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e stables。
The Clubhouse； from where diners could watch the sport； took up one whole floor of the grandstand； glassed in along its whole length to preserve summer indoors。 I decided not to go in there on the grounds that Tommy would not； and Tommy off duty in Tommy's off…duty clothes was what I most definitely wanted to be at that moment。 I made some Tommy…sized bets and ate very well in the （literally） below…stairs bar； and in general walked around； race…card in hand； binoculars around neck； exactly as usual。
The daylight faded almost imperceptibly into night； electricity taking over the sun's job smoothly。 By seven； when the first race was run； it was under floodlighting； the jockeys' colours brilliant against the backdrop of night。
There were a lot of half…familiar faces in the crowds； the enthusiastic racegoers from the train。 The only one of them that I was interested in； though； was either extremely elusive； or not there。 All the techniques I knew of finding people were to no avail： the man with his gaunt face； grey hair and fur…collared Parka was more invisible than myself。
I did see Nell。
In her plain blue suit she came down from the Clubhouse with two of the owners who seemed to want to be near the horses at ground level。 I drifted after the three of them to watch the runners e out for the third race and wasn't far behind them when they walked right down to the rails to see the contest from the closest possible quarters。 When it was over； the owners turned towards the stands talking animatedly about the result； and I contrived to be where Nell would see me； with any luck； making a small waving motion with my race…card。
She noticed the card； noticed me with widening eyes； and in a short while detached herself from the owners and stood and waited。 When without haste I reached her side； she gave me a sideways grin。
'Aren't you one of the waiters from the train？' she said。
'I sure am。'
'Did you find somewhere to sleep？'
'Yes； thank you。 How's the Westin？'
She was staying with the owners； their shepherd； their smoother…of…the…way； their information booth。
'The hotel's all right； but someone should strangle that rich。。。 that arrogant。。。 that insufferable Sheridan。' Disgust vibrated in her voice as she suddenly let go of some clearly banked…up and held…back emotion。 'He's unbearable。 He's spoiling it for others。 They all paid a fortune to e on this trip and they're entitled not to be upset。'
'Did something happen？' I asked。
'Yes； at breakfast。' The memory displeased her。 'Zak put on the next scene of the mystery and Sheridan shouted him down three times。 I went over to Sheridan to ask him to be quiet and he grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me on to his lap； and I overbalanced and fell and hit the table hard where he was sitting； and I caught the cloth somehow and pulled it with me and everything on it landed on the floor。 So you can imagine the fuss。 I was on my knees； there was orange juice and broken plates and food and coffee everywhere and Sheridan was saying loudly it was my fault for being clumsy。'
'And I can imagine；' I said； seeing resignation more than indignation now in her face； 'that Bambi Lorrimore took no notice； that Mercer hurried to help you up and apologize； and Mrs Young enquired if you were hurt。'
She looked at me in amazement。 'You were there！'
'No。 It just figures。'
'Well。。。 that's exactly what happened。 A waiter came to deal with the mess； and while he was kneeling there Sheridan said loudly that the waiter was sneering at him and he would get him fired。' She paused。 'And I suppose you can tell me again what happened next？'
She was teasing； but I answered； 'I'd guess Mercer assured the waiter he wouldn't be fired and took him aside and gave him twenty dollars。'
Her mouth opened。 'You were there。'
I shook my head。 'He gave me twenty dollars when Sheridan shoved me the other evening。'
'But that's awful。'
'Mercer's a nice man caught in an endless dilemma。 Bambi's closed her mind to it。 Xanthe seeks fort somewhere else。'
Nell thought it over and delivered her judgement； which was much like my own。
'One day； beastly Sheridan will do something his father can't pay for。'
'He's a very rich man；' I said。
Chapter Twelve
'It's nothing to do with his birthday； nor with his telephone numbers； nor addresses； past or present； nor his bank accounts； nor his national insurance。'
Mrs Baudelaire's light voice in my ear； passing on the bad news on Wednesday morning。
'Val Catto is working on your quarry's credit card numbers now；' she said。 'And he wants to know why he's doing all this research。 He says he's looked up your quarry's divorced wife's personal numbers also and he cannot see one…five…one anywhere； with or without three unknown digits in front。'
I signed audibly； disappointed。
'How important is it？' she asked。
'It's impossible to tell。 It could be pointless； it could solve all our problems。 Empty box or jackpot； or anywhere in between。 Please would you tell the Brigadier that one…five…one is the bination that unlocks the right…hand latch of a black crocodile briefcase。 We have three unknowns on the left。'
'Good gracious；' she said。
'Could you say I would appreciate his instructions？'
'I could； young man。 Why don't you just steal the briefcase and take your time？'
I laughed。 'I've thought of that； but I'd better not。 Ornot yet； anyway。 If the numbers have any logic； this way is safest。'
'Val would presumably prefer you didn't get arrested。'
Or murdered； perhaps； I thought。
'I would say；' I agreed； 'that getting myself arrested would lose me my job。'
'You'd no longer be invisible？'
'Quite right。'
'And I'm afraid；' she said； 'that I have some more negative news for you。'
'What is it？' I asked。
'Bill says the samples of water you sent him were just that； water。'
'That's good news； actually。'
'Oh？ Well； good； then。'
I reflected。 'I think I'll phone you again this evening before we leave Winnipeg。'
'Yes； do；' she agreed。 'The further west you go the bigger the time change and the longer it takes to get replies from Val Catto。'
'Mm。'
Mrs Baudelaire couldn't ring the Brigadier in the middle of his night； nor in the middle of hers。 Toronto； where she lived； was five hours behind London； Winnipeg six； Vancouver eight。 At breakfast time in Vancouver； London's office workers began travelling home。 Confusing for carrier pigeons。
'Good luck；' she said。 'I'll talk to you later。'
I was used by now to her abrupt disappearances。 I put my receiver down； hearing only silence on the line； and wondered what she looked like； and how deeply she was ill。 I would go back to Toronto； I thought； and see her。
I sped again on the bus to the races and found that overnight Assiniboia Downs had sprouted all the ballyhoo of Woodbine； T…shirt stalls； banners and besashed bosoms Supporting Canadian Racing included。
I again spent most of the afternoon looking for gaunt…face； ing in the end to the conclusion that whatever he was doing on the train he wasn't t