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l engine came grinding and groaning past my window followed by long corrugated silver coaches as the whole of the regular Canadian rolled up the track next to the race train and stopped precisely alongside。
Instead of a nice clear photographic view of the station； I now faced the black uninformative window of someone else's roomette。
Frustration and damnation； I thought。 I tucked the binoculars into the holdall again and without any sensible plans wandered back towards the dining car。 If I went on like this； I would fulfil the gloomiest fears of Bill Baudelaire； the Brigadier and； above all； John Millington。 'I told you we should have sent an ex…policeman。。。' I could hear his voice in my ear。
It occurred to me； when I reached Julius Apollo's door； that the Canadian would be standing where it was for the whole of the twenty…five minutes of its daily scheduled stop。 For twenty…five minutes。。。 say twenty…two by now 。。。 Filmer would stay over in the station。 He would not walk round either end of the lengthy Canadian to return to his room。
Would he？
No； he would not。 Why should he？ He had only just gone over there。 I had twenty minutes to see what I could do about his bination locks。
If I'd paused for more thought I perhaps wouldn't have had the nerve； but I simply opened his door； checked up and down the corridor for observers （none） and went inside； shutting myself in。
The black briefcase was still on the floor at the back of the hanging space； under the suits。 I pulled it out； sat on one of the armchairs； and with a feeling of unreality started on the right…hand lock。 If anyone should e in； I thought confusedly。。。 if the sleeping…car attendant for instance came in。。。 whatever excuse could I possibly find？
None at all。
The right…hand bination wheels were set at one…three…seven。 I methodically went on from there； one…three…eight； one…three…nine； one…four…zero； trying the latch after each number change。
My heart hammered and I felt breathless。 I was used to long…distance safety in my work； and in the past to many physical dangers； but never to this sort of risk。
One…four…one； one…four…two； one…four…three。。。。 I tried the latch over and over and looked at my watch。 Only two minutes had gone。 It felt like a lifetime。 One…four…four； one…four…five。。。。 There were a thousand possible binations。。。 one…four…six； one…four…seven。。。 in twenty minutes I could perhaps try a hundred and fifty numbers。 。。。 I had done this process before； once； but not under pressure； when Aunt Viv had set a bination on a new suitcase and then forgotten it。。。 one…four…eight； one…four…nine。。。 my face sweating； my fingers slipping on the tiny wheels from haste。。。 one…five…zero； one…five…one。。。
With a snap the latch flew open。
It was incredible。 I could hardly believe it。 I had barely started。 All I needed now was double the luck。
The left…hand bination numbers stood at seven…three…eight。 I tried the latch。 Nothing。
With just a hope that both locks opened to the same sesame； I turned the wheels to one…five…one and tried it。 Nothing。 Not so easy。 I tried reversing it to five…one…five。 Nothing。 I tried parable numbers； one…two…one； two…one…two； one…three…one； three…one…three； one…four…one； four…one…four。。。 six。。。 seven。。。 eight。。。 nine。。。 three zeros。
Zilch。
My nerve deserted me。 I rolled the left…hand wheels back to seven…three…eight and with the latch closed again set the right…hand lock to one…three…seven。 I polished the latches a bit with my shirtsleeve； then I put the briefcase back exactly as I'd found it and took my leaf…trembling self along to the dining car； already regretting； before I got there； that I hadn't stayed until the Canadian left； knowing that I'd wasted some of the best and perhaps the only chance I would get of seeing what Filmer had brought with him on the train。
Perhaps if I'd tried one…one…five； or five…five…one。。。 or five…one…one； or five…five…five。。。
Nell was sitting alone at a table in the dining car working on her interminable lists （those usually clipped to the clipboard） and I sat down opposite her feeling ashamed of myself。
She glanced up。 'Hello；' she said。
'Hi。'
She considered me。 'You look hot。 Been running？'
I'd been indulging in good heart exercise while sitting still。 I didn't think I would confess。
'Sort of；' I said。 'How's things？'
She glanced sideways with disgust at the Canadian。
'I was just about to go over to the station when that arrived。'
That； as if taking the hint； began quietly to roll； and within twenty seconds； we again had a clear view of the station。 Most of the train's passengers； including Filmer and Daffodil； immediately started across the tracks to reboard。 Among them； aiming for the racegoers' carriages； was gaunt…face。
God in heaven； I thought。 I forgot about him。 I forgot about photographing him。 My wits were scattered。
'What's the matter？' Nell said； watching my face。
'I've earned a D minus。 A double D minus。'
'You probably expect too much of yourself；' she said dispassionately。 'No one's perfect。'
'There are degrees of imperfection。'
'How big is the catastrophe？'
I thought it over more coolly。 Gaunt…face was on the train； and I might have another opportunity。 I could undo one of the latches of Filmer's briefcase and； given time； I might do the other。 Correction： given nerve； I might do the other。
'OK；' I said； 'let's say C minus； could do better。 Still not good。' Millington would have done better。
Zak and Emil arrived together at that point； Emil ready to set the tables for lunch； Zak in theatrical exasperation demanding to know if the actors were to put on the next scene before the meal as originally planned； and if not； when？
Nell looked at her watch and briefly thought。 'Couldn't you postpone it until cocktail time this evening？'
'We're supposed to do the following scene then；' he objected。
'Well。。。 couldn't you run them both together？'
He rather grumpily agreed and went away saying they would have to rehearse。 Nell smiled sweetly at his departing back and asked if I'd ever noticed how important everything was to actors？ Everything except the real world； of course。
'Pussycat；' I said。
'But I have such tiny； indulgent claws。'
Oliver and Cathy arrived and with Emil began spreading tablecloths and setting places。 I got to my feet and helped them； and Nell with teasing amusement watched me fold pink napkins into water lilies and said； 'Well； well； hidden depths；' and I answered； 'You should see my dishwashing；' which were the sort of infantile surface remarks of something we both guessed might suddenly bee serious。 The surface meanwhile was safe and shimmering and funny； and would stay that way until we were ready for change。
As usual； the passengers came early into the dining car； and I faded into the scenery in my uniform and avoided Nell's eyes。
The passengers hadn't over…enjoyed their sojourn in the station； it appeared； as they had been fallen upon by the flock of pressmen who had taken Xanthe back again to the brink of hysteria； and had asked Mercer whether it wasn't unwise to flaunt the privilege of wealth in his private car； and hadn't he invited trouble by adding it to the train。 Indignation on his behalf was thick in the air。 Everyone knew he was public spiritedly on the trip For the Sake of Canadian Racing。
The Lorrimores； all four of them； arrived together to murmurs of sympathy； but the two young ones split off immediately from their parents and from each other； all of them gravitating to their various havens： the parents went to join Filmer and Daffodil of their own free will； Xanthe made a straight piteous line to Mrs Young； and Sheridan grabbed hold of Nell； who was by this time standing； saying that he needed her to sit with him； she was the only decent human being on the whole damn train。
Nell； unsure of the worth of his pliment； nevertheless sat down opposite him； even if temporarily。 Keeping Sheridan on a straight or even a wavy line definitely came into the category of crisis control。
Sheridan had the looks which went with Julius's name； Apollo： he was tall； ha