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The conversation had been a surprise from the beginning; when a light young female voice had answered my call。
'Could I speak to Mrs Baudelaire; please?' I said。
'Speaking。'
'I mean。。。 Mrs Baudelaire senior。'
'Any Mrs Baudelaire who is senior to me is in her grave;' she announced。 'Who are you?'
'Tor Kelsey。'
'Oh yes;' she replied instantly。 'The invisible man。'
I half laughed。
'How do you do it?' she asked。 'I'm dying to know。'
'Seriously?'
'Of course; seriously。'
'Well。。。 say if someone serves you fairly often in a shop; you recognize them when you're in the shop; but if you meet them somewhere quite different; like at the races; you can't remember who they are。'
'Quite right。 It's happened to me often。'
'To be easily recognized;' I said; 'you have to be in your usual environment。 So the trick about invisibility is not to have a usual environment。'
There was a pause; then she said; 'Thank you。 It must be lonely。'
I couldn't think of an answer to that; but was astounded by her perception。
'The interesting thing is;' I said; 'that it's quite different for the people who work in the shop。 When they get to know their customers; they recognize them easily anywhere in the world。 So the racing people I know; I recognize everywhere。 They don't know that I exist。。。 and that's invisibility。'
'You are;' she said; 'an extraordinary young man。'
She stumped me again。
'But Bill knew you existed;' she said; 'and he told me he didn't recognize you face to face。'
'He was looking for the environment he knew。。。 straight hair; no sunglasses; a good grey suit; collar and tie。'
'Yes;' she said。 'If I meet you; will I know you?'
'I'll tell you。'
'Pact。'
This; I thought with relief and enjoyment; was some carrier pigeon。
'Would you give Bill some messages?' I asked。
'Fire away。 I'll write them down。'
'The train reaches Winnipeg tomorrow evening at about seven…thirty; and everyone disembarks to go to hotels。 Please would you tell Bill I will not be staying at the same hotel as the owners; and that I will again not be going to the President's lunch; but that I will be at the races; even if he doesn't see me。'
I paused。 She repeated what I'd said。
'Great;' I said。 'And would you ask him some questions?'
'Fire away。'
'Ask him for general information on a Mr and Mrs Young who own a horse called Sparrowgrass。'
'It's on the train;' she said。
'Yes; that's right。' I was surprised; but she said Bill had given her a list to be a help with messages。
'Ask him;' I said; 'if Sheridan Lorrimore has ever been in any trouble that he knows of; apart from assaulting an actor at Toronto; that should have resulted in Sheridan going to jail。'
'Gracious me。 The Lorrimores don't go to jail。'
'So I gathered;' I said dryly; 'and would you also ask which horses are running at Winnipeg and which at Vancouver; and which in Bill's opinion is the really best horse on the train; not necessarily on form; and which has the best chance of winning either race。'
'I don't need to ask Bill the first question; I can answer that for you right away; it's on this list。 Nearly all the eleven horses; nine to be exact; are running at Vancouver。 Only Upper Gumtree and Flokati run at Winnipeg。 As for the second; in my own opinion neither Upper Gumtree nor Flokati will win at Winnipeg because Mercer Lorrimore is shipping his great horse Premiere by horse…van。'
'Um。。。' I said。 'You follow racing quite a bit?'
'My dear young man; didn't Bill tell you? His father and I owned and ran the Ontario Raceworld magazine for years before we sold it to a conglomerate。'
'I see;' I said faintly。
'And as for the Vancouver race;' she went on blithely; 'Laurentide Ice might as well melt right now; but Sparrowgrass and Voting Right are both in with a good chance。 Sparrowgrass will probably start favourite as his form is consistently good; but as you ask; very likely the best horse; the one with most potential for the future; is Mercer Lorrimore's Voting Right; and I would give that one the edge。'
'Mrs Baudelaire;' I said; 'you are a gem。'
'Beyond the price of rubies;' she agreed。 'Anything else?'
'Nothing; except。。。 I hope you are well。'
'No; not very。 You're kind to ask。 Goodbye; young man。 I'm always here。'
She put the receiver down quickly as if to stop me from asking anything else about her illness; and it reminded me sharply of my Aunt Viv; bright; spirited and horse mad to the end。
I went back to the dining car to find Oliver and Cathy lying the tables for dinner; and I helped them automatically; although they said I needn't。 The job done; we repaired to the kitchen door to see literally what was cooking and to take the printed menus from Angus to put on the tables。
Blinis with caviar; we read; followed by rack of lamb or cold poached salmon; then chocolate mousse with cream。
'There won't be any over;' Cathy sighed; and she was right as far as the blinis went; though we all ate lamb in the end。
With ovens and gas burners roaring away; it was wiltingly hot even at the dining…room end of the kitchen。 Down where the chef worked; a temperature gauge on the wall stood at 102° Fahrenheit; but tall willowy Angus; whose high hat nearly brushed the ceiling; looked cool and unperturbed。
'Don't you have air…conditioning?' I asked。
Angus said; 'In summer; I dare say。 October is however officially winter; even though it's been warm this year。 The air…conditioning needs freon gas which has all leaked away; and it won't be topped up again until spring。 So Simone tells me。'
Simone; a good foot shorter and with sweat trickling down her temples; mutely nodded。
The passengers came straggling back shedding overcoats and saying it was cold outside; and again the dining car filled up。 The Lorrimores this time were all sitting together。 The Youngs were with the Unwins from Australia and Filmer and Daffodil shared a table with a pair Nell later identified to me as the American owners of the horse called Flokati。
Filmer; extremely smooth in a dark suit and grey tie; solicitously removed Daffodil's chinchillas and hung them over the back of her chair。 She shimmered in a figure…hugging black dress; diamonds sparkling whenever she moved; easily outstripping the rest of the pany (even Mavis Bricknell) in conspicuous expenditure。
The train made its smooth inconspicuous departure and I did my stuff with water and breadsticks。
Bambi Lorrimore put her hand arrestingly on my arm as I passed。 She was wearing a mink jacket and struggling to get out of it。
'Take this back into our private car; will you?' she said。 'It's too hot in here。 Put it in the saloon; not the bedroom。'
'Certainly; madam;' I agreed; helping her with alacrity。 'I'd be glad to。'
Mercer produced a key and gave it to me; explaining that I would e to a locked door。
'Lock it again when you e back。'
'Yes; sir。'
He nodded and; carrying the coat away over my arm; I went back through the dome car and with a great deal of interest into the private quarters of the Lorrimores。