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Chapter 12 Turning Down Filmer's Bed

On my way from George's office to the dining-car, to help Emil and the others, I met the sleeping-car attendant, with whom I had become friendly a couple of days before. A plan was starting to form in my mind.

We chatted for a few minutes about the scenery. He had never been this far west before, since he normally worked only on trains between Toronto and Winnipeg.

'What time do you turn the blankets down on the beds?' I asked.

'Any time after all the passengers have gone into the dining-car for the evening meal,' he said. 'Why?'

'I'll give you a hand with the beds, if you like.'

'You don't have to, you know.'

'I know, but I'd like to. It'll be a useful experience for me, if I want to work on trains.'

In the dining-car, I found the others hard at work, and apologized for being late again.

Soon the passengers started coming in and sitting at the tables. Night was falling fast over the mountains. Nell was sitting at a table with the Unwins, and they were complaining that the train would pass through the best scenery after dark. Nell said that she was sorry, but she didn't write the timetables; and she hoped that they had seen a mountain or two at Lake Louise.

Filmer came in trying to wipe a grin off his face. I didn't like the look of that: anything which made Filmer smile was certain to be bad news for someone else.

The Lorrimores sat together at one table: the children looked rebellious; Bambi looked bored; and Mercer looked as though his thoughts were elsewhere. I hoped that Filmer's good mood and Mercer's worry were not connected, although I was afraid that they might be.

I stayed long enough to serve the passengers their first glasses of champagne, and then explained to Emil that I would have to leave, but that I would be back before the meal was over. I didn't ask what he told Cathy, Oliver and the others about my mysterious behaviour. Perhaps he said nothing: they were nice people, and would take me on trust.

Once all the passengers were sitting and eating, I left the dining-car and went to find the sleeping-car attendant. 'Now?' I asked.

'Sure,' he said.

We went up to the door of the Youngs' room. The attendant knocked on the door. 'You must always knock,' he explained, 'even when you know they're not in.'

We entered and he showed me how to prepare the beds. 'That looks easy enough,' I said. 'You can leave me to do this end of the corridor, if you like, while you do the other end.'

'OK,' he said. 'Thanks.'

'Thank óîu,' I replied, and watched him walk off down the corridor.

The room next to the Youngs' was Filmer's. My heart was in my mouth as I knocked and entered. The briefcase was in the same place, under the bed. I pulled it out.

My hands were trembling as I turned the wheels on the lock: 049, and the left-hand lock opened; 151 for the right-hand one.

I was faced with a lot of boring papers about the Trans­continental Race Train - the brochure I'd already seen, Filmer's ticket, and so on. There was his passport, numbered H049151: good for the Brigadier.



The I came across a cutting from a newspaper — a newspaper from Cambridge, England. It said that one of the colleges had been given a large amount of money by the famous Canadian banker Mercer P. Lorrimore, to go towards building a new library. My God! What was Filmer doing with that?

Underneath the cutting was another piece of paper. It was completely blank apart from a short typewritten report. There were no marks to betray where it had come from, but it mentioned the horrible ways in which seven cats had been killed in 'the College' — it didn't say which college. Most of the cats had had their heads cut off, or worse; all of them had been treated with extreme cruelty before being killed.

I nearly had a heart attack when I heard a knock at the door.
But it was only the sleeping-car attendant. He had wondered
why I was taking so long. 'Can I help?' he asked. ;.

'No,' I said. 'I'm just coming.'

I took one last look at the cutting and the report, so that I would remember the details, pushed the briefcase back under the bed and left the room.

'I had some trouble,' I explained to the attendant. 'It's not as easy as it looks to get everything perfectly neat and tidy.'

'Are you all right?' he asked. 'You look all hot.'

'I'll be OK now,' I said. 'Thanks.'

At that moment, Filmer himself came from the dining-car. 'Hey, you!' he said to me. 'Were you in my bedroom?'

'Yes, sir,' I said. 'I was making your bed ready for the night, sir.'

'Oh,' he said, accepting what I'd said. He went into his room.

I waited outside in the corridor, expecting him to storm out of his room any second and accuse me of going through his belongings. But nothing happened and I breathed freely again.

 


Date: 2015-12-24; view: 536


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