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'Why was Filmer prosecuted；' he asked； 'if there was such a poor case？'
'There was a cast…iron case；' I said。 'Filmer sent a particularly vicious frightener to intimidate all four prosecution witnesses； and the cast iron became splinters。 This time 。。。 this morning。。。 we thought we'd stage a sort of preliminary trial； at which the witness couldn't have been reached； and have it all on record in case anyone retracted afterwards。'
He looked at me sceptically。 'Did you think I could be intimidated？ I assure you I can't。 Not any more。'
After a pause I said； 'You have Xanthe。 Ezra Gideon had daughters and grandchildren。 One of the witnesses in the Paul Shacklebury case backed away because of what she was told would happen to her sixteen…year…old daughter if she gave evidence。'
'Dear God；' he said； dismayed。 'Surely he'll be sent to prison。'
'He'll be warned off； anyhow； and that's what he wants least。 He had Paul Shacklebury killed to prevent it。 I think we will have got rid of him from racing。 For the rest。。。 we'll have to see what the Canadian police and VIA Rail can do； and hope they'll find McLachlan。'
Let McLachlan not be eaten by a bear； I thought。 （And he hadn't been： he was picked up for a stealing tools from a railway yard in Edmonton a week later； and subsequently convicted with Filmer of the serious ancient offence of attempted train…wrecking； chiefly on the evidence of a temporary crew member in his VIA Rail clothes。 VIA put me on their personnel list retroactively； and shook my hand。 Filmer was imprisoned despite his defence that he had not given specific instructions to McLachlan on any count and had tried to stop him before the end。 It was proved that he had actively recruited a violent saboteur： any later possible change of mind was held to be irrelevant。 Filmer never did find out that I wasn't a waiter； because it wasn't a question his lawyers ever thought to ask； and it went much against him with the jury that he'd violently attacked a defenceless rail employee without provocation in front of many witnesses even though he knew of the broken scapula。 The Brigadier kept a straight face throughout。 'It worked a treat；' he said afterwards。 'Wasn't Daffodil Quentin a trouper； convincing them the poor boy had been brutally beaten for no reason except that he'd saved them all from being killed in their beds？ Lovely stuff。 It made nonsense of the change…of…heart defence。 They couldn't wait to find Filmer guilty after that。' McLachlan in his turn swore that I'd nearly murdered him； out on the track。 I said he'd tripped and knocked himself out on the rails。 McLachlan could produce no X…rays and wasn't believed； to his fury。 'Broken bone or not； that waiter can fight like a goddam tiger；' he said。 'No way could Filmer beat him up。' Filmer however had done so。 It had been seen； and was a fact。'
On the Tuesday of the Jockey Club Race Train Stakes at Exhibition Park； with the trial still months ahead； and the feel of Filmer's fists a reality not a memory； the racecourse President came into his private room to see Mercer and me and to show us that if we drew the curtains along the right…hand side wall； we could see into the reception room。
'They can't see into here；' he said。 'It's one…way glass。' He pulled strings and revealed the party。 'I hear the meeting went well this morning except for the end。' He looked at me questioningly。 'Mr Lorrimore and Bill Baudelaire asked that you be treated as a most honoured guest。。。 but shouldn't you be resting？'
'No point； sir；' I said； 'and I wouldn't miss the great race for anything。'
Through the window one could fascinatingly see all the faces grown so familiar during the past ten days。 The Unwins； the Redi…Hots； the Youngs。。。
'If I might ask you…？' I said。
'Ask the world； according to Bill Baudelaire and Brigadier Catto。'
I smiled。 'Not the world。 That young woman over there in the grey suit； with the fair hair in a plait and a worried expression。'
'Nell Richmond；' Mercer said。
'Would you mind if she came in here for a while？'
'Not in the least；' the President said； and within minutes could be seen talking to her。 He couldn't have told her who to expect in his room； though； because when she came in and saw me she was surprised and； I had to think； joyful。
'You're on your feet！ Daffodil said the waiter was hurt badly。' Her voice died away and she swallowed。 'I was afraid。。。'
'That we wouldn't get to Hawaii？'
'Oh。' It was a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob。 'I don't think I like you。'
'Try harder。'
'Well。。。' She opened her handbag and began to look inside it； and glanced up and saw all the people next door。 'How great；' she said to Mercer。 'You're both with us； even if you're not。' She produced a folded piece of paper and gave it to me。 'I have to go back to sort out the lunch places。'
I didn't want her to go。 I said； 'Nell。。。' and heard it sound too full of anxiety； too full of plain physical battering； but it was past calling back。
Her face changed。 The games died away。
'Read that when I've gone；' she said。 'And I'll be there 。。。 through the glass。'
She went out of the President's room without looking back and soon reappeared among the others。 I unfolded the paper slowly； not wanting it to be bad news； and found it was a telex。 It said：
RICHMOND。 FOUR SEASONS HOTEL； VANCOUVER。 CONFIRM YOUR TWO WEEKS VACATION STARTING IMMEDIATELY。 MERRY。 HAVE A GOOD TIME。
I closed my eyes。
'Is that despair？' Mercer said。
I opened my eyes。 The telex still read the same way。 I handed it to him； and he read it also。
'I dare say；' he said ironically； 'that Val Catto will match this。'
'If he doesn't； I'll resign。'
We spent the afternoon panionably and watched the preliminary races with the interest of devotees。 When it was time for the Jockey Club Race Train Stakes Mercer decided that； Sheridan or not； he would go down to see Voting Right saddled； as he could go and return by express elevator to our eyrie to watch the race。
When he'd gone and the room next door had mostly emptied； I looked down on the flags and the banners and the streamers and balloons and the razzamatazz with which Exhibition Park had met the challenge of Assiniboia Downs and Woodbine and thought of all that had happened on the journey across Canada； and I wondered whether I would find flat…footing round British racecourses in the rain a relaxation or a bore； wondered if I would go on doing it； thought that time would show me the way； as it always had。
I thought of Mrs Baudelaire； whom I would never meet； and wished she could have watched this next race； thought of Aunt Viv with gratitude。
Mercer came back looking happy： happier in a peaceful way； as if he had settled ghosts。
'Daffodil is amazing；' he said。 'She's down there holding court； kissing Laurentide Ice； laughing； on top of the world。 There seems to be no difficulty in the horse running； even though half still presumably belongs to Filmer。'
'It's in Daffodil's name on the race…card；' I said。
'So it is。 And the Youngs。。。 Rose and Cumber。。。 with Sparrowgrass； and the people with R