Phillips rose and threw his cigar in the fire.
"Come," he said. "It is time to start. You haven't much longer to wait."
CHAPTER XIX
THE EMPTY HOUSE
THERE was just enough moonlight for Phillips' purpose, but not enough to render his task dangerous. Fielden asked no questions, partly because he deemed it would be useless, and partly because he did not wish to spoil what appeared to have in it the making of a dramatic adventure. His spirits were rising, and he was looking forward keenly to something in the way of enterprise. He and Phillips had been in more than one tight place together, and he had every confidence in his companion.
They made their way along the main street in silence, and came presently to the deserted racecourse. There was very little evidence of the afternoon's sport, nothing but a few partially dismantled tents and booths, and the extraordinary remnants of reeking humanity that always haunt a race meeting.
They went across the heath, and by and by Phillips pulled up in front of the avenue to The Nook.
"This is the place," he said quietly.
"Oh, is it?" Fielden asked. "Perhaps you had better tell me before we go farther who lives here."
"That is precisely what we've come to find out," Phillips said coolly. "I've got a pretty shrewd notion, but that isn't good enough for me. I've told you that there's a gang of clever swindlers in England who have put their heads together to rob the betting ring of an enormous sum of money. Operations began last autumn, but the flat-racing was nearly finished, so that they did not make quite such a haul as they had anticipated. Still, they made enough to keep themselves in luxury all the winter and to find the necessary funds for carrying on the campaign in the spring. It is a big combine, and unless something is done to stop it, these people will make colossal fortunes. Mind you, one or two of the large bookmakers have a suspicion, but up to now they haven't been able to prove anything. Indeed, without egotism, I may say they would be powerless without me. I got some vague idea of the scheme three years ago from a man who is now dead. Then when racing began again this year I fancied I could see a trace of the same idea in this business. I knew I was right when I discovered that Copley was operating on a large scale. I lunched at the Post Club with a member who gave me an introduction to Rickerby, the financial agent. You remember him?"