df.theedge-第10节

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　　Every　possible　extra　luxury　would　be　available　if　requested　in　advance；　and　in　addition；　for　entertainment　along　the　way；　an　intriguing　mystery　would　be　enacted　on　board　and　at　the　stop…overs；　which　passengers　would　be　invited　to　solve。
　　I　winced　a　shade　at　that　last　piece　of　information：　keeping　eyes　on　Filmer　would　be　hard　enough　anyhow　without　all　sorts　of　imaginary　mayhem　going　on　around　him。　He　himself　was　mystery　enough。
　　Special　races；　I　read；　had　been　introduced　into　the　regular　programmes　at　Woodbine　racecourse；　Toronto；　at　Assiniboia　Downs；　Winnipeg；　and　at　Exhibition　Park；　Vancouver。　The　races　had　been　framed　to　be　ultra…attractive　to　the　paying　public；　with　magnificent　prize　money　to　please　the　owners。　The　owners　of　the　horses　and　indeed　all　the　train　passengers　would　be　given　VIP　treatment　at　all　the　racecourses；　including　lunch　with　the　presidents。
　　It　wasn't　to　be　expected　that　owners　would　want　to　run　the　horses　on　the　train　three　times　in　so　short　a　span。
　　Any　owner　was　free　to　run　a　horse　just　once。　Any　owner　（or　any　other　passenger　on　the　train）　was　free　to　bring　any　other　of　his　horses　to　Toronto；　Winnipeg　or　Vancouver　by　road　or　by　air　to　run　in　the　special　races。　The　trip　was　to　be　a　lighthearted　junket　for　the　visitors；　a　celebration　of　racing　in　Canada。
　　In　smaller　print　after　all　that　trumpeting　came　the　information　that　acmodation　was　available　also　for　one　groom　for　each　horse。　If　owners　wanted　space　for　extra　attendants；　would　they　please　specify　early。　Grooms　and　other　attendants　would　have　their　own　dining　and　sleeping　cars　and　their　own　separate　entertainments。
　　Stabling　had　been　reserved　at　Toronto；　Winnipeg　and　Vancouver　for　the　horses　going　by　train；　and　they　would　be　able　to　exercise　normally　at　all　three　places。　In　addition；　during　the　passengers'　visit　to　the　mountains；　the　horses　would　be　stabled　and　exercised　in　Calgary。　The　good　care　of　the　horses　was　of　prime　importance；　and　a　veterinarian　would　be　at　once　helicoptered　to　the　train　if　his　services　should　bee　necessary　between　scheduled　stops。
　　Next　in　the　package　was　a　pencilled　note　from　Bill　Baudelaire：
　　All　eleven　horse　places　were　sold　out　within　two　weeks　of　the　first　major　announcement。
　　All　forty…eight　VIP　passenger　places　were　sold　within　a　month。
　　There　are　dozens　of　entries　for　the　special　races。
　　This　is　going　to　be　a　success！
　　After　that　came　a　list　of　the　eleven　horses；　with　past　form；　followed　by　a　list　of　their　owners；　with　nationalities。　Three　owners　from　England　（including　Filmer）；　one　from　Australia；　three　from　the　United　States　and　five　from　Canada　（including　Filmer's　partner）。
　　The　owners；　with　husbands；　wives；　families　and　friends；　had　taken　up　twenty…seven　of　the　forty…eight　passenger　places。　Four　of　the　remaining　twenty…one　places　had　also　been　taken　by　well…known　Canadian　owners　（identified　by　a　star　against　their　names）；　and　Bill　Baudelaire；　in　a　note　pencilled　at　the　bottom　of　this　passenger　list　had　put；　'Splendid　response　from　our　appeal　to　our　owners　to　support　the　project！'
　　There　were　no　trainers　mentioned　on　the　passenger　list；　and　in　fact　I　later　learned　that　the　trainers　were　making　their　own　way　by　air　as　usual　to　Winnipeg　and　Vancouver；　presumably　because　the　train　trip　was　too　time…consuming　and　expensive。
　　Next　in　the　package　came　a　bunch　of　hand…outs　from　the　three　racecourses；　from　the　Canadian　railway　pany　and　from　the　four　hotels；　all　shiny　pamphlets　extolling　their　individual　excellencies。　Finally；　a　fat　brochure　with　good　colour　plates　put　together　by　the　travel　organizers　in　charge　of　getting　the　show　on　the　railroad；　a　job　which　seemed　well　within　their　powers　since　they　apparently　also　arranged　safaris　to　outer　deserts；　treks　to　the　Poles　and　tours　to　anywhere　anyone　cared　to　go。
　　They　also　staged　mysteries　as　entertainment；　evenings；　weekends；　moving　or　stationary。　They　were　experts　from　much　practice。
　　For　the　Great　Transcontinental　Mystery　Race　Train；　they　said；　they　had　arranged　something　extra…special。　'A　mystery　that　will　grab　you　by　the　throat。　A　stunning　experience。　All　around　you　the　story　will　unfold。　Clues　will　appear。　BE　ON　YOUR　GUARD。'
　　Oh　great；　I　thought　wryly。　But　they　hadn't　finished。　There　was　a　parting　shot。
　　'BEWARE！　MANY　PEOPLE　ARE　NOT　WHAT　THEY　SEEM。'
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　Four
　　
　　'How　can　they　stage　a　play　on　a　train？'　I　asked　Bill　Baudelaire　the　next　day。　'I　wouldn't　have　thought　it　would　work。'
　　'Mysteries　are　very　popular　in　Canada。　Very　fashionable；'　he　said；　'and　they　don't　exactly　stage　a　play。　Some　of　the　passengers　will　be　actors　and　they　will　make　the　story　evolve。　I　went　to　a　dinner　party。。。　a　mystery　dinner　party。。。　not　long　ago；　and　some　of　the　guests　were　actors；　and　before　we　knew　where　we　were；　we　were　all　caught　up　in　a　string　of　events；　just　as　if　it　were　real。　Quite　amazing。　I　went　because　my　wife　wanted　to。　I　didn't　think　I　would　enjoy　it　in　the　least；　but　I　did。'
　　'Some　of　the　passengers。。。'　I　repeated　slowly。　'Do　you　know　which　ones？'
　　'No；　I　don't；'　he　said；　more　cheerfully　than　I　liked。　That's　part　of　the　fun　for　everyone；　trying　to　spot　the　actors。'
　　I　liked　it　less　and　less。
　　'And　of　course　the　actors　may　be　hiding　among　the　other　lot　of　passengers　until　their　turn　to　appear　es。'
　　'What　other　lot　of　passengers？'　I　said　blankly。
　　'The　racegoers。'　He　looked　at　my　face。　'Doesn't　it　say　anything　about　them　in　the　package？'
　　'No；　it　doesn't。'
　　'Ah。'　He　reflected　briefly。　'Well；　in　order　to　make　the　trip　economically　viable；　the　rail　pany　said　we　should　add　our　own　party　to　the　regular　train　which　sets　off　every　day　from　Toronto　to　Vancouver；　which　is　called　the　Canadian。　We　didn't　want　to　do　that　because　it　would　have　meant　we　couldn't　stop　the　train　for　two　nights　in　Winnipeg　and　again　for　the　mountains；　and　although　the　carriages　could　be　unhitched　and　left　in　a　siding；　we'd　be　faced　with　security　problems。　But　our　own　special　train　was　proving　extremely；　almost　impossibly；　expensive。　So　we　advertised　a　separate　excursion。。。　a　racegoing　trip　and　now　we　have　our　own　train。　But　it　has　been　expanded；　with　three　or　four　more　sleeping　cars；　another　dining　car；　and　a　dayniter　or　two　according　to　how　many　tickets　they　sell　in　the　end。　We　had　an　enormous　response　from　people　who　didn't　want　to　pay　what　the　owners　are　paying　but　would　like　to　go　to　the　races　across　Canada　on　vacation。　They　are　buying　their　tickets　for　the　train　at　the　normal　fare　and　making　their　own　arrangements　at　the　stops。。。　and　we　call　these　passengers　the　racegoers；　for　convenience。'
　　I　signed。　I　supposed　it　made　sense。　'What's　a　dayniter？'　I　said。
　　'A　car　with　reclining　seats；　not　bedrooms。'
　　'And　how　many　people　altogether　will　be　travelling？'
　　'Difficult　to　say。　Start　with　forty…eight　owners。。。　we　call　them　owners　to　distinguish　them　from　the　racegoers　。。。　and　the　grooms。　Then　the　actors　and　the　people　from　the　travel　pany。　Then　the　train　crew　and　stewards；　waiters；　chefs　and　so　on。　With　all　the　racegoers。。。　well；　perhaps　about　two　hundred　people　altogether。　We　won't　know　until　we　start。　Probably　not　then；　unless　we　actually　count。'
　　I　could　get　lost　among　two　hundred　more　easily　than　among　forty…eight；　I　thought。　Perhaps　it　might　not　be　too　bad。　Yet　the　owners　would　be　looking　for　actors。。。　for　people　who　weren't　what　they　seemed。
　　'You　asked　about　contact；'　Bill　Baudelaire　said。
　　'Yes。'
　　'I've　discussed　it　with　some　of　our　Jockey　Club；　and　we　think　you'll　simply　have　to　telephone　us　from　the　stops。'
　　I　said　with　some　alarm；　'How　many　of　your　Jockey　Club　know　I'm　going　on　the　train？'
　　He　looked　surprised。　'I　suppose　everyone　in　the　executive　office　knows　we'll　have　a　man　in　place。　They　don't　know　exactly　who。　Not　by　name。　Not　yet。　Not　until　I'd　met　you　and　approved。　They　don't　and　won't　know　what　you　look　like。'
　　'Would　you　please　not　tell　them　my　name；'　I　said。
　　He　was　half　bewildered；　half　affronted。　'But　our　Jockey　Club　are　sensible　men。　Discreet。'
　　'Information　leaks；'　I　said。
　　He　looked　at　me　broodingly；　vodka　and　ice　cubes　tinkling　in　a　fresh　glass。　'Are　you　serious？'　he　said。
　　'Yes；　indeed。'
　　His　brow　wrinkled。　'I'm　afraid　I　may　have　mentioned　your　name　to　one　or　two。　But　I　will　impress　on　them　not　to　repeat　it。'
　　It　was　too　late；　I　supposed；　for　much　else。　Perhaps　I　was　getting　too　obsessed　with　secrecy。　Still。。。
　　'I'd　rather　not　telephone　direct　to　the　Jockey　Club；'　I　said。
　　'Couldn't　I　leave　messages　where　only　you　will　get　them？　Like　your　own　home？'
　　His　face　melted　into　an　almost　boyish　grin。　'I　have　three　teenage　daughters　and　a　busy　wife。　The　receiver　is　almost　never　in　the　cradle。'　He　thought　briefly；　then　wrote　a　number　on　a　sheet　of　a　small　notepad　and　gave　it　to　me。
　　'Use　this　one；'　he　said。　'It's　my　mother's　number。　She's　always　there。　She's　not　well　and　spends　a　good　deal　of　time　in　bed。　But　her　brains　are　intact。　She's　quick…witted。　And　because　she's　ill；　if　she　calls　me　at　the　office　she　gets　put　straight　through　to　me　or　else　she　gets　told　where　to　find　me。　If　you　give　her　a　message；　it　will　reach　me　personally　with　minimum　delay。　Will　that　do？'
　　'Yes；　fine；