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iven it away because he was being blackmailed。
'How do we know he wasn't？' Cumber demanded。
The Unwins were listening open…mouthed。 I filled all their glasses quietly； unnoticed in their general preoccupation。
'Who now has Ezra's horses； that's what I want to know；' Cumber said truculently。 'And it'll be easy enough to find out。' He spoke loudly： loudly enough； I thought； for Filmer to hear him； if he were listening。
Emil had beaten me to it with the Lorrimores； but they made a remarkable picture。 Mercer's forearms rested on the table as he sat with his head bowed。 Bambi； a glitter of tears in the frosty eyes； stretched out a hand； closed it over one of Mercer's fists； and stroked his knuckles with forting affection。 Xanthe was saying anxiously； 'What's the matter with everybody？' and Sheridan looked blank。 Not supercilious； not arrogant； not even alarmed： a wiped blank slate。
There were a good many people in the aisle； not only the service crew but also the actors who； still in character； were finishing off the drama in the ways they felt happy with： Walter and Mavis； for instance； agreeing that Pierre had saved Donna's life and couldn't be all bad； and maybe he would marry Donna。。。 if he stopped gambling。
Threading his way through all this came the sleeping…car attendant on his way to do the bunks in the dome car。 He nodded to me with a smile as he passed； and I nodded back： and I thought that my main problem would probably be that the play had been all too successful； and that the people most upset by it wouldn't stay sitting down for dinner。
I wandered back to the kitchen where Angus's octopus act was reaching new heights and hoped especially that Filmer's physical reactions wouldn't get him restlessly to his feet and force him to leave。
He didn't move。 The rigidity in his body very slowly relaxed。 The impact of the play seemed to be lessening； and perhaps he really believed that Zak had made it all up。
I set the two tables nearest to the kitchen： automatically folded the napkins and arranged knives and forks。 The sleeping…car attendant came back eventually from the dome car； and I left my place settings unfinished and followed him。
'Are you sure？' he asked over his shoulder。 'They seem pretty busy in the dining car。'
'It's a good time；' I assured him。 'Fifteen minutes to dinner。 How about if I start from this end； then I'll just stop and go back if I feel guilty。'
'Right；' he said。 'Do you remember how to fold the chairs？'
He knocked on Filmer's door。
'The people are all along in the dining car； but knock first just in case；' he said。
'OK。'
We went into Filmer's room。
'Fold the chair while I'm here； so I can help if you need it。'
'OK。' '
I folded； a shade slowly； Julius Apollo's armchair。 The sleeping…car attendant gave me a pat on the shoulder and left； saying he would start from the far end； as he usually did； and we might meet in the middle。
'And thanks a lot；' he said。
I waved a hand。 The thanks； did he but know it； were all mine。 I left the door open and pulled Filmer's bed down into the night position； smoothing the bottom sheet； folding down a corner of the top sheet； as I'd been shown。
I groped into Filmer's wardrobe space； gripped the black crocodile briefcase and rested it on the bed。
Zero…four…nine。 One…five…one。
My fingers trembled with the pulsion for speed。
I aligned the little wheels； fumbling where I needed precision。 Zero…four…nine。。。 press the catch。 Click！
One…five…one。 Press the catch。 Click！ The latches were open。
I laid the case flat on the bottom sheet； pushing the upper sheet back a little to acmodate it； and I lifted the lid。 Heart thumping； breathing stopped。
The first thing inside was Filmer's passport。 I looked at it briefly and then more closely； getting my suspended breath back in a jerky sort of silent laugh。 The number of Filmer's passport was H049151。 Hooray for the Brigadier。
I laid the passport on the bed； and looked through the other papers without removing them or changing their order。 They were mainly a boring lot： all the bumf about the train trip； a few newspaper pages about the races； then a newspaper cutting from a Cambridge local paper about the building of a new library in one of the colleges； thanks to the generosity of Canadian philanthropist Mercer P。 Lorrimore。
My God； I thought。
Beneath the clipping was a letter…a photocopy of a letter。 I read it at breakneck speed； feeling danger creep up my spine； feeling my skin flood with heat。
It was short。 Typewritten。 There was no address at the top； no date； no salutation and no signature。 It said：
As requested I examined the cadavers of the seven cats found pegged out； eviscerated and beheaded in the College gardens。 I can find nothing except for wilful wickedness。 These were not cult killings； in my opinion。 The cats were killed over a period of perhaps three weeks； the last one yesterday。 Each one； except the last； had been hidden under leaves； and had been attacked after death by insects and scavengers。 They were all alive when they were pegged out； and during evisceration。 Most； if not all； were alive at decapitation。 I have disposed of the remains； as you asked。
I could see my hand trembling。 I tipped up the next few sheets of paper which were reports from stockbrokers； and then； at the very bottom； I came across a small yellow memo sticking to a foolscap…sized paper headed CONVEYANCE。
The memo said； 'You will have to sign this； not Ivor Horfitz； but I think we can keep it quiet。'
I looked a shade blankly at the legal words on the deed： '。。。 all that parcel of land known as SF 90155 on the west side of。。。' and heard the sleeping…car attendant's voice ing nearer along the corridor。
'Tommy。。。 where are you？'
I flicked the case shut and pushed it under the bed's top sheet。 The passport was still in view。 I shoved it under the pillow； walked out of the door hastily and closed it behind me。
'You've been ages in there；' he said； but tolerantly。 'Couldn't you undo the bed？'
'Managed it finally；' I said； dry mouthed。
'Right。 Well； I didn't give you any chocolates。' He handed me a box of big silver…wrapped bonbons。 'Put one on each pillow。'
'Yes； 'I said。
'Are you all right？' he asked curiously。
'Oh； yes。 It was hot in the dining car。'
'True。' He went back towards his end of the car； unsuspicious。 Heart still thumping I returned to Filmer's room； retrieved his passport from under the pillow； replaced it in the briefcase； shut the locks； twirled the bination wheels； realized I hadn't noticed where they'd been set when I came in； hoped to hell that Filmer didn't set them deliberately； put the case back as I'd found it； straightened the bed and put the chocolate tidily where it belonged。
I went out of the room； closed the door and walked two paces towards the next door along。
'Hey； you；' Filmer's voice said angrily from close behind me。 'What were you doing in there？'
I turned。 Looked innocent。。。 felt stunned。
'Making your bed ready for the night； sir。'
'Oh。' He shrugged； accepting it。
I