df.theedge-第27部分

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　　At　the　end　of　the　third　car；　just　past　George　Burley's　office；　he　stopped；　because　someone　was　ing　out　from　the　station　to　meet　him：　a　gaunt　man　in　a　padded　short　coat　with　a　fur　collar；　with　grey　hair　blowing　in　disarray　in　the　wind。
　　They　met　between　George's　window　and　the　open　door　at　the　end　of　the　car　and　although　at　first　they　looked　moderately　at　peace　with　each　other；　the　encounter　deteriorated　rapidly。
　　I　risked　them　seeing　me　so　as　to　try　to　hear；　but　in　fact　by　the　time　I　could　hear　them　they　were　shouting；　which　meant　I　could　listen　through　the　doorway　without　seeing　them　or　being　seen。
　　Filmer　was　yelling　furiously；　'I　said　before　Vancouver。'
　　The　gaunt　man　with　a　snarl　in　his　Canadian　voice　said；　'You　said　before　Winnipeg；　and　I've　done　it　and　I　want　my　money。'
　　'Cooee'　trilled　Daffodil；　teetering　towards　them　in　chinchillas　and　high…heeled　boots。　'Are　we　going　to　see　Laurentide　Ice？'
　　
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　Ten
　　
　　Blast　her；　I　thought　intensely。　Triple　bloody　shit；　and　several　other　words　to　that　effect。
　　I　watched　through　George's　window　as　Filmer　made　great　efforts　to　go　towards　her　with　a　smile；　drawing　attention　away　from　the　gaunt…faced　man；　who　returned　to　the　station。
　　Before　Winnipeg；　before　Vancouver。　Julius　Apollo　had　mixed　them　up　yet　again。　'You　said　before　Winnipeg；　and　I've　done　it。　I　want　my　money。'　Heavy　words；　full　of　threat。
　　What　before　Winnipeg？　What　had　he　done？
　　What　indeed。
　　It　couldn't　have　been　the　Lorrimores'　car；　I　thought。　Filmer　had　shown　no　interest　and　no　tension；　had　been　obviously　uninvolved。　But　then　he　would　have　been　calm；　I　supposed；　if　he　hadn't　been　expecting　anything　to　happen　except　before　Vancouver。　He　hadn't　been　expecting　the　Lorrimores'　car　to　be　uncoupled　before　either　city；　of　that　I　was　certain。　He　had　instead　been　cultivating　his　acquaintanceship　with　Mercer；　a　game　plan　that　would　have　e　to　an　abrupt　end　if　the　Lorrimores　had　deserted　the　trip；　which　they　would　have　done　at　once　if　the　Canadian　had　ploughed　into　their　home…from…home。
　　If　not　the　Lorrimore's　car；　what　else　had　happened？　What　had　happened　before　Winnipeg　that　Filmer　had　intended　to　happen　before　Vancouver？　In　what　way　had　the　gaunt　man　already　earned　his　money？
　　Anyone's　guess；　I　thought。
　　He　could　have　robbed　someone；　bribed　a　stable　lad；　nobbled　a　horse。。。
　　Nobbled　a　horse　that　was　going　to　run　at　Winnipeg；　instead　of　one　running　at　Vancouver？
　　From　the　fury　in　their　voices；　the　mistake　had　been　devastating。
　　Only　Flokati　and　Upper　Gumtree　were　due　to　run　at　Winnipeg。。。　Laurentide　Ice　was　running　at　Vancouver　against　Voting　Right　and　Sparrowgrass。。。。　Could　Filmer　have　been　so　stupid　as　to　get　the　horses'　names　wrong　in　addition　to　the　cities？　No；　he　couldn't。
　　Impasse。　Yet。。。　gaunt…face　had　done　something。
　　Sighing；　I　watched　the　Youngs　walk　past　the　window　en　route；　I　supposed；　to　the　horse　car。　Soon　after；　the　Unwins　followed。　I　would　have　liked　to　have　checked　at　once　on　the　state　of　the　horses；　but　I　supposed　if　there　were　something　wrong　with　any　of　them　I　would　hear　soon　enough。
　　I　wished　I'd　been　able　to　take　a　photograph　of　gaunt…face；　but　I'd　been　more　keen　to　listen。
　　If　he'd　done　something　to　or　around　the　horses；　I　thought；　then　he　had　to　have　travelled　with　us　on　the　train。　He　hadn't　just　met　us　in　Thunder　Bay。　If　he'd　been　on　the　train　and　had　walked　with　the　other　racegoers　towards　the　station；　Filmer　could　have　seen　him　through　the　window　。。。　and　just　the　sight　of　him　had　caused　the　tensing　of　the　neck　muscles。。。　and　if　Filmer　hadn't　yet　paid　him　for　whatever。。。　then　he　would　e　back　to　the　train。。。
　　I　left　George's　office　and　went　two　doors　along　to　my　roomette　to　dig　my　telescopic…lens　binoculars…camera　out　of　Tommy's　holdall；　and　I　sat　and　waited　by　the　window　for　gaunt…face's　return。
　　What　happened　instead　was　that　after　a　while　Filmer　and　Daffodil　appeared　in　my　view；　making　a　diagonal　course　towards　the　station　buildings；　and　pretty　soon　afterwards；　acpanied　by　a　lot　of　bell…ringing　and　warning　hooters；　a　huge　bright　yellow　diesel　engine　came　grinding　and　groaning　past　my　window　followed　by　long　corrugated　silver　coaches　as　the　whole　of　the　regular　Canadian　rolled　up　the　track　next　to　the　race　train　and　stopped　precisely　alongside。
　　Instead　of　a　nice　clear　photographic　view　of　the　station；　I　now　faced　the　black　uninformative　window　of　someone　else's　roomette。
　　Frustration　and　damnation；　I　thought。　I　tucked　the　binoculars　into　the　holdall　again　and　without　any　sensible　plans　wandered　back　towards　the　dining　car。　If　I　went　on　like　this；　I　would　fulfil　the　gloomiest　fears　of　Bill　Baudelaire；　the　Brigadier　and；　above　all；　John　Millington。　'I　told　you　we　should　have　sent　an　ex…policeman。。。'　I　could　hear　his　voice　in　my　ear。
　　It　occurred　to　me；　when　I　reached　Julius　Apollo's　door；　that　the　Canadian　would　be　standing　where　it　was　for　the　whole　of　the　twenty…five　minutes　of　its　daily　scheduled　stop。　For　twenty…five　minutes。。。　say　twenty…two　by　now　。。。　Filmer　would　stay　over　in　the　station。　He　would　not　walk　round　either　end　of　the　lengthy　Canadian　to　return　to　his　room。
　　Would　he？
　　No；　he　would　not。　Why　should　he？　He　had　only　just　gone　over　there。　I　had　twenty　minutes　to　see　what　I　could　do　about　his　bination　locks。
　　If　I'd　paused　for　more　thought　I　perhaps　wouldn't　have　had　the　nerve；　but　I　simply　opened　his　door；　checked　up　and　down　the　corridor　for　observers　（none）　and　went　inside；　shutting　myself　in。
　　The　black　briefcase　was　still　on　the　floor　at　the　back　of　the　hanging　space；　under　the　suits。　I　pulled　it　out；　sat　on　one　of　the　armchairs；　and　with　a　feeling　of　unreality　started　on　the　right…hand　lock。　If　anyone　should　e　in；　I　thought　confusedly。。。　if　the　sleeping…car　attendant　for　instance　came　in。。。　whatever　excuse　could　I　possibly　find？
　　None　at　all。
　　The　right…hand　bination　wheels　were　set　at　one…three…seven。　I　methodically　went　on　from　there；　one…three…eight；　one…three…nine；　one…four…zero；　trying　the　latch　after　each　number　change。
　　My　heart　hammered　and　I　felt　breathless。　I　was　used　to　long…distance　safety　in　my　work；　and　in　the　past　to　many　physical　dangers；　but　never　to　this　sort　of　risk。
　　One…four…one；　one…four…two；　one…four…three。。。。　I　tried　the　latch　over　and　over　and　looked　at　my　watch。　Only　two　minutes　had　gone。　It　felt　like　a　lifetime。　One…four…four；　one…four…five。。。。　There　were　a　thousand　possible　binations。。。　one…four…six；　one…four…seven。。。　in　twenty　minutes　I　could　perhaps　try　a　hundred　and　fifty　numbers。　。。。　I　had　done　this　process　before；　once；　but　not　under　pressure；　when　Aunt　Viv　had　set　a　bination　on　a　new　suitcase　and　then　forgotten　it。。。　one…four…eight；　one…four…nine。。。　my　face　sweating；　my　fingers　slipping　on　the　tiny　wheels　from　haste。。。　one…five…zero；　one…five…one。。。
　　With　a　snap　the　latch　flew　open。
　　It　was　incredible。　I　could　hardly　believe　it。　I　had　barely　started。　All　I　needed　now　was　double　the　luck。
　　The　left…hand　bination　numbers　stood　at　seven…three…eight。　I　tried　the　latch。　Nothing。
　　With　just　a　hope　that　both　locks　opened　to　the　same　sesame；　I　turned　the　wheels　to　one…five…one　and　tried　it。　Nothing。　Not　so　easy。　I　tried　reversing　it　to　five…one…five。　Nothing。　I　tried　parable　numbers；　one…two…one；　two…one…two；　one…three…one；　three…one…three；　one…four…one；　four…one…four。。。　six。。。　seven。。。　eight。。。　nine。。。　three　zeros。
　　Zilch。
　　My　nerve　deserted　me。　I　rolled　the　left…hand　wheels　back　to　seven…three…eight　and　with　the　latch　closed　again　set　the　right…hand　lock　to　one…three…seven。　I　polished　the　latches　a　bit　with　my　shirtsleeve；　then　I　put　the　briefcase　back　exactly　as　I'd　found　it　and　took　my　leaf…trembling　self　along　to　the　dining　car；　already　regretting；　before　I　got　there；　that　I　hadn't　stayed　until　the　Canadian　left；　knowing　that　I'd　wasted　some　of　the　best　and　perhaps　the　only　chance　I　would　get　of　seeing　what　Filmer　had　brought　with　him　on　the　train。
　　Perhaps　if　I'd　tried　one…one…five；　or　five…five…one。。。　or　five…one…one；　or　five…five…five。。。
　　Nell　was　sitting　alone　at　a　table　in　the　dining　car　working　on　her　interminable　lists　（those　usually　clipped　to　the　clipboard）　and　I　sat　down　opposite　her　feeling　ashamed　of　myself。
　　She　glanced　up。　'Hello；'　she　said。
　　'Hi。'
　　She　considered　me。　'You　look　hot。　Been　running？'
　　I'd　been　indulging　in　good　heart　exercise　while　sitting　still。　I　didn't　think　I　would　confess。
　　'Sort　of；'　I　said。　'How's　things？'
　　She　glanced　sideways　with　disgust　at　the　Canadian。
　　'I　was　just　about　to　go　over　to　the　station　when　that　arrived。'
　　That；　as　if　taking　the　hint；　began　quietly　to　roll；　and　within　twenty　seconds；　we　again　had　a　clear　view　of　the　station。　Most　of　the　train's　passengers；　including　Filmer　and　Daffodil；　immediately　started　across　the　tracks　to　reboard。　Among　them；　aiming　for　the　racegoers'　carriages；　was　gaunt…face。
　　God　in　heaven；　I　thought。　I　forgot　about　him。　I　forgot　about　photographing　him。　My　wits　were　scattered。
　　'What's　the　matter？'　Nell　said；　watching　my　face。
　　'I've　earned　a　D　minus。　A　double　D　minus。'
　　'You　probably　expect　too　much　of　yourself；'　she　said　dispassionately。　'No　one's　perfect。'
　　'There　are　degrees　of　imperfection。'
　　'How　big　is　the　catastrophe？'
　　I　thought　it　over　more　coolly。　Gaunt…face　was　on　the　train；　and　I　might　have　another　opportunity。　I　could　undo　one　of　the　latches　of　Filmer's　briefcase　and；　given　time；　I　might　do　the　other。　Correction：　given　nerve；　I　might　do　the　other。
　　'OK；'　I　said；　'let's　say　C　minus；　could　do　better。　Still　not　good。'　Millington　would　have　done　better。
　　Zak　and　Emil　arrived　together　at　that　point；　Emil　ready　to　set　the　tables　for　lunch；　Zak　in　theatrical　exasperation　demanding　to　know　if　the　actors　were　to　put　on　the　next　scene　before　the　meal　as　originally　planned；　and　if　not；　when？
　　Nell　looked　at　her　watch　and　briefly　thought。　'Couldn't　you　postpone　it　until　cocktail　time　this　evening？'
　　'We're　supposed　to　do　the　following　scene　then；'　he　objected。
　　'Well。。。　couldn't　you　run　them　both　together？'
　　He　rather　grumpily　agreed　and　went　away　saying　they　would　have　to　rehearse。　Nell　smiled　sweetly　at　his　depart