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He was looking languid and exhausted, but obliging. 'Tell them it's sieved apple puree, sugar, whipped cream, whipped white of egg. Combine at the last minute. Very simple '

'Delicious,' Rose said, when I relayed the information. 'Do bring out the chef for us to congratulate him '

Emil brought out and introduced Angus to prolonged applause. Simone sulked determinedly in the kitchen. Rose Young said they should all thank the rest of the dining-car crew who had worked so hard throughout. Everyone clapped, all most affecting.

Xanthe clapped, I noticed. I had great hopes for Xanthe.

I managed to stop beside Nell's ear.

'Xanthe's longing to have a good time,' I said. 'Couldn't you rescue her?'

'What's the matter with the others'' she asked, frowning.

'Xanthe might tell you, if she knows.'

Nell flashed me an acutely perceptive glance. 'And you want me to tell you?'

'Yes, please, since you ask '

'One day you'll explain all this '

'One day soon.'

I went back to the kitchen with the others to tackle the mountainous dishwashing and to eat anything left over, which wasn't much. Angus produced a bottle of Scotch from a cupboard and drank from it deeply without troubling a glass. Apart from Simone, who had disappeared altogether, there was very good feeling in the kitchen. I wouldn't have missed it, I thought, for a fieldful of mushrooms.

When everything was scoured, polished and put away, we left Angus unbelievably beginning to make breads for breakfast. I stood in the lobby for a while, watching the dining-car slowly clear as everyone drifted off to the dome car lounge for laughter and music. The Lorrimores had all gone, and so had Nell and the Unwins and the Youngs Out of habit I began to collect, with Oliver, the used napkins and tablecloths, ready to put out clean ones for breakfast, and presently Nell came back and sat down wearily where I was working.

'For what it's worth,' she said, 'Xanthe doesn't know what has thrown her parents into such a tizzy She says it can't have been something Mr Filmer said in the lounge before cocktails because it sounded so silly.'

'Did she tell you what he said?'

Nell nodded 'Xanthe said Mr Filmer asked her father if he would let him have Voting Right, and her father said he wouldn't part with the horse for anything, and they were both smiling, Xanthe said Then Mr Filmer, still smiling, said, "We'll have to have a little talk about cats " And that was all Mr Filmer went into the dining car Xanthe said she asked her father what Mr Filmer meant, and he said, "Don't bother me, darling. "'

Nell shook his head in puzzlement. 'So anyway, Xanthe is now having a good time in the dome-car lounge and the rest of the family have gone off into their own car, and I'm deadly tired, if you want to know '

'Go to bed, then '

The actors are all along in the lounge having their photos taken,' she said, dismissing my suggestion as frivolous. 'They came up trumps tonight, didn't they?'

'Brilliant,' I said

'Someone was asking Zak who had tried to kidnap which horse at Toronto station '

'What did he say?' I asked, amused. It was the loosest of the loose ends.

'He said it had seemed a good idea at the time ' She laughed. 'He said they'd had to change the script because the actor who was supposed to play the part of the kidnapper had broken his arm and couldn't appear. Everyone seemed to be satisfied. They're all very happy with the way it ended. People are kissing Donna and Mavis. Mavis is wearing the jewels.' She yawned and reflected. 'Mr Filmer didn't have any dinner, did he? Perhaps I'd better go and see if he's all right.'

I dissuaded her. Antacids were taking care of it, I said. What one could give a man for a sick soul was another matter.

From this point of view, he had made his move a fraction too early, I thought. If he hadn't already made the threat, the play wouldn't have had such a cataclysmic effect either on him or on Mercer. Mercer might have been warned, as I'd intended, might have been made to think: but I couldn't have foreseen that it would happen the way it had, even though Filmer's smirk and Mercer's gloom had made me wonder. Just as well, perhaps, that I hadn't known about the cats when I invented the theft of the jewels. I might have been terribly tempted to hit even closer to home. Tortured horses, perhaps?

'What are you hatching now?' Nell demanded. 'You've got that distant look.'

'I haven't done a thing,' I said.

'I'm not so sure.' She stood up. She was wearing, in honour of the banquet, a boat-necked black blouse above the full black skirt, a pearl choker round her neck. Her fair hair was held back high in a comb, but not plaited, falling instead in informal curls. I thought with unnerving intensity that I didn't want to lose her, that for me it was no longer a game. I had known her for a week and a day. Reason said it wasn't long enough. Instinct said it was.

'Where are you staying in Vancouver?' I asked.

'At the Four Seasons Hotel, with all the passengers.'

She gave me a small smile and went off towards the action. Oliver had finished clearing the cloths and was laying clean ones, to leave the place looking tidy, he said. I left him to finish and made up my way up the train to talk to George Burley, passing Filmer's closed door on the way.

The sleeping-car attendant was sitting in his roomette with the door open. I poked my head in and asked how the passenger was, who'd asked for the antacid.

'He went up the train a while ago, and came back. He didn't say anything, just walked past. He must be all right, I guess.'

I nodded and went on, and came to George sitting at his table with his endless forms.

'Come in,' he invited, and I took my accustomed seat. 'I showed that photo,' he said. 'Is that what you want to know about?'

'Yes.'

'He's definitely on the train. Name of Johnson, according to the passenger list. He has a roomette right forward, and he stays in it most of the time. He eats in the forward dome-car dining room, but only dinner, eh? He was in there just now when I went up to the engine, but he'd gone when I came back. A fast eater, they say. Never goes for breakfast or lunch. Never talks to anyone, eh?'

'I don't like it,' I said.

George chuckled. 'Wait till you hear the worst.'

'What's the worst?'

'My assistant conductor-he's one of the sleeping-car attendants up front-he says he's seen him before, eh?'

'Seen him where?'

George watched me for effect. 'On the railways.'

'On the-do you mean he's a railwayman?'

'He can't be sure. He says he looks like a baggage handler he once worked with on the Toronto to Montreal sector, long time ago. Fifteen years ago. Twenty. Says if it's him, he had a chip on his shoulder all the time, no one liked him. He could be violent. You didn't cross him. Might not be him, though. He's older. And he doesn't remember the name Johnson, though I suppose it's forgettable, it's common enough.'

'Would a baggage handler,' I said slowly, 'know how to drain a fuel tank… and uncouple the Lorrimores' car?'

George's eyes gleamed with pleasure. 'The baggage handlers travel on the trains, eh? They're not fools. They take on small bits of freight at the stops and see the right stuff gets off. If you live around trains, you get to know how they work.'

'Is there a baggage handler on this train? '

'You bet your life. He's not always in the baggage car, not when we're going along. He eats, eh? He's always there in the stations, unlocking the doors. This one's not the best we've got, mind. A bit old, a bit fat.' He chuckled. 'He said he'd never seen this man Johnson, but then he's always worked Vancouver to Banff, never Toronto to Montreal.'

'Has the baggage handler or your assistant talked to Johnson?'