df.theedge-第3部分

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　　'I'd。。。　er。。。　pencilled　in　lunch；'　he　said　doubtfully。
　　'That　would　be　fine；'　I　said。
　　He　took　me　to　a　similarly　hushed　restaurant　full　of　other　solicitors　who　nodded　to　him　austerely。　Over　roast　beef　he　told　me　that　I　would　never　have　to　work　for　a　living　（which　I　knew）　and　in　the　same　breath　asked　what　I　was　going　to　do　with　my　life；　a　question　I　couldn't　answer。　I'd　spent　seven　years　learning　how　to　live；　which　was　different；　but　I'd　had　no　formal　training　in　anything。　I　felt　claustrophobic　in　offices　and　I　was　not　academic。　I　understood　machines　and　was　quick　with　my　hands。　I　had　no　overpowering　ambitions。　I　wasn't　the　entrepreneur　my　father　had　been；　but　nor　would　I　squander　the　fortune　he　had　left　me。
　　'What　have　you　been　doing？'　old　Cornborough　said；　making　conversation　valiantly。　'You've　been　to　some　interesting　places；　haven't　you？'
　　Travellers'　tales　were　pretty　boring；　I　thought。　It　was　always　better　to　live　it。　'I　mostly　worked　with　horses；'　I　said　politely。　'Australia；　South　America；　United　States；　anywhere。　Racehorses；　polo　ponies；　a　good　deal　in　rodeos。　Once　in　a　circus；　'
　　'Good　heavens。'
　　'It's　not　easy　now；　though；　and　getting　harder；　to　work　one's　passage。　Too　many　countries　won't　allow　it。　And　I　won't　go　back　to　it。　I've　done　enough。　Grown　out　of　it。'
　　'So　what　next？'
　　'Don't　know。'　I　shrugged。　'Look　around。　I'm　not　getting　in　touch　with　my　mother's　people；　so　don't　tell　them　I'm　here。'
　　'If　you　say　so。'
　　My　mother　had　e　from　an　impoverished　hunting　family　who　were　scandalized　when　at　twenty　she　married　a　sixty…five…year…old　giant　of　a　Yorkshireman　with　an　empire　in　second…hand　car　auctions　and　no　relatives　in　Burke's　Peerage。　They'd　said　it　was　because　he　showered　her　with　horses；　but　it　always　sounded　to　me　as　if　she'd　been　truly　attracted。　He　at　any　rate　was　besotted　with　her；　as　his　sister；　my　aunt；　had　often　told　me；　and　he'd　seen　no　point　in　living　after　she　was　killed　in　a　hunting　accident；　when　I　was　two。　He'd　lasted　three　years　and　died　of　cancer；　and　because　my　mother's　family　hadn't　wanted　me；　my　aunt　Viv　Kelsey　had　taken　me　over　and　made　my　young　life　a　delight。
　　To　aunt　Viv；　unmarried；　I　was　the　longed…for　child　she'd　had　no　chance　of　bearing。　She　must　have　been　sixty　when　she　took　me；　though　I　never　thought　of　her　as　old。　She　was　always　young　inside；　and　I　missed　her　dreadfully　when　she　died。
　　Millington's　voice　said；　'The　car　you　are　following。。。　are　you　still　following　it？'
　　'Still　in　sight。'
　　'It's　registered　to　a　Derry　Welfram。　Ever　heard　of　him？'
　　'No。'
　　Millington　still　had　connections　in　the　police　force　and　seemed　to　get　useful　puterized　information　effortlessly。
　　'His　address　is　down　as　Parkway　Mansions；　Maida　Vale；　London；'　he　said。　'If　you　lose　him；　try　there。'
　　'Right。'
　　Derry　Welfram　obligingly　drove　straight　to　Parkway　Mansions　and　others　of　Millington's　minions　later　made　a　positive　identification。　Millington　tried　a　photograph　of　him　on　each　of　the　witnesses　with　the　unreliable　memories　and；　as　he　described　to　me　afterwards；　'They　both　shit　themselves　with　fear　and　stuttered　they'd　never　seen　the　man；　never；　never。'　But　they'd　been　so　effectively　frightened；　both　of　them；　that　Millington　could　get　nothing　out　of　them　at　all。
　　Millington　told　me　to　follow　Derry　Welfram　if　I　saw　him　again　at　the　races；　to　see　who　else　he　talked　to；　which　I'd　been　doing　for　about　a　month　on　the　day　the　navy…suit　fell　on　its　buttons。　Welfram　had　talked　intensely　to　about　ten　people　by　then　and　proved　he　was　prehensively　a　bearer　of　bad　news；　leaving　behind　him　a　trail　of　shocked；　shivering；　hollow…eyed　stares　at　unwele　realities。　And　because　I　had　an　ingenious　camera　built　into　binoculars　（and　another　that　looked　like　a　cigarette　lighter）　we　had　recognizable　portraits　of　most　of　Welfram's　shattered　contacts；　though　so　far　identifications　for　less　than　half。　Millington's　men　were　working　on　it。
　　Millington　had　e　to　the　conclusion　that　Welfram　was　a　frightener　hired　to　shake　out　bad　debts：　a　rent…a…thug　in　general；　not　solely　Filmer's　man。　I　had　seen　him　speak　to　Filmer　only　once　since　the　first　occasion；　which　didn't　mean　he　hadn't　done　so　more　often。　There　were　usually　race　meetings　at　three　of　more　different　courses　in　England　each　day；　and　it　was　a　toss…up；　sometimes；　to　guess　where　either　of　the　quarries　would　go。　Filmer；　moreover；　went　racing　less　often　than　Welfram；　two　or　three　times　a　week　at　most。　Filmer　had　shares　in　a　great　many　horses　and　usually　went　where　they　ran；　and　I　checked　their　destinations　every　morning　in　the　racing　press。
　　The　problem　with　Filmer　was　not　what　he　did；　but　catching　him　doing　it。　At　first　sight；　second　sight；　third　sight　he　did　nothing　wrong。　He　bought　racehorses；　put　them　in　training；　went　to　watch　them　run；　enjoyed　all　the　pleasures　of　an　owner。　It　was　only　gradually；　over　the　ten　years　since　Filmer　had　appeared　on　the　scene；　that　there　had　been　eyebrows　raised；　frowns　of　disbelief；　mouths　pursed　in　puzzlement。
　　Filmer　bought　horses　occasionally　at　auction　through　an　agent　or　a　trainer　but　chiefly　acquired　them　by　deals　struck　in　private；　a　perfectly　proper　procedure。　Any　owner　was　always　at　liberty　to　sell　his　horses　to　anyone　else。　The　surprising　thing　about　some　of　Filmer's　acquisitions　was　that　no　one　would　have　expected　the　former　owner　to　sell　the　horse　at　all。
　　I　had　been　briefed　about　him　by　Millington　during　my　first　few　weeks　in　the　Service；　but　then　only　as　someone　to　be　generally　aware　of；　not　as　a　number　one　priority。
　　'He　leans　on　people；'　Millington　said。　'We're　sure　of　it；　but　we　don't　know　how。　He's　much　too　fly　to　do　anything　where　we　can　see　him。　Don't　think　you'll　catch　him　handing　out　bunches　of　money　for　information；　nothing　crude　like　that。　Look　for　people　who're　nervous　when　he's　near；　right？'
　　'Right。'
　　I　had　spotted　a　few　of　those。　Both　of　the　trainers　who　trained　his　horses　treated　him　with　caution；　and　most　of　the　jockeys　who　rode　them　shook　his　hand　with　their　fingertips。　The　Press；　who　knew　they　wouldn't　answer　questions；　hardly　bothered　to　ask　them。　A　deferential　decorative　girlfriend　jumped　when　he　said　jump；　and　the　male　panion　frequently　in　attendance　fairly　scuttled。　Yet　there　was　nothing　visibly　boorish　about　his　general　manner　at　the　races。　He　smiled　at　appropriate　moments；　nodded　congratulations　to　other　owners　in　the　winners'　enclosures　and　patted　his　horses　when　they　pleased　him。
　　He　was　in　person　forty…eight；　heavy；　about　five　foot　ten　in　height。　Millington　said　the　weight　was　mostly　muscle；　as　Filmer　spent　time　three　days　a　week　raising　a　sweat　in　a　gym。　Above　the　muscle　there　was　a　well…shaped　head；　large　flat　ears　and　thick　black　hair　flecked　with　grey。　I　hadn't　been　near　enough　to　see　the　colour　of　his　eyes；　but　Millington　had　them　down　as　greenish　brown。
　　Rather　to　Millington's　annoyance　I　refused　to　follow　Filmer　about　much。　For　one　thing；　in　the　end　he　would　have　been　certain　to　have　spotted　me；　and　for　another　it　wasn't　necessary。　Filmer　was　a　creature　of　habit；　moving　from　car　to　lunch　to　bookmaker　to　grandstand　to　paddock　at　foreseeable　intervals。　At　each　track　he　had　a　favourite　place　to　watch　the　races　from；　a　favourite　vantage　point　overlooking　the　parade　ring　and　a　favourite　bar　where　hedrank　lager　mostly　and　plied　the　girlfriend　with　vodka。　He　rented　a　private　box　at　two　racecourses　and　was　on　the　waiting　list　at　several　more；　where　his　aim　seemed　to　be　seclusion　rather　than　the　lavish　entertainment　of　friends。
　　He　had　been　born　on　the　Isle　of　Man；　that　tax…haven　rock　out　of　sight　of　England　in　the　stormy　Irish　Sea；　and　had　been　brought　up　in　a　munity　stuffed　with　millionaires　fleeing　the　fleecing　taxes　of　the　mainland。　His　father　had　been　a　wily　fixer　admired　for　fleecing　the　fled。　Young　Julius　Apollo　Filmer　（his　real　name）　had　learned　well　and　outstripped　his　father　in　rich　pickings　until　he'd　left　home　for　wider　shores；　and　that　was　the　point；　Millington　said　gloomily；　at　which　they　had　lost　him。　Filmer　had　turned　up　on　racecourses　sixteen　or　so　years　later　giving　his　occupation　as　'pany　director'　and　maintaining　a　total　silence　about　his　source　of　considerable　ine。
　　During　the　run…up