df.theedge-第31部分

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　　What？　What　insurance　swindle？
　　I　glance　involuntarily　at　Daffodil；　but　if　there　had　been　a　flicker　of　her　eyelids；　I　had　missed　it。
　　Donna　in　confusion　said　she　didn't　know　what　insurance　swindle。　Angelica　had　just　mentioned　that　Steve　was　mixed　up　in　an　insurance　swindle；　and　she　was　afraid　that　was　why　he　had　missed　the　train。　Donna　hadn't　liked　to　probe　any　further。
　　Sheridan　Lorrimore；　saying　loudly　that　Angelica　had　been　a　bitch；　made　a　lunging　grab　at　the　pistol　sitting　prominently　in　a　holster　on　the　Mountie's　hip。　The　Mountie；　feeling　the　tug；　turned　fast　and　put　his　hand　down　on　Sheridan's　wrist。　It　was　a　movement　in　a　way　as　dextrous　as　John　Millington　on　a　good　day；　speaking　of　razor…sharp　reactions；　more　like　an　athlete　than　an　actor。
　　'That　gun's　mine；　sir；'　he　said；　lifting　Sheridan's　wrist　six　inches　sideways　and　releasing　it。　'And；　everybody；　it's　not　loaded。'
　　There　was　a　general　laugh　Sheridan；　universally　unpopular　and　having　made　a　boorish　fool　of　himself　yet　again；　looked　predictably　furious。　His　mother；　I　noticed；　had　turned　her　head　away。　Mercer　was　shaking　his。
　　The　Mountie；　unperturbed；　said　he　would　be　proceeding　vigorously　with　the　enquiries　into　both　Angelica's　and　Ricky's　deaths　and　perhaps　he　would　have　news　for　everyone　in　Winnipeg。　He　and　Zak　went　away　together；　and　Donna　drifted　around　from　table　to　table　for　a　while　telling　everyone　that　poor　Angelica　had　really　been　very　sweet；　not　a　murderess；　and　she；　Donna；　was　dreadfully　upset　at　the　suggestion。　She　wrung　out　a　real　tear　or　two。　She　was　undoubtedly　an　effective　actress。
　　'What　do　you　care？'　Sheridan　asked　her　rudely。　'You　only　met　her　yesterday　morning　and　she　was　dead　before　dinner。'
　　Donna　looked　at　him　uncertainly。　He'd　sounded　as　if　he　really　believed　in　Angelica's　death
　　'Er。。。'　she　said；　'some　people　you　know　at　once。'　She　moved　on　gently　and　presently　disappeared　with　disconsolate…looking　shoulders　down　the　corridor　beside　the　kitchen。　Sheridan　muttered　under　his　breath　several　times；　making　the　people　he　was　sitting　with　unfortable。
　　Emil　and　his　crew；　including　me；　immediately　began　setting　the　tables　round　the　passengers　for　dinner；　and　were　soon　serving　warm　goat's　cheese　and　radicchio　salads　followed　by　circles　of　rare　Chateaubriand　with　snow　peas　and　matchstick　carrots　and　finally　rich　orange　sorbets　smothered　in　fluffy　whipped　cream　and　nuts。　Most　of　the　passengers　persevered　to　the　end　and　looked　as　though　it　were　no　torture。
　　My　suggestion　to　Angus；　while　we　were　dishwashing　after　the　battle；　that　maybe　his　food　could　have　been　injected　somehow　with　a　substance　that　even　now　could　be　working　away　to　the　detriment　of　everyone's　health　was　received　by　him　with　frosty　amusement。　Absolutely　impossible；　he　assured　me。　I　had　surely　noticed　that　nearly　all　the　ingredients　had　e　on　to　the　train　fresh。　He　was　cooking　this　food；　not　bringing　it　in　pre…frozen　packs。
　　I　assured　him　truthfully　that　I　had　been　impressed　by　his　skill　and　speed；　and　I　thought　his　results　marvellous。
　　'You　actors；'　he　said　more　indulgently；　'will　think　of　any　impossible　thing　for　a　plot。'
　　Everyone　got　off　the　train　at　Winnipeg；　one　thousand；　four　hundred　and　thirteen　miles　along　the　rails　from　Toronto。
　　Two　large　motor　horse…boxes　were　waiting　for　the　horses；　which　were　unloaded　down　and　loaded　up　ramps。　The　grooms　and　Leslie　Brown　led　the　horses　across　from　train　to　van　and　saw　them　installed　and　then；　carrying　holdalls；　themselves　trouped　on　to　a　bus　which　followed　the　horse…boxes　away　towards　the　racetrack。
　　A　row　of　buses　waited　outside　the　station　to　take　the　racegoers　away　to　a　variety　of　outlying　motels；　and　a　long　new　coach　with　darkly　tinted　windows　was　set　aside　for　the　owners。　A　few　of　the　owners；　like　the　Lorrimores　and　Daffodil　and　Filmer；　had　arranged　their　own　transport　separately　in　the　shape　of　chauffeur…driven　limousines；　their　chauffeurs　ing　over　to　the　train　to　carry　their　bags。
　　The　crew；　after　everyone　else　had　left；　tidied　away；　into　secure　lockers　every　movable　piece　of　equipment　and　goods；　and　then　joined　the　actors　in　the　last　waiting　bus。　The　Mountie；　I　was　interested　to　see；　was　among　us；　tall　and　imposing　even　with　his　scarlet　and　brass　buttons　tucked　away　in　his　bag。
　　George　came　last；　carrying　an　attache　case　of　papers　and　looking　over　his　shoulder　at　the　train　as　if　wondering　if　he'd　forgotten　anything。　He　sat　in　the　seat　across　the　aisle　from　me　and　said　the　cars　would　be　backed　into　a　siding　for　two　days；　the　engine　would　be　removed　and　used　elsewhere；　and　there　would　be　a　security　guard　on　duty。　In　the　siding；　the　carriages　would　be　unheated　and　unlit　and　would　e　to　life　again　only　about　an　hour　before　we　left　on　the　day　after　tomorrow。　We'd　been　able　to　keep　the　same　crew　from　coast　to　coast；　he　said；　only　because　of　the　two　rest　breaks　along　the　way。
　　The　owners　and　some　of　the　actors　were　staying　in　the　Westin　Hotel　which　had；　Nell　had　told　everyone　during　dinner；　a　ballroom　and　fort　and　an　indoor　pool　on　the　roof。　There　was　a　breakfast　room　set　aside　for　the　train　party　where　a　piece　of　the　mystery　would　unravel　each　morning。　Apart　from　that；　everyone　was　on　their　own：　there　were　good　shops；　good　restaurants　and　good　racing。　Transport　had　been　arranged　to　and　from　the　racecourse。　We　would　all　e　back　to　reboard　the　train　after　the　Jockey　Club　Race　Train　Stakes　on　Wednesday；　and　cocktails　and　dinner　would　be　served　as　soon　as　we'd　rolled　out　of　the　station。　The　party；　in　good　humour；　applauded。
　　I　had　decided　not　to　stay　in　the　same　hotel　as　any　of　the　groups　of　owners；　actors；　racegoers　or　crew；　and　asked　Nell　if　she　knew　of　anywhere　else。　A　tall　order；　it　seemed。
　　'We've　put　people　almost　everywhere；'　she　said　doubtfully；　'but　only　a　few　actors　will　be　at　the　Holiday　Inn　。。。　why　don't　you　try　there？　Although　actually。。。　there　is　one　place　we　haven't　booked　anyone　into；　and　that's　the　Sheraton。　But　it's　like　the　Westin…expensive。'
　　'Never　mind；　I'll　find　somewhere；'　I　said；　and　when　the　crew　bus；　after　a　short　drive；　stopped　and　disgorged　its　passengers；　I　took　my　grip　and　vanished　on　foot　and；　after　asking　directions；　made　a　homing　line　to　where　no　one　else　was　staying。
　　In　my　buttoned…up　grey　VIA　raincoat；　I　was　unexceptional　to　the　receptionists　of　the　Sheraton：　the　only　problem；　they　said；　was　that　they　were　full。　It　was　late　in　the　evening。　The　whole　city　was　full。
　　'An　annexe？'　I　suggested。
　　Two　of　them　shook　their　heads　and　consulted　with　each　other　in　low　voices。　Although　they　had　no　single　rooms　left；　they　said　finally；　they　had　had　a　late　cancellation　of　a　suite。　They　looked　doubtful。　I　wouldn't　be　interested　in　that；　they　supposed。
　　'Yes；　I　would；'　I　said　and　gave　them　my　American　Express　card　with　alacrity。　So　Tommy　the　waiter　carefully　hung　up　his　yellow　waistcoat　with　its　white　lining　and　ordered　some　wine　from　room　service　and　in　a　while　after　a　long　easing　shower　slept　for　eight　solid　hours　and　didn't　dream　about　Filmer。
　　In　the　morning；　I　telephoned　Mrs　Baudelaire　and　listened　again　to　the　almost　girlish　voice　on　the　wire。
　　'Messages　for　the　invisible　man；'　she　said　cheerfully。　'Er　。。。　are　you　still　invisible？'
　　'Mostly；　yes；　I　think。'
　　'Bill　says　Val　Catto　would　like　to　know　if　you　are　still　invisible　to　the　quarry。　Does　that　make　sense　to　you？'
　　'It　makes　sense；　and　the　answer　is　yes。'
　　'They're　both　anxious。'
　　'And　not　alone；'　I　said。　'Will　you　tell　them　the　quarry　has　an　ally　on　the　train；　travelling　I　think　with　the　racegoers。　I've　seen　him　once　and　will　try　to　photograph　him。'
　　'Goodness！'
　　'Also　will　you　ask　them　whether　certain　numbers；　which　I'll　tell　you；　have　any　significance　in　the　quarry's　life。'
　　'Intriguing；'　she　said。　'Fire　away。'
　　'Well。。。　three　numbers　I　don't　know。　Three　question　marks；　say。　Then　one…five…one。　''Three　question　marks；　then　one…five…one。　Right？'
　　'Right。　I　know　it's　not　his　car's　number　plate；　or　not　the　car　he　usually　travels　in；　but　ask　if　it　fits　his　birthday　in　any　way；　or　his　phone　number；　or　anything　at　all　they　can　think　of。　I　want　to　know　what　the　first　three　digits　are。'
　　'I'll　ask　Bill　right　away；　when　I've　finished　talking　to　you。　He　gave　me　some　answers　to　give　you　about　your　questions　yesterday　evening。'
　　'Great。'
　　'The　answers　are　that　Mr　and　Mrs　Young　who　own　Sparrowgrass　are　frequent　and　wele　visitors　to　England　and　are　entertained　by　the　Jockey　Club　at　many　race　meetings。　They　were　friends　of　Ezra　Gideon。　Val　Catto　doesn't　know　if　they　know　that　Ezra　Gideon　sold　two　horses　to　Mr　J。　A。　Filmer。　Does　that　make　sense？'
　　'Yes；'　I　said。
　　'I'm　glad　you　understand　what　I'm　talking　about。　How　about　this　one；　then？'　She　paused　for　breath。　'Sheridan　Lorrimore　was　sent　down…expelled…from　Cambridge　University　last　May；　amid　some　sort　of　hushed…up　scandal。　Mercer　Lorrimore　was　over　in　England　at　that　time；　and　stayed　and　went　racing　at　Newmarket　in　July；　but　the　Jockey　Club　found　him　grimmer　than　his　usual　self　and　understood　it　was　something　to　do　with　his　son；　although　he　didn't　say　what。　Val　Catto　is　seeing　what　he　can　find　out　from　Cambridge。'
　　'That's　fine；'　I　said。
　　'Sheridan　Lorrimore！'　she　said；　sounding　shocked。　'I　hope　it's　not　true。'
　　'Brace　yourself；'　I　said　dryly。
　　'Oh　dear。'
　　'How　well　do　you　know　him？'　I　asked。
　　'Hardly　at　all。　But　it　does　no　good；　does　it；　for　one　of　our　golden　families　to　hit　the　tabloids。'
　　I　loved　the　expression；　and　remembered　she'd　owned　a　magazine。
　　'It　demeans　the　whole　country；'　she　went　one。　'I　just　hope　whatever　it　was　will　stay　hushed　up。'
　　'Whatever　it　was？'
　　'Yes；'　she　said　firmly。　'For　his　family's　sake。　For　his　mother's　sake。　I　know　Bambi　Lorrimore。　She's　a　proud　woman。　She　doesn't　deserve　to　be　disgraced　by　her　son。'
　　I　wasn't　so　sure　about　that：　didn't　know　to　what　extent　she　was　responsible　for　his　behaviour。　But　perhaps　not　much。　Perhaps　no　one　deserved　a　son　like　Sheridan。　Perhaps　people　like　Sheridan　were　born　that　way；　as　if　without　arms。
　　'Are　you　still　there？'　Mrs　Baudelaire　asked。
　　'I　sure　am。'
　　'Bill　says　the　Lorrimores'　private　car　got　detached　from　the　train　on　Sunday　evening。　Is　that　really　t