficial. Perhaps he will blossom into a champion by the time you all return. He’s got the physical capacity, wouldn’t you say?’
‘He’s a big fellow, I’ll grant you,’ Devlin conceded, ‘but he’ll need to learn the rudiments of turning in the circle before anyone can call him a hammer-thrower.’
‘That was evident this afternoon,’ Cribb agreed. ‘But surely he will improve with practice? I cannot believe that a man so enthusiastic about his athletics as to cross the ocean for
Nor I, thought Cribb. He had not gone to so much trouble merely for a glass of beer. ‘I was doing my job, no more. It was simply a matter of exercising the rules.’
‘That may be so,’ said Devlin, ‘but ’twould have been easier to have held your tongue. The sport could do with more of your kind, mister—men of principle, that take their duties seriously. Incidentally, you’re not wanted for the high jump, or anything, are you?’
‘Lord, no.’ Cribb shook his head decisively and transferred the official rosette slickly into his pocket. ‘We tend to specialise in one event, you know.’ He smiled. ‘The rules get more complicated all the time.’
‘Sure, and don’t you think I know that? It’s taken me a year and more to master the art of turning in a pesky little seven-foot circle.’
What an opening! Cribb took a sip of beer and casually said, ‘It’s an art your friend Mr Malone doesn’t appear to have mastered yet.’
Devlin returned a sharp look. ‘Malone? Malone’s no friend of mine.’
‘Indeed?’ said Cribb. ‘I apologise for the error.’ As Devlin showed no sign of wanting to enlarge on his statement, the sergeant went on. ‘I had assumed you were constantly competing together. In England, the principal hammer-throwers comprise a very—if you’ll pardon the expression— small circle.’
The reference made no impression on Devlin. He stared absently into his beer.
‘And then again,’ said Cribb, determined not to drop the subject, ‘I should have thought you would have got to know each other tolerably well on the voyage from America. I presume you were all on the same Cunarder.’
‘Sure,’ said Devlin, ‘but Malone was travelling on his own ticket like a gentleman. The rest of us were steerage. The first time I spoke to him was after we had docked at Southampton.’ He emphasised his words in a way clearly intended to remove any question of his involvement with Malone.
But if that line of inquiry was closed, another was now open. ‘He is somewhat detached from the other members of the team, then?’ said Cribb.
‘That’s about it,’ said Devlin, relieved that the point was taken at last.
‘He isn’t quartered with the rest of you, I dare say?’
Devlin shook his head. ‘He’s taken a suite in some flash hotel in Piccadilly—the Alcazar. The rest of us are dos-sing down in something not much better than a common lodging-house here in West Brompton. It’s convenient for Lillie Bridge, but there the convenience ends.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Cribb.
‘Ah, we wouldn’t really want to be in a hotel. We’re not accustomed to it. Shanahan and I are at college, you see, and Creed works in a druggist’s store. We’re all dependent on the club for our upkeep here.’
‘Not so Malone?’ said Cribb.
‘Not so Malone.’
‘He is a man of private means, then?’
‘I think you could say that.’
‘I follow you now,’ said Cribb, as if Devlin had been struggling all afternoon to make himself clear. ‘If a man is a passable athlete and can pay his way, the club will allow him to wear its colours. Ah well, it may seem unjust that a man can buy himself a place on an international team, but after all, the same thing happens in every other sphere of human activity, Mr Devlin, and I daresay there are less wholesome things to be bought with money than athletic club vests. The exercise Mr Malone is getting must be most beneficial. Perhaps he will blossom into a champion by the time you all return. He’s got the physical capacity, wouldn’t you say?’
‘He’s a big fellow, I’ll grant you,’ Devlin conceded, ‘but he’ll need to learn the rudiments of turning in the circle before anyone can call him a hammer-thrower.’
‘That was evident this afternoon,’ Cribb agreed. ‘But surely he will improve with practice? I cannot believe that a man so enthusiastic about his athletics as to cross the ocean for
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