df.theedge-第66部分

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　stay　for　lunch。
　　He　stood　back　to　let　Daffodil　lead　the　way　out　of　the　far　door；　and　when　she　reached　there　she　paused　and　looked　back。
　　'The　poor　boy；'　she　said　again。　'Julius　Filmer's　a　beast。'
　　The　Vancouver　Jockey　Club　men　rose　and　made　courteous　noises　of　sympathy　in　my　direction；　said　they　would　hand　Filmer　on　to　the　police　with　a　report　of　the　assault；　said　we　would　no　doubt　be　needed　to　make　statements　later。　They　then　followed　Daffodil；　as　they　were　the　hosts　of　the　party。
　　When　they'd　gone；　the　Brigadier　switched　off　the　machine　that　had　recorded　every　word。
　　'Poor　boy；　my　foot；'　he　said　to　me。　'You　chose　to　let　him　hit　you。　I　saw　you。'
　　I　smile　a　little　ruefully；　acknowledging　his　perception。
　　'He　couldn't！'　Mercer　protested；　drawing　nearer。　'No　one　could　just　let　himself　be。。。　…'
　　'He　could　and　he　did。'　The　Brigadier　came　round　from　behind　the　desk。　'Quick　thinking。　Brilliant。'
　　'But　why？'　Mercer　said。
　　'To　tie　the　slippery　Mr　Filmer　in　tighter　knots。'　The　Brigadier　stood　in　front　of　me；　put　a　casual　hand　down　to　mine　and　pulled　me　to　my　feet。
　　'Did　you　truly？'　Mercer　said　to　me　in　disbelief。
　　'Mm。'　I　nodded　and　straightened　a　bit；　trying　not　to　wince。
　　'Don't　worry　about　him；'　the　Brigadier　said。　'He　used　to　ride　bucking　broncos；　and　God　knows　what　else。'
　　The　three　of　them　stood　as　in　a　triumvirate；　looking　at　me　in　my　uniform；　as　if　I'd　e　from　a　different　planet。
　　'I　sent　him　on　the　train；'　the　Brigadier　said；　'to　stop　Filmer　doing　whatever　he　was　planning。'　He　smiled　briefly。　'A　sort　of　match。。。　a　two…horse　race。'
　　'It　seems　to　have　been　neck　and　neck　now　and　then；'　Mercer　said。
　　The　Brigadier　considered　it。　'Maybe。　But　our　runner　had　the　edge。'
　　Mercer　Lorrimore　and　I　watched　the　races　from　a　smaller　room　next　to　the　large　one　where　the　reception　was　taking　place。　We　were　in　the　racecourse　President's　private　room；　to　which　he　could　retire　with　friends　if　he　wanted　to；　and　it　was　furnished　accordingly　in　extreme　fort　and　soft　turquoise　and　gold。
　　The　President　had　been　disappointed　but　understanding　that　Mercer　felt　he　couldn't　attend　the　lunch　party　so　soon　after　his　son's　death；　and　had　offered　this　room　instead。　Mercer　had　asked　if　I　might　join　him；　so　he　and　I　drank　the　President's　champagne　and　looked　down　from　his　high　window　to　the　track　far　below；　and　talked　about　Filmer；　mostly。
　　'I　liked　him；　you　know；'　Mercer　said；　wonderingly。
　　'He　can　be　charming。'
　　'Bill　Baudelaire　tried　to　warn　me　at　Winnipeg。'　he　said；　'but　I　wouldn't　listen。　I　really　thought　that　his　trial　had　been　a　travesty；　and　that　he　was　innocent。　He　told　me　about　it　himself。。。　he　said　he　didn't　bear　the　Jockey　Club　any　malice。'
　　I　smiled。　'Extreme　malice；'　I　said。　'He　threatened　them　to　their　faces　that　he　would　throw　any　available　spanner　into　their　international　works。　McLachlan　was　some　spanner。'
　　Mercer　sat　down　in　one　of　the　huge　armchairs。　I　stayed　standing　by　the　window。
　　'Why　was　Filmer　prosecuted；'　he　asked；　'if　there　was　such　a　poor　case？'
　　'There　was　a　cast…iron　case；'　I　said。　'Filmer　sent　a　particularly　vicious　frightener　to　intimidate　all　four　prosecution　witnesses；　and　the　cast　iron　became　splinters。　This　time　。。。　this　morning。。。　we　thought　we'd　stage　a　sort　of　preliminary　trial；　at　which　the　witness　couldn't　have　been　reached；　and　have　it　all　on　record　in　case　anyone　retracted　afterwards。'
　　He　looked　at　me　sceptically。　'Did　you　think　I　could　be　intimidated？　I　assure　you　I　can't。　Not　any　more。'
　　After　a　pause　I　said；　'You　have　Xanthe。　Ezra　Gideon　had　daughters　and　grandchildren。　One　of　the　witnesses　in　the　Paul　Shacklebury　case　backed　away　because　of　what　she　was　told　would　happen　to　her　sixteen…year…old　daughter　if　she　gave　evidence。'
　　'Dear　God；'　he　said；　dismayed。　'Surely　he'll　be　sent　to　prison。'
　　'He'll　be　warned　off；　anyhow；　and　that's　what　he　wants　least。　He　had　Paul　Shacklebury　killed　to　prevent　it。　I　think　we　will　have　got　rid　of　him　from　racing。　For　the　rest。。。　we'll　have　to　see　what　the　Canadian　police　and　VIA　Rail　can　do；　and　hope　they'll　find　McLachlan。'
　　Let　McLachlan　not　be　eaten　by　a　bear；　I　thought。　（And　he　hadn't　been：　he　was　picked　up　for　a　stealing　tools　from　a　railway　yard　in　Edmonton　a　week　later；　and　subsequently　convicted　with　Filmer　of　the　serious　ancient　offence　of　attempted　train…wrecking；　chiefly　on　the　evidence　of　a　temporary　crew　member　in　his　VIA　Rail　clothes。　VIA　put　me　on　their　personnel　list　retroactively；　and　shook　my　hand。　Filmer　was　imprisoned　despite　his　defence　that　he　had　not　given　specific　instructions　to　McLachlan　on　any　count　and　had　tried　to　stop　him　before　the　end。　It　was　proved　that　he　had　actively　recruited　a　violent　saboteur：　any　later　possible　change　of　mind　was　held　to　be　irrelevant。　Filmer　never　did　find　out　that　I　wasn't　a　waiter；　because　it　wasn't　a　question　his　lawyers　ever　thought　to　ask；　and　it　went　much　against　him　with　the　jury　that　he'd　violently　attacked　a　defenceless　rail　employee　without　provocation　in　front　of　many　witnesses　even　though　he　knew　of　the　broken　scapula。　The　Brigadier　kept　a　straight　face　throughout。　'It　worked　a　treat；'　he　said　afterwards。　'Wasn't　Daffodil　Quentin　a　trouper；　convincing　them　the　poor　boy　had　been　brutally　beaten　for　no　reason　except　that　he'd　saved　them　all　from　being　killed　in　their　beds？　Lovely　stuff。　It　made　nonsense　of　the　change…of…heart　defence。　They　couldn't　wait　to　find　Filmer　guilty　after　that。'　McLachlan　in　his　turn　swore　that　I'd　nearly　murdered　him；　out　on　the　track。　I　said　he'd　tripped　and　knocked　himself　out　on　the　rails。　McLachlan　could　produce　no　X…rays　and　wasn't　believed；　to　his　fury。　'Broken　bone　or　not；　that　waiter　can　fight　like　a　goddam　tiger；'　he　said。　'No　way　could　Filmer　beat　him　up。'　Filmer　however　had　done　so。　It　had　been　seen；　and　was　a　fact。'
　　On　the　Tuesday　of　the　Jockey　Club　Race　Train　Stakes　at　Exhibition　Park；　with　the　trial　still　months　ahead；　and　the　feel　of　Filmer's　fists　a　reality　not　a　memory；　the　racecourse　President　came　into　his　private　room　to　see　Mercer　and　me　and　to　show　us　that　if　we　drew　the　curtains　along　the　right…hand　side　wall；　we　could　see　into　the　reception　room。
　　'They　can't　see　into　here；'　he　said。　'It's　one…way　glass。'　He　pulled　strings　and　revealed　the　party。　'I　hear　the　meeting　went　well　this　morning　except　for　the　end。'　He　looked　at　me　questioningly。　'Mr　Lorrimore　and　Bill　Baudelaire　asked　that　you　be　treated　as　a　most　honoured　guest。。。　but　shouldn't　you　be　resting？'
　　'No　point；　sir；'　I　said；　'and　I　wouldn't　miss　the　great　race　for　anything。'
　　Through　the　window　one　could　fascinatingly　see　all　the　faces　grown　so　familiar　during　the　past　ten　days。　The　Unwins；　the　Redi…Hots；　the　Youngs。。。
　　'If　I　might　ask　you…？'　I　said。
　　'Ask　the　world；　according　to　Bill　Baudelaire　and　Brigadier　Catto。'
　　I　smiled。　'Not　the　world。　That　young　woman　over　there　in　the　grey　suit；　with　the　fair　hair　in　a　plait　and　a　worried　expression。'
　　'Nell　Richmond；'　Mercer　said。
　　'Would　you　mind　if　she　came　in　here　for　a　while？'
　　'Not　in　the　least；'　the　President　said；　and　within　minutes　could　be　seen　talking　to　her。　He　couldn't　have　told　her　who　to　expect　in　his　room；　though；　because　when　she　came　in　and　saw　me　she　was　surprised　and；　I　had　to　think；　joyful。
　　'You're　on　your　feet！　Daffodil　said　the　waiter　was　hurt　badly。'　Her　voice　died　away　and　she　swallowed。　'I　was　afraid。。。'
　　'That　we　wouldn't　get　to　Hawaii？'
　　'Oh。'　It　was　a　sound　somewhere　between　a　laugh　and　a　sob。　'I　don't　think　I　like　you。'
　　'Try　harder。'
　　'Well。。。'　She　opened　her　handbag　and　began　to　look　inside　it；　and　glanced　up　and　saw　all　the　people　next　door。　'How　great；'　she　said　to　Mercer。　'You're　both　with　us；　even　if　you're　not。'　She　produced　a　folded　piece　of　paper　and　gave　it　to　me。　'I　have　to　go　back　to　sort　out　the　lunch　places。'
　　I　didn't　want　her　to　go。　I　said；　'Nell。。。'　and　heard　it　sound　too　full　of　anxiety；　too　full　of　plain　physical　battering；　but　it　was　past　calling　back。
　　Her　face　changed。　The　games　died　away。
　　'Read　that　when　I've　gone；'　she　said。　'And　I'll　be　there　。。。　through　the　glass。'
　　She　went　out　of　the　President's　room　without　looking　back　and　soon　reappeared　among　the　others。　I　unfolded　the　paper　slowly；　not　wanting　it　to　be　bad　news；　and　found　it　was　a　telex。　It　said：
　　RICHMOND。　FOUR　SEASONS　HOTEL；　VANCOUVER。　CONFIRM　　　YOUR　　　TWO　　　WEEKS　　　VACATION　　　STARTING　IMMEDIATELY。　MERRY。　HAVE　A　GOOD　TIME。
　　I　closed　my　eyes。
　　'Is　that　despair？'　Mercer　said。
　　I　opened　my　eyes。　The　telex　still　read　the　same　way。　I　handed　it　to　him；　and　he　read　it　also。
　　'I　dare　say；'　he　said　ironically；　'that　Val　Catto　will　match　this。'
　　'If　he　doesn't；　I'll　resign。'
　　We　spent　the　afternoon　panionably　and　watched　the　preliminary　races　with　the　interest　of　devotees。　When　it　was　time　for　the　Jockey　Club　Race　Train　Stakes　Mercer　decided　that；　Sheridan　or　not；　he　would　go　down　to　see　Voting　Right　saddled；　as　he　could　go　and　return　by　express　elevator　to　our　eyrie　to　watch　the　race。
　　When　he'd　gone　and　the　room　next　door　had　mostly　emptied；　I　looked　down　on　the　flags　and　the　banners　and　the　streamers　and　balloons　and　the　razzamatazz　with　w