er Sovereign without spectators.

Returning with a blanched face to the seething crowd, and presently
to the Grand Stand, Vivie's mood altered from awe to anger. The
"bookies" were beside themselves with fury. She noted the more
frequent of the nouns and adjectives they applied to the dying woman
for having spoilt the Derby of 1913, but although she went to the
trouble, in framing her indictment of the Turf, of writing down
these phrases, my jury of matrons opposes itself to their appearance
here, though I am all for realism and completeness of statement.
After conversing briefly and in a lowered voice with such
Suffragettes as gathered round her, so that this one could carry the
news to town and that one his to communicate with Miss Davison's
relations, Vivie--recklessly calling herself to any police
questioner, "David Williams" and eliciting "Yes, sir, I have seen
you once or twice in the courts," reached once more the Grand Stand
with its knots of shocked, puzzled, indignant, cynical, consternated
men and women. Most of them spoke in low tones; but one--a blond Jew
of middle age--was raving in uncontrolled anger, careless of what he
said or of who heard him. He was short of stature with protruding
bloodshot eyes, an undulating nose, slightly prognathous muzzle and
full lips, and a harsh red moustache which enhanced the prognathism.
His silk hat tilted back showed a great bald forehead, in which
angry, bluish veins stood out like swollen earth worms. "Those
Suffragettes!" he was shouting or rather shrieking in a nasal whine,
"if I had _my_ way, I'd lay 'em out along the course and have 'em
---- by ----. The ----'s!"

The shocked auditory around him drew away. Vivie gathered he was
Mr. ---- well, perhaps I had better not give his name,[1] even
in a disguised form. He had had a chequered career in South
America--Mexico oil, Peruvian rubber, Buenos Aires railways, and a
corner in Argentine beef--but had become exceedingly rich, a fortune
perhaps of twenty millions. He had given five times more than any
other aspirant in benefactions to charities and to the party chest
of the dominant Party, but the authorities dared not reward him with
a baronetcy because of the stories of his early life which had to be
fought out in libel cases with Baxendale Strangeways and others. But
he had won through these libel cases, and now devoted his vast
wealth to improving our breed of horses by racing at Newmarket,
Epsom, Doncaster, Gatw