Emil, Oliver, Cathy and I set the tables for lunch and served its three courses. Filmer didn't materialize, but Daffodil did, still shaken and angry as at breakfast. Her suitcase was packed, it appeared, and she was adamant about leaving the party at Calgary. No one, it seemed, had been able to find out from her exactly what the matter was, and the lovers' tiff explanation had gained ground.

I served wine carefully and listened, but it was the appealing prospect of two days in the mountains rather than Daffodil's troubles that filled most of the minds.

When Calgary appeared like sharp white needles on the prairie horizon and everyone began pointing excitedly, I told Emil I would do my best to return for the dishwashing and sloped off up the train to George's office.

Would the credit-card telephone work in Calgary? Yes, it would. He waved me towards it as the train slowed and told me I'd got fifty minutes. He himself, as usual, would be outside, supervising.

I got through to Mrs Baudelaire, who sounded carefree and sixteen.

'Your photograph is on its way,' she said without preamble. 'But it won't get to Calgary in time. Someone will be driving from Calgary to Chateau Lake Louise later this afternoon, and they are going to take it to your Miss Richmond.'

'That's great,' I said. 'Thank you.'

'But I'm afraid there's been no word from Val Catto about your numbers.'

'It can't be helped.'

'Anything else?' she asked.

'Yes,' I said. 'I need to talk to Bill direct.'

'What a shame. I've been enjoying this.'

'Oh,' I said. 'Please… so have I. It's only that it's more than a message and question and answer. It's long… and complicated.'

'My dear young man, don't apologize. Bill was still in Winnipeg ten minutes ago. I'll call him straight away. Do you have a number?'

'Um, yes.' I read her the number on the train's handset. 'The sooner the better, would you tell him?'

'Talk to you later,' she said, and went away.

I waited restlessly through ten wasted minutes before the phone rang.

Bill's deep voice reverberated in my ear. 'Where are you?'

'On the train in Calgary station.'

'My mother says it's urgent.'

'Yes, but chiefly because this cellular telephone is in the Conductor's office and only works in cities.'

'Understood,' he said. 'Fire away.'

I told him about Daffodil's departure and Lenny Higgs's frightened collapse; about what she had not said, and he had.

Bill Baudelaire at length demanded, 'Have I got this straight? This Lenny Higgs said Daffodil Quentin got him to give her horse something to eat, from which the horse got colic and died?'

'Strong supposition of cause and effect, but unprovable, I should think.'

'Yes. They had an autopsy and couldn't find what caused the colic. It was the third of her dead horses. The insurers were very suspicious, but they had to pay.'

'Lenny says she told him she would never do any harm to her darling horses, but she gave him a hundred dollars to keep quiet.'

Bill groaned.

'But,' I said, 'it might have been because she'd had two dead horses already and she was afraid everyone would think exactly what they did think anyway.'

'I suppose so,' he said. 'So where are we now?'

'Going on past experience,' I said, 'I would think-and this is just guessing-that after midnight last night, our quarry told Daffodil that her groom had spilled the beans, and would spill them again to order in public, and that he would see she was warned off at the very least if she didn't sell him… or give him… her remaining share in Laurentide Ice.'

He said gloomily, 'You all know him better than I do, but on form I'd think you may be right We'll know for sure, won't we, if he applies to change the partnership registration before the Vancouver race.'

'Mm,' I agreed. 'Well, if you-the Ontario Racing Commission-feel like giving Daffodil the benefit of the doubt over her horses… and of course you know her better than I do, but it seems to me she may not be intentionally wicked, but more silly… I mean there's something immature about her, for all her fifty years or so… and some people don't think it's all that wicked to defraud insurance companies, perfectly respectable people sometimes do it… and I believe all three horses would have been put down sooner than later, wouldn't they? Anyway, I'm not excusing her if she's guilty, but explaining how she might feel about it…'

'You've got to know her remarkably well.'

'Er… I've just… noticed…'

'Mm,' he said dryly. 'Val Catto said you notice things.'

'Well… I, er, don't know how you feel about this, but I thought that if we spirited Lenny Higgs away, sort of, he wouldn't be around to be threatened, or to be a threat to Daffodil, and if you could tell her somehow that Lenny Higgs had vanished and will not be spilling any beans whatsoever… if you could square it with your conscience to do that… then she doesn't need to part with her half-share and we will have foiled at least one of our quarry's rotten schemes. And that's my brief, isn't it?'

He breathed out lengthily, as a whistle. I held the line and waited.

'Is Lenny Higgs still on the train?' he asked eventually.

'Unless he panics, he's going with the other grooms and horses to their stabling here. I told him someone would come to fetch him and look after him and give him a free ticket to wherever he wants to go.'

'Now, hold on…'

'It's the least we can do. But I think we should follow it up, and positively know his exact ultimate destination, even fix him up with a job, because we in our turn may want him to give evidence against the man who frightened him. If we do, we don't want to have to find him worldwide. And if you can send someone to help him, get them to take along a copy of the photo you've had printed for me, because I'm pretty certain that's the man who frightened him. Lenny should turn to jelly, if it is.'

There was unfortunately a fair amount of dishwashing still to do when I returned to the kitchen so I lent a slightly guilty hand but kept walking out with glasses and cloths into the dining car so that I could see what was going on outside the windows.

Daffodil, attended by Nell and Rose and Cumber Young (he carrying her two suitcases), was helped down from the dome car by station staff and went off slowly into the main part of the station Daffodil's curls were piled as perkily high as usual but her shoulders drooped inside the chinchillas, and the glimpse I had of her face showed a forlorn lost-child expression rather than a virago bent on revenge. Nell was being helpful. Rose Young exuded comfort. Cumber Young looked grim.

'Are you drying glasses or are you not?' Cathy demanded. She was pretty, bright-eyed and quick, and also, at that moment, tired.

'Intermittently,' I said.

Her momentary ill-temper dissolved. 'Then get an intermittent move on or I won't be able to go over to the station before we leave.'

'Right,' I said, and dried and polished several glasses devotedly.

Cathy giggled. 'How long are you going to keep this up?'

'To the end, I guess.'

'But when is your scene?'

'Ah…' I said, 'that's the trouble. Right at the end. So I'll be drying dishes to Vancouver.'

'Are you the murderer?' she asked teasingly.

'Most definitely not.'

'The last time we had an actor pretending to be a waiter, he was the murderer.'

'The murderer,' I said, 'is that passenger you give the best portions to. That good-looking single man who's nice to everyone.'

Her eyes stretched wide. 'He's an owner,' she said.

'He's an actor. And don't give him away.'

'Of course I won't.' She looked slightly dreamy-eyed, though, as if I'd passed on good news. I didn't like to disillusion her about her or any girl's prospects with the gorgeous Giles; she would find out soon enough.