FIGES'S SPOOF 



they settled down at Southampton. He had the con- 

 fidence of the stewards of various meetings over in 

 France for many years. He had his pecuHarities, and 

 above all hated criticism; although I had been such 

 an old friend he cut me dead one day because I hap- 

 pened to say that there had been a straggling start, 

 or words to that effect. However, the grievance I am 

 sure was not a real one. Dick Figes came from Salis- 

 bury, where his father kept an hotel. He knew every- 

 one in the racing world when he was quite young, and 

 was assistant to that great starter, Tom MacGeorge, 

 from whom he learnt the art of flag starting. The 

 business was no sinecure in France, I can tell you, for 

 a Parisian racing crowd can be very ugly when the 

 horses do not get aw^ay as they wish them. Cries of 

 " Voleur ! " are common, also whistling, which denotes 

 hissing, and I have seen glass bottles thrown. Then, 

 of course, there have been real riots. 



Figes would get some convivial souls together on 

 occasions at his flat. He was fond of practical jokes, 

 and once he met a friend of his in the hall, saying he 

 was just going to dress for dinner, as Lord and Lady 

 So-and-so were coming. The poor chap who had been 

 invited to dinner rushed off and donned his best " soup 

 and fish," returning turned out most immaculately — 

 a blazing diamond stud — only to find Figes and I 

 playing billiards in our shirt sleeves and no lord 

 knows who ! The good old Wiltshire custom of 

 putting half a tumblerful of whisky with less of soda 

 came off too now and then, but I knew the " moon- 

 raker " county habit, so much in vogue in farmhouses 

 in the bacon country. 



Of course, the Chatham Hotel in the Rue Daunou 

 has been a club to me for more years than I care to 

 remember. That wonderful little man, " Johnny " 



149 



