Her heart moved a beat quicker as she picked out the blue, white and gold that marked Bonnie Chevalier’s rider. The starters danced round in a colourful welter as they were coaxed to their order. But she had only eyes for one. She gave a sigh of relief as she noted that he had drawn an inside place.

The score or so of colours shifted again with a sudden plunge. They were off. A muffled roar came to her ears, growing in intensity as the race drew towards her. Bonnie Chevalier had shot to the front with a cloud of rivals pressing him hard. Her hands tightened on the glasses. The field began to space out. She lowered her glasses, which she found difficulty in keeping steady, and leaned forward in tense eagerness. One of the leaders stumbled and went down, with lashing hoofs and writhing body. There was a little confusion, and she uttered an exclamation of dismay, as the favourite stealing out of the tangle began to draw alongside Bonnie Chevalier.