"No mistake about him?" Phillips asked.
"That's the man," Fielden whispered. "I could swear to that expression of his anywhere. But what is he doing there? He doesn't seem to be particularly busy."
"He is getting well paid for his job, anyway," Phillips chuckled. "As it is not likely to last long he'll be gone in a few moments. Have you the right time about you? What do you make it? Five minutes past three by post office time? The result ought to be here at any moment. Ah, I thought so. Just keep your eye closely upon Chaffey."
In his excitement Phillips bent over and grasped his companion's arm. Fielden saw Chaffey suddenly pull himself up and moisten his hands. He touched his ragged cap as if in response to a distant call, then he proceeded to fling five baskets one on the top of the other and balance them on his head. With this pyramid thus arranged he walked slowly across the market and disappeared down one of the corridors, where he was lost to sight.
"What on earth does it mean?" Fielden asked.
"Oh, that's the signal," Phillips explained. "The result has just come into the office of Jolly & Co. on the private telephone wire from The Nook at Mirst Park. The supposed Mr. Jolly stands near the window with the telephone receiver to his ear ready to flash the signal across the street. Now you understand why the flex of the telephone is so long. Before the horse is past the post the man on the top of the house at Mirst Park sends the number, and Jolly & Co. signal it to Chaffey. Then Chaffey simply puts five or other number of baskets on his head, and the confederate in the Post Club has the result. Mind you, this could be done within five seconds of the race being settled. Now take this Sportsman and I'll eat my hat if the winner of the three o'clock race at Mirst Park isn't number five on the programme."
When the result was published Phillips proved to be correct.
CHAPTER XXXIV
NO. 5
