kleines weißes badezimmer

chapter sixthe adventure of the bald archaeologist i spent the night on a shelf of thehillside, in the lee of a boulder where the heather grew long and soft.it was a cold business, for i had neither coat nor waistcoat. these were in mr turnbull's keeping, as wasscudder's little book, my watch and--worst of all--my pipe and tobacco pouch. only my money accompanied me in my belt,and about half a pound of ginger biscuits in my trousers pocket. i supped off half those biscuits, and byworming myself deep into the heather got

some kind of warmth.my spirits had risen, and i was beginning to enjoy this crazy game of hide-and-seek. so far i had been miraculously lucky.the milkman, the literary innkeeper, sir harry, the roadman, and the idiotic marmie,were all pieces of undeserved good fortune. somehow the first success gave me a feelingthat i was going to pull the thing through. my chief trouble was that i was desperatelyhungry. when a jew shoots himself in the city andthere is an inquest, the newspapers usually report that the deceased was 'well-nourished'. i remember thinking that they would notcall me well-nourished if i broke my neck

in a bog-hole. i lay and tortured myself--for the gingerbiscuits merely emphasized the aching void- -with the memory of all the good food i hadthought so little of in london. there were paddock's crisp sausages andfragrant shavings of bacon, and shapely poached eggs--how often i had turned up mynose at them! there were the cutlets they did at theclub, and a particular ham that stood on the cold table, for which my soul lusted. my thoughts hovered over all varieties ofmortal edible, and finally settled on a porterhouse steak and a quart of bitterwith a welsh rabbit to follow.

in longing hopelessly for these dainties ifell asleep. i woke very cold and stiff about an hourafter dawn. it took me a little while to remember wherei was, for i had been very weary and had slept heavily. i saw first the pale blue sky through a netof heather, then a big shoulder of hill, and then my own boots placed neatly in ablaeberry bush. i raised myself on my arms and looked downinto the valley, and that one look set me lacing up my boots in mad haste. for there were men below, not more than aquarter of a mile off, spaced out on the

hillside like a fan, and beating theheather. marmie had not been slow in looking for hisrevenge. i crawled out of my shelf into the cover ofa boulder, and from it gained a shallow trench which slanted up the mountain face. this led me presently into the narrow gullyof a burn, by way of which i scrambled to the top of the ridge.from there i looked back, and saw that i was still undiscovered. my pursuers were patiently quartering thehillside and moving upwards. keeping behind the skyline i ran for maybehalf a mile, till i judged i was above the

uppermost end of the glen. then i showed myself, and was instantlynoted by one of the flankers, who passed the word to the others. i heard cries coming up from below, and sawthat the line of search had changed its direction. i pretended to retreat over the skyline,but instead went back the way i had come, and in twenty minutes was behind the ridgeoverlooking my sleeping place. from that viewpoint i had the satisfactionof seeing the pursuit streaming up the hill at the top of the glen on a hopelesslyfalse scent.

i had before me a choice of routes, and ichose a ridge which made an angle with the one i was on, and so would soon put a deepglen between me and my enemies. the exercise had warmed my blood, and i wasbeginning to enjoy myself amazingly. as i went i breakfasted on the dustyremnants of the ginger biscuits. i knew very little about the country, and ihadn't a notion what i was going to do. i trusted to the strength of my legs, but iwas well aware that those behind me would be familiar with the lie of the land, andthat my ignorance would be a heavy handicap. i saw in front of me a sea of hills, risingvery high towards the south, but northwards

breaking down into broad ridges whichseparated wide and shallow dales. the ridge i had chosen seemed to sink aftera mile or two to a moor which lay like a pocket in the uplands.that seemed as good a direction to take as any other. my stratagem had given me a fair start--call it twenty minutes--and i had the width of a glen behind me before i saw the firstheads of the pursuers. the police had evidently called in localtalent to their aid, and the men i could see had the appearance of herds orgamekeepers. they hallooed at the sight of me, and iwaved my hand.

two dived into the glen and began to climbmy ridge, while the others kept their own side of the hill. i felt as if i were taking part in aschoolboy game of hare and hounds. but very soon it began to seem less of agame. those fellows behind were hefty men ontheir native heath. looking back i saw that only three werefollowing direct, and i guessed that the others had fetched a circuit to cut me off. my lack of local knowledge might very wellbe my undoing, and i resolved to get out of this tangle of glens to the pocket of moori had seen from the tops.

i must so increase my distance as to getclear away from them, and i believed i could do this if i could find the rightground for it. if there had been cover i would have trieda bit of stalking, but on these bare slopes you could see a fly a mile off. my hope must be in the length of my legsand the soundness of my wind, but i needed easier ground for that, for i was not breda mountaineer. how i longed for a good afrikander pony! i put on a great spurt and got off my ridgeand down into the moor before any figures appeared on the skyline behind me.

i crossed a burn, and came out on ahighroad which made a pass between two glens. all in front of me was a big field ofheather sloping up to a crest which was crowned with an odd feather of trees. in the dyke by the roadside was a gate,from which a grass-grown track led over the first wave of the moor. i jumped the dyke and followed it, andafter a few hundred yards--as soon as it was out of sight of the highway--the grassstopped and it became a very respectable road, which was evidently kept with somecare.

clearly it ran to a house, and i began tothink of doing the same. hitherto my luck had held, and it might bethat my best chance would be found in this remote dwelling.anyhow there were trees there, and that meant cover. i did not follow the road, but the burnsidewhich flanked it on the right, where the bracken grew deep and the high banks made atolerable screen. it was well i did so, for no sooner had igained the hollow than, looking back, i saw the pursuit topping the ridge from which ihad descended. after that i did not look back; i had notime.

i ran up the burnside, crawling over theopen places, and for a large part wading in the shallow stream. i found a deserted cottage with a row ofphantom peat-stacks and an overgrown garden. then i was among young hay, and very soonhad come to the edge of a plantation of wind-blown firs.from there i saw the chimneys of the house smoking a few hundred yards to my left. i forsook the burnside, crossed anotherdyke, and almost before i knew was on a rough lawn.

a glance back told me that i was well outof sight of the pursuit, which had not yet passed the first lift of the moor. the lawn was a very rough place, cut with ascythe instead of a mower, and planted with beds of scrubby rhododendrons.a brace of black-game, which are not usually garden birds, rose at my approach. the house before me was the ordinarymoorland farm, with a more pretentious whitewashed wing added. attached to this wing was a glass veranda,and through the glass i saw the face of an elderly gentleman meekly watching me.i stalked over the border of coarse hill

gravel and entered the open veranda door. within was a pleasant room, glass on oneside, and on the other a mass of books. more books showed in an inner room. on the floor, instead of tables, stoodcases such as you see in a museum, filled with coins and queer stone implements. there was a knee-hole desk in the middle,and seated at it, with some papers and open volumes before him, was the benevolent oldgentleman. his face was round and shiny, like mrpickwick's, big glasses were stuck on the end of his nose, and the top of his headwas as bright and bare as a glass bottle.

he never moved when i entered, but raisedhis placid eyebrows and waited on me to speak. it was not an easy job, with about fiveminutes to spare, to tell a stranger who i was and what i wanted, and to win his aid.i did not attempt it. there was something about the eye of theman before me, something so keen and knowledgeable, that i could not find aword. i simply stared at him and stuttered. 'you seem in a hurry, my friend,'he saidslowly. i nodded towards the window.

it gave a prospect across the moor througha gap in the plantation, and revealed certain figures half a mile off stragglingthrough the heather. 'ah, i see,' he said, and took up a pair offield-glasses through which he patiently scrutinized the figures.'a fugitive from justice, eh? well, we'll go into the matter at ourleisure. meantime i object to my privacy beingbroken in upon by the clumsy rural policeman. go into my study, and you will see twodoors facing you. take the one on the left and close itbehind you.

you will be perfectly safe.' and this extraordinary man took up his penagain. i did as i was bid, and found myself in alittle dark chamber which smelt of chemicals, and was lit only by a tinywindow high up in the wall. the door had swung behind me with a clicklike the door of a safe. once again i had found an unexpectedsanctuary. all the same i was not comfortable. there was something about the old gentlemanwhich puzzled and rather terrified me. he had been too easy and ready, almost asif he had expected me.

and his eyes had been horribly intelligent. no sound came to me in that dark place.for all i knew the police might be searching the house, and if they did theywould want to know what was behind this door. i tried to possess my soul in patience, andto forget how hungry i was. then i took a more cheerful view. the old gentleman could scarcely refuse mea meal, and i fell to reconstructing my breakfast. bacon and eggs would content me, but iwanted the better part of a flitch of bacon

and half a hundred eggs. and then, while my mouth was watering inanticipation, there was a click and the door stood open. i emerged into the sunlight to find themaster of the house sitting in a deep armchair in the room he called his study,and regarding me with curious eyes. 'have they gone?' i asked.'they have gone. i convinced them that you had crossed thehill. i do not choose that the police should comebetween me and one whom i am delighted to

honour.this is a lucky morning for you, mr richard hannay.' as he spoke his eyelids seemed to trembleand to fall a little over his keen grey eyes. in a flash the phrase of scudder's cameback to me, when he had described the man he most dreaded in the world.he had said that he 'could hood his eyes like a hawk'. then i saw that i had walked straight intothe enemy's headquarters. my first impulse was to throttle the oldruffian and make for the open air.

he seemed to anticipate my intention, forhe smiled gently, and nodded to the door behind me.i turned, and saw two men-servants who had me covered with pistols. he knew my name, but he had never seen mebefore. and as the reflection darted across my mindi saw a slender chance. 'i don't know what you mean,' i saidroughly. 'and who are you calling richard hannay?my name's ainslie.' 'so?' he said, still smiling. 'but of course you have others.we won't quarrel about a name.'

i was pulling myself together now, and ireflected that my garb, lacking coat and waistcoat and collar, would at any rate notbetray me. i put on my surliest face and shrugged myshoulders. 'i suppose you're going to give me up afterall, and i call it a damned dirty trick. my god, i wish i had never seen that cursedmotor-car! here's the money and be damned to you,' andi flung four sovereigns on the table. he opened his eyes a little. 'oh no, i shall not give you up.my friends and i will have a little private settlement with you, that is all.you know a little too much, mr hannay.

you are a clever actor, but not quiteclever enough.' he spoke with assurance, but i could seethe dawning of a doubt in his mind. 'oh, for god's sake stop jawing,' i cried. 'everything's against me.i haven't had a bit of luck since i came on shore at leith. what's the harm in a poor devil with anempty stomach picking up some money he finds in a bust-up motor-car? that's all i done, and for that i've beenchivvied for two days by those blasted bobbies over those blasted hills.i tell you i'm fair sick of it.

you can do what you like, old boy! ned ainslie's got no fight left in him.'i could see that the doubt was gaining. 'will you oblige me with the story of yourrecent doings?'he asked. 'i can't, guv'nor,' i said in a realbeggar's whine. 'i've not had a bite to eat for two days.give me a mouthful of food, and then you'll hear god's truth.' i must have showed my hunger in my face,for he signalled to one of the men in the doorway. a bit of cold pie was brought and a glassof beer, and i wolfed them down like a pig-

-or rather, like ned ainslie, for i waskeeping up my character. in the middle of my meal he spoke suddenlyto me in german, but i turned on him a face as blank as a stone wall. then i told him my story--how i had comeoff an archangel ship at leith a week ago, and was making my way overland to mybrother at wigtown. i had run short of cash--i hinted vaguelyat a spree--and i was pretty well on my uppers when i had come on a hole in ahedge, and, looking through, had seen a big motor-car lying in the burn. i had poked about to see what had happened,and had found three sovereigns lying on the

seat and one on the floor.there was nobody there or any sign of an owner, so i had pocketed the cash. but somehow the law had got after me. when i had tried to change a sovereign in abaker's shop, the woman had cried on the police, and a little later, when i waswashing my face in a burn, i had been nearly gripped, and had only got away byleaving my coat and waistcoat behind me. 'they can have the money back,' i cried,'for a fat lot of good it's done me. those perishers are all down on a poor man. now, if it had been you, guv'nor, that hadfound the quids, nobody would have troubled

you.''you're a good liar, hannay,' he said. i flew into a rage. 'stop fooling, damn you!i tell you my name's ainslie, and i never heard of anyone called hannay in my borndays. i'd sooner have the police than you withyour hannays and your monkey-faced pistol tricks ...no, guv'nor, i beg pardon, i don't mean that. i'm much obliged to you for the grub, andi'll thank you to let me go now the coast's clear.'it was obvious that he was badly puzzled.

you see he had never seen me, and myappearance must have altered considerably from my photographs, if he had got one ofthem. i was pretty smart and well dressed inlondon, and now i was a regular tramp. 'i do not propose to let you go.if you are what you say you are, you will soon have a chance of clearing yourself. if you are what i believe you are, i do notthink you will see the light much longer.' he rang a bell, and a third servantappeared from the veranda. 'i want the lanchester in five minutes,' hesaid. 'there will be three to luncheon.'then he looked steadily at me, and that was

the hardest ordeal of all. there was something weird and devilish inthose eyes, cold, malignant, unearthly, and most hellishly clever.they fascinated me like the bright eyes of a snake. i had a strong impulse to throw myself onhis mercy and offer to join his side, and if you consider the way i felt about thewhole thing you will see that that impulse must have been purely physical, the weakness of a brain mesmerized and masteredby a stronger spirit. but i managed to stick it out and even togrin.

'you'll know me next time, guv'nor,' isaid. 'karl,' he spoke in german to one of themen in the doorway, 'you will put this fellow in the storeroom till i return, andyou will be answerable to me for his keeping.' i was marched out of the room with a pistolat each ear. the storeroom was a damp chamber in whathad been the old farmhouse. there was no carpet on the uneven floor,and nothing to sit down on but a school form.it was black as pitch, for the windows were heavily shuttered.

i made out by groping that the walls werelined with boxes and barrels and sacks of some heavy stuff.the whole place smelt of mould and disuse. my gaolers turned the key in the door, andi could hear them shifting their feet as they stood on guard outside.i sat down in that chilly darkness in a very miserable frame of mind. the old boy had gone off in a motor tocollect the two ruffians who had interviewed me yesterday. now, they had seen me as the roadman, andthey would remember me, for i was in the same rig.what was a roadman doing twenty miles from

his beat, pursued by the police? a question or two would put them on thetrack. probably they had seen mr turnbull,probably marmie too; most likely they could link me up with sir harry, and then thewhole thing would be crystal clear. what chance had i in this moorland housewith three desperadoes and their armed servants? i began to think wistfully of the police,now plodding over the hills after my wraith. they at any rate were fellow-countrymen andhonest men, and their tender mercies would

be kinder than these ghoulish aliens.but they wouldn't have listened to me. that old devil with the eyelids had nottaken long to get rid of them. i thought he probably had some kind ofgraft with the constabulary. most likely he had letters from cabinetministers saying he was to be given every facility for plotting against britain.that's the sort of owlish way we run our politics in the old country. the three would be back for lunch, so ihadn't more than a couple of hours to wait. it was simply waiting on destruction, for icould see no way out of this mess. i wished that i had scudder's courage, fori am free to confess i didn't feel any

great fortitude.the only thing that kept me going was that i was pretty furious. it made me boil with rage to think of thosethree spies getting the pull on me like this. i hoped that at any rate i might be able totwist one of their necks before they downed me. the more i thought of it the angrier igrew, and i had to get up and move about the room. i tried the shutters, but they were thekind that lock with a key, and i couldn't

move them.from the outside came the faint clucking of hens in the warm sun. then i groped among the sacks and boxes.i couldn't open the latter, and the sacks seemed to be full of things like dog-biscuits that smelt of cinnamon. but, as i circumnavigated the room, i founda handle in the wall which seemed worth investigating. it was the door of a wall cupboard--whatthey call a 'press' in scotland--and it was locked.i shook it, and it seemed rather flimsy. for want of something better to do i putout my strength on that door, getting some

purchase on the handle by looping my bracesround it. presently the thing gave with a crash whichi thought would bring in my warders to inquire.i waited for a bit, and then started to explore the cupboard shelves. there was a multitude of queer thingsthere. i found an odd vesta or two in my trouserpockets and struck a light. it was out in a second, but it showed meone thing. there was a little stock of electrictorches on one shelf. i picked up one, and found it was inworking order.

with the torch to help me i investigatedfurther. there were bottles and cases of queer-smelling stuffs, chemicals no doubt for experiments, and there were coils of finecopper wire and yanks and yanks of thin oiled silk. there was a box of detonators, and a lot ofcord for fuses. then away at the back of the shelf i founda stout brown cardboard box, and inside it a wooden case. i managed to wrench it open, and within layhalf a dozen little grey bricks, each a couple of inches square.i took up one, and found that it crumbled

easily in my hand. then i smelt it and put my tongue to it.after that i sat down to think. i hadn't been a mining engineer fornothing, and i knew lentonite when i saw it. with one of these bricks i could blow thehouse to smithereens. i had used the stuff in rhodesia and knewits power. but the trouble was that my knowledgewasn't exact. i had forgotten the proper charge and theright way of preparing it, and i wasn't sure about the timing.

i had only a vague notion, too, as to itspower, for though i had used it i had not handled it with my own fingers.but it was a chance, the only possible chance. it was a mighty risk, but against it was anabsolute black certainty. if i used it the odds were, as i reckoned,about five to one in favour of my blowing myself into the tree-tops; but if i didn'ti should very likely be occupying a six- foot hole in the garden by the evening. that was the way i had to look at it.the prospect was pretty dark either way, but anyhow there was a chance, both formyself and for my country.

the remembrance of little scudder decidedme. it was about the beastliest moment of mylife, for i'm no good at these cold-blooded resolutions. still i managed to rake up the pluck to setmy teeth and choke back the horrid doubts that flooded in on me. i simply shut off my mind and pretended iwas doing an experiment as simple as guy fawkes fireworks.i got a detonator, and fixed it to a couple of feet of fuse. then i took a quarter of a lentonite brick,and buried it near the door below one of

the sacks in a crack of the floor, fixingthe detonator in it. for all i knew half those boxes might bedynamite. if the cupboard held such deadlyexplosives, why not the boxes? in that case there would be a gloriousskyward journey for me and the german servants and about an acre of surroundingcountry. there was also the risk that the detonationmight set off the other bricks in the cupboard, for i had forgotten most that iknew about lentonite. but it didn't do to begin thinking aboutthe possibilities. the odds were horrible, but i had to takethem.

i ensconced myself just below the sill ofthe window, and lit the fuse. then i waited for a moment or two. there was dead silence--only a shuffle ofheavy boots in the passage, and the peaceful cluck of hens from the warm out-of-doors. i commended my soul to my maker, andwondered where i would be in five seconds ... a great wave of heat seemed to surgeupwards from the floor, and hang for a blistering instant in the air. then the wall opposite me flashed into agolden yellow and dissolved with a rending

thunder that hammered my brain into a pulp.something dropped on me, catching the point of my left shoulder. and then i think i became unconscious.my stupor can scarcely have lasted beyond a few seconds. i felt myself being choked by thick yellowfumes, and struggled out of the debris to my feet.somewhere behind me i felt fresh air. the jambs of the window had fallen, andthrough the ragged rent the smoke was pouring out to the summer noon. i stepped over the broken lintel, and foundmyself standing in a yard in a dense and

acrid fog. i felt very sick and ill, but i could movemy limbs, and i staggered blindly forward away from the house. a small mill-lade ran in a wooden aqueductat the other side of the yard, and into this i fell.the cool water revived me, and i had just enough wits left to think of escape. i squirmed up the lade among the slipperygreen slime till i reached the mill-wheel. then i wriggled through the axle hole intothe old mill and tumbled on to a bed of chaff.

a nail caught the seat of my trousers, andi left a wisp of heather-mixture behind me. the mill had been long out of use. the ladders were rotten with age, and inthe loft the rats had gnawed great holes in the floor. nausea shook me, and a wheel in my headkept turning, while my left shoulder and arm seemed to be stricken with the palsy. i looked out of the window and saw a fogstill hanging over the house and smoke escaping from an upper window. please god i had set the place on fire, fori could hear confused cries coming from the

other side.but i had no time to linger, since this mill was obviously a bad hiding-place. anyone looking for me would naturallyfollow the lade, and i made certain the search would begin as soon as they foundthat my body was not in the storeroom. from another window i saw that on the farside of the mill stood an old stone dovecot. if i could get there without leaving tracksi might find a hiding-place, for i argued that my enemies, if they thought i couldmove, would conclude i had made for open country, and would go seeking me on themoor.

i crawled down the broken ladder,scattering chaff behind me to cover my footsteps. i did the same on the mill floor, and onthe threshold where the door hung on broken hinges. peeping out, i saw that between me and thedovecot was a piece of bare cobbled ground, where no footmarks would show.also it was mercifully hid by the mill buildings from any view from the house. i slipped across the space, got to the backof the dovecot and prospected a way of ascent.that was one of the hardest jobs i ever

took on. my shoulder and arm ached like hell, and iwas so sick and giddy that i was always on the verge of falling.but i managed it somehow. by the use of out-jutting stones and gapsin the masonry and a tough ivy root i got to the top in the end.there was a little parapet behind which i found space to lie down. then i proceeded to go off into an old-fashioned swoon. i woke with a burning head and the sunglaring in my face. for a long time i lay motionless, for thosehorrible fumes seemed to have loosened my

joints and dulled my brain. sounds came to me from the house--menspeaking throatily and the throbbing of a stationary car. there was a little gap in the parapet towhich i wriggled, and from which i had some sort of prospect of the yard. i saw figures come out--a servant with hishead bound up, and then a younger man in knickerbockers.they were looking for something, and moved towards the mill. then one of them caught sight of the wispof cloth on the nail, and cried out to the

other.they both went back to the house, and brought two more to look at it. i saw the rotund figure of my late captor,and i thought i made out the man with the lisp.i noticed that all had pistols. for half an hour they ransacked the mill. i could hear them kicking over the barrelsand pulling up the rotten planking. then they came outside, and stood justbelow the dovecot arguing fiercely. the servant with the bandage was beingsoundly rated. i heard them fiddling with the door of thedovecote and for one horrid moment i

fancied they were coming up. then they thought better of it, and wentback to the house. all that long blistering afternoon i laybaking on the rooftop. thirst was my chief torment. my tongue was like a stick, and to make itworse i could hear the cool drip of water from the mill-lade. i watched the course of the little streamas it came in from the moor, and my fancy followed it to the top of the glen, whereit must issue from an icy fountain fringed with cool ferns and mosses.

i would have given a thousand pounds toplunge my face into that. i had a fine prospect of the whole ring ofmoorland. i saw the car speed away with twooccupants, and a man on a hill pony riding east.i judged they were looking for me, and i wished them joy of their quest. but i saw something else more interesting.the house stood almost on the summit of a swell of moorland which crowned a sort ofplateau, and there was no higher point nearer than the big hills six miles off. the actual summit, as i have mentioned, wasa biggish clump of trees--firs mostly, with

a few ashes and beeches. on the dovecot i was almost on a level withthe tree-tops, and could see what lay beyond. the wood was not solid, but only a ring,and inside was an oval of green turf, for all the world like a big cricket-field.i didn't take long to guess what it was. it was an aerodrome, and a secret one. the place had been most cunningly chosen.for suppose anyone were watching an aeroplane descending here, he would thinkit had gone over the hill beyond the trees. as the place was on the top of a rise inthe midst of a big amphitheatre, any

observer from any direction would concludeit had passed out of view behind the hill. only a man very close at hand would realizethat the aeroplane had not gone over but had descended in the midst of the wood. an observer with a telescope on one of thehigher hills might have discovered the truth, but only herds went there, and herdsdo not carry spy-glasses. when i looked from the dovecot i could seefar away a blue line which i knew was the sea, and i grew furious to think that ourenemies had this secret conning-tower to rake our waterways. then i reflected that if that aeroplanecame back the chances were ten to one that

i would be discovered. so through the afternoon i lay and prayedfor the coming of darkness, and glad i was when the sun went down over the big westernhills and the twilight haze crept over the moor. the aeroplane was late.the gloaming was far advanced when i heard the beat of wings and saw it volplaningdownward to its home in the wood. lights twinkled for a bit and there wasmuch coming and going from the house. then the dark fell, and silence.thank god it was a black night. the moon was well on its last quarter andwould not rise till late.

my thirst was too great to allow me totarry, so about nine o'clock, so far as i could judge, i started to descend. it wasn't easy, and half-way down i heardthe back door of the house open, and saw the gleam of a lantern against the millwall. for some agonizing minutes i hung by theivy and prayed that whoever it was would not come round by the dovecot. then the light disappeared, and i droppedas softly as i could on to the hard soil of the yard. i crawled on my belly in the lee of a stonedyke till i reached the fringe of trees

which surrounded the house. if i had known how to do it i would havetried to put that aeroplane out of action, but i realized that any attempt wouldprobably be futile. i was pretty certain that there would besome kind of defence round the house, so i went through the wood on hands and knees,feeling carefully every inch before me. it was as well, for presently i came on awire about two feet from the ground. if i had tripped over that, it woulddoubtless have rung some bell in the house and i would have been captured. a hundred yards farther on i found anotherwire cunningly placed on the edge of a

small stream.beyond that lay the moor, and in five minutes i was deep in bracken and heather. soon i was round the shoulder of the rise,in the little glen from which the mill-lade flowed. ten minutes later my face was in thespring, and i was soaking down pints of the blessed water. but i did not stop till i had put half adozen miles between me and that accursed dwelling. >

chapter seventhe dry-fly fisherman i sat down on a hill-top and took stock ofmy position. i wasn't feeling very happy, for my naturalthankfulness at my escape was clouded by my severe bodily discomfort. those lentonite fumes had fairly poisonedme, and the baking hours on the dovecot hadn't helped matters.i had a crushing headache, and felt as sick as a cat. also my shoulder was in a bad way.at first i thought it was only a bruise, but it seemed to be swelling, and i had nouse of my left arm.

my plan was to seek mr turnbull's cottage,recover my garments, and especially scudder's note-book, and then make for themain line and get back to the south. it seemed to me that the sooner i got intouch with the foreign office man, sir walter bullivant, the better.i didn't see how i could get more proof than i had got already. he must just take or leave my story, andanyway, with him i would be in better hands than those devilish germans.i had begun to feel quite kindly towards the british police. it was a wonderful starry night, and i hadnot much difficulty about the road.

sir harry's map had given me the lie of theland, and all i had to do was to steer a point or two west of south-west to come tothe stream where i had met the roadman. in all these travels i never knew the namesof the places, but i believe this stream was no less than the upper waters of theriver tweed. i calculated i must be about eighteen milesdistant, and that meant i could not get there before morning. so i must lie up a day somewhere, for i wastoo outrageous a figure to be seen in the sunlight. i had neither coat, waistcoat, collar, norhat, my trousers were badly torn, and my

face and hands were black with theexplosion. i daresay i had other beauties, for my eyesfelt as if they were furiously bloodshot. altogether i was no spectacle for god-fearing citizens to see on a highroad. very soon after daybreak i made an attemptto clean myself in a hill burn, and then approached a herd's cottage, for i wasfeeling the need of food. the herd was away from home, and his wifewas alone, with no neighbour for five miles. she was a decent old body, and a pluckyone, for though she got a fright when she saw me, she had an axe handy, and wouldhave used it on any evil-doer.

i told her that i had had a fall--i didn'tsay how--and she saw by my looks that i was pretty sick. like a true samaritan she asked noquestions, but gave me a bowl of milk with a dash of whisky in it, and let me sit fora little by her kitchen fire. she would have bathed my shoulder, but itached so badly that i would not let her touch it. i don't know what she took me for--arepentant burglar, perhaps; for when i wanted to pay her for the milk and tendereda sovereign which was the smallest coin i had, she shook her head and said something

about 'giving it to them that had a rightto it'. at this i protested so strongly that ithink she believed me honest, for she took the money and gave me a warm new plaid forit, and an old hat of her man's. she showed me how to wrap the plaid aroundmy shoulders, and when i left that cottage i was the living image of the kind ofscotsman you see in the illustrations to burns's poems. but at any rate i was more or less clad.it was as well, for the weather changed before midday to a thick drizzle of rain. i found shelter below an overhanging rockin the crook of a burn, where a drift of

dead brackens made a tolerable bed. there i managed to sleep till nightfall,waking very cramped and wretched, with my shoulder gnawing like a toothache. i ate the oatcake and cheese the old wifehad given me and set out again just before the darkening.i pass over the miseries of that night among the wet hills. there were no stars to steer by, and i hadto do the best i could from my memory of the map.twice i lost my way, and i had some nasty falls into peat-bogs.

i had only about ten miles to go as thecrow flies, but my mistakes made it nearer twenty.the last bit was completed with set teeth and a very light and dizzy head. but i managed it, and in the early dawn iwas knocking at mr turnbull's door. the mist lay close and thick, and from thecottage i could not see the highroad. mr turnbull himself opened to me--sober andsomething more than sober. he was primly dressed in an ancient butwell-tended suit of black; he had been shaved not later than the night before; hewore a linen collar; and in his left hand he carried a pocket bible.

at first he did not recognize me.'whae are ye that comes stravaigin' here on the sabbath mornin'?' he asked.i had lost all count of the days. so the sabbath was the reason for thisstrange decorum. my head was swimming so wildly that i couldnot frame a coherent answer. but he recognized me, and he saw that i wasill. 'hae ye got my specs?' he asked.i fetched them out of my trouser pocket and gave him them. 'ye'll hae come for your jaicket andwestcoat,' he said. 'come in-bye.losh, man, ye're terrible dune i' the legs.

haud up till i get ye to a chair.' i perceived i was in for a bout of malaria.i had a good deal of fever in my bones, and the wet night had brought it out, while myshoulder and the effects of the fumes combined to make me feel pretty bad. before i knew, mr turnbull was helping meoff with my clothes, and putting me to bed in one of the two cupboards that lined thekitchen walls. he was a true friend in need, that oldroadman. his wife was dead years ago, and since hisdaughter's marriage he lived alone. for the better part of ten days he did allthe rough nursing i needed.

i simply wanted to be left in peace whilethe fever took its course, and when my skin was cool again i found that the bout hadmore or less cured my shoulder. but it was a baddish go, and though i wasout of bed in five days, it took me some time to get my legs again. he went out each morning, leaving me milkfor the day, and locking the door behind him; and came in in the evening to sitsilent in the chimney corner. not a soul came near the place. when i was getting better, he neverbothered me with a question. several times he fetched me a two days' oldscotsman, and i noticed that the interest

in the portland place murder seemed to havedied down. there was no mention of it, and i couldfind very little about anything except a thing called the general assembly--someecclesiastical spree, i gathered. one day he produced my belt from a lockfastdrawer. 'there's a terrible heap o' siller in't,'he said. 'ye'd better coont it to see it's a'there.' he never even sought my name. i asked him if anybody had been aroundmaking inquiries subsequent to my spell at the road-making.'ay, there was a man in a motor-cawr.

he speired whae had ta'en my place thatday, and i let on i thocht him daft. but he keepit on at me, and syne i said hemaun be thinkin' o' my gude-brither frae the cleuch that whiles lent me a haun'. he was a wersh-lookin' sowl, and i couldnaunderstand the half o' his english tongue.' i was getting restless those last days, andas soon as i felt myself fit i decided to be off. that was not till the twelfth day of june,and as luck would have it a drover went past that morning taking some cattle tomoffat. he was a man named hislop, a friend ofturnbull's, and he came in to his breakfast

with us and offered to take me with him.i made turnbull accept five pounds for my lodging, and a hard job i had of it. there never was a more independent being.he grew positively rude when i pressed him, and shy and red, and took the money at lastwithout a thank you. when i told him how much i owed him, hegrunted something about 'ae guid turn deservin' anither'.you would have thought from our leave- taking that we had parted in disgust. hislop was a cheery soul, who chattered allthe way over the pass and down the sunny vale of annan.

i talked of galloway markets and sheepprices, and he made up his mind i was a 'pack-shepherd' from those parts--whateverthat may be. my plaid and my old hat, as i have said,gave me a fine theatrical scots look. but driving cattle is a mortally slow job,and we took the better part of the day to cover a dozen miles. if i had not had such an anxious heart iwould have enjoyed that time. it was shining blue weather, with aconstantly changing prospect of brown hills and far green meadows, and a continualsound of larks and curlews and falling streams.

but i had no mind for the summer, andlittle for hislop's conversation, for as the fateful fifteenth of june drew near iwas overweighed with the hopeless difficulties of my enterprise. i got some dinner in a humble moffatpublic-house, and walked the two miles to the junction on the main line. the night express for the south was not duetill near midnight, and to fill up the time i went up on the hillside and fell asleep,for the walk had tired me. i all but slept too long, and had to run tothe station and catch the train with two minutes to spare.

the feel of the hard third-class cushionsand the smell of stale tobacco cheered me up wonderfully.at any rate, i felt now that i was getting to grips with my job. i was decanted at crewe in the small hoursand had to wait till six to get a train for birmingham. in the afternoon i got to reading, andchanged into a local train which journeyed into the deeps of berkshire.presently i was in a land of lush water- meadows and slow reedy streams. about eight o'clock in the evening, a wearyand travel-stained being--a cross between a

farm-labourer and a vet--with a checkedblack-and-white plaid over his arm (for i did not dare to wear it south of the border), descended at the little station ofartinswell. there were several people on the platform,and i thought i had better wait to ask my way till i was clear of the place. the road led through a wood of greatbeeches and then into a shallow valley, with the green backs of downs peeping overthe distant trees. after scotland the air smelt heavy andflat, but infinitely sweet, for the limes and chestnuts and lilac bushes were domesof blossom.

presently i came to a bridge, below which aclear slow stream flowed between snowy beds of water-buttercups. a little above it was a mill; and thelasher made a pleasant cool sound in the scented dusk.somehow the place soothed me and put me at my ease. i fell to whistling as i looked into thegreen depths, and the tune which came to my lips was 'annie laurie'.a fisherman came up from the waterside, and as he neared me he too began to whistle. the tune was infectious, for he followed mysuit.

he was a huge man in untidy old flannelsand a wide-brimmed hat, with a canvas bag slung on his shoulder. he nodded to me, and i thought i had neverseen a shrewder or better-tempered face. he leaned his delicate ten-foot split-canerod against the bridge, and looked with me at the water. 'clear, isn't it?' he said pleasantly.'i back our kenner any day against the test.look at that big fellow. four pounds if he's an ounce. but the evening rise is over and you can'ttempt 'em.'

'i don't see him,' said i.'look! there! a yard from the reeds just above thatstickle.' 'i've got him now.you might swear he was a black stone.' 'so,' he said, and whistled another bar of'annie laurie'. 'twisdon's the name, isn't it?' he saidover his shoulder, his eyes still fixed on the stream. 'no,' i said.'i mean to say, yes.' i had forgotten all about my alias.

'it's a wise conspirator that knows his ownname,' he observed, grinning broadly at a moor-hen that emerged from the bridge'sshadow. i stood up and looked at him, at thesquare, cleft jaw and broad, lined brow and the firm folds of cheek, and began to thinkthat here at last was an ally worth having. his whimsical blue eyes seemed to go verydeep. suddenly he frowned.'i call it disgraceful,' he said, raising his voice. 'disgraceful that an able-bodied man likeyou should dare to beg. you can get a meal from my kitchen, butyou'll get no money from me.'

a dog-cart was passing, driven by a youngman who raised his whip to salute the fisherman.when he had gone, he picked up his rod. 'that's my house,' he said, pointing to awhite gate a hundred yards on. 'wait five minutes and then go round to theback door.' and with that he left me. i did as i was bidden.i found a pretty cottage with a lawn running down to the stream, and a perfectjungle of guelder-rose and lilac flanking the path. the back door stood open, and a gravebutler was awaiting me.

'come this way, sir,' he said, and he ledme along a passage and up a back staircase to a pleasant bedroom looking towards theriver. there i found a complete outfit laid outfor me--dress clothes with all the fixings, a brown flannel suit, shirts, collars,ties, shaving things and hair-brushes, even a pair of patent shoes. 'sir walter thought as how mr reggie'sthings would fit you, sir,' said the butler.'he keeps some clothes 'ere, for he comes regular on the week-ends. there's a bathroom next door, and i'veprepared a 'ot bath.

dinner in 'alf an hour, sir.you'll 'ear the gong.' the grave being withdrew, and i sat down ina chintz-covered easy-chair and gaped. it was like a pantomime, to come suddenlyout of beggardom into this orderly comfort. obviously sir walter believed in me, thoughwhy he did i could not guess. i looked at myself in the mirror and saw awild, haggard brown fellow, with a fortnight's ragged beard, and dust in earsand eyes, collarless, vulgarly shirted, with shapeless old tweed clothes and boots that had not been cleaned for the betterpart of a month. i made a fine tramp and a fair drover; andhere i was ushered by a prim butler into

this temple of gracious ease. and the best of it was that they did noteven know my name. i resolved not to puzzle my head but totake the gifts the gods had provided. i shaved and bathed luxuriously, and gotinto the dress clothes and clean crackling shirt, which fitted me not so badly.by the time i had finished the looking- glass showed a not unpersonable young man. sir walter awaited me in a dusky dining-room where a little round table was lit with silver candles. the sight of him--so respectable andestablished and secure, the embodiment of

law and government and all the conventions--took me aback and made me feel an interloper. he couldn't know the truth about me, or hewouldn't treat me like this. i simply could not accept his hospitalityon false pretences. 'i'm more obliged to you than i can say,but i'm bound to make things clear,' i said.'i'm an innocent man, but i'm wanted by the police. i've got to tell you this, and i won't besurprised if you kick me out.' he smiled.'that's all right.

don't let that interfere with yourappetite. we can talk about these things afterdinner.' i never ate a meal with greater relish, fori had had nothing all day but railway sandwiches. sir walter did me proud, for we drank agood champagne and had some uncommon fine port afterwards. it made me almost hysterical to be sittingthere, waited on by a footman and a sleek butler, and remember that i had been livingfor three weeks like a brigand, with every man's hand against me.

i told sir walter about tiger-fish in thezambesi that bite off your fingers if you give them a chance, and we discussed sportup and down the globe, for he had hunted a bit in his day. we went to his study for coffee, a jollyroom full of books and trophies and untidiness and comfort. i made up my mind that if ever i got rid ofthis business and had a house of my own, i would create just such a room. then when the coffee-cups were clearedaway, and we had got our cigars alight, my host swung his long legs over the side ofhis chair and bade me get started with my

yarn. 'i've obeyed harry's instructions,' hesaid, 'and the bribe he offered me was that you would tell me something to wake me up.i'm ready, mr hannay.' i noticed with a start that he called me bymy proper name. i began at the very beginning. i told of my boredom in london, and thenight i had come back to find scudder gibbering on my doorstep. i told him all scudder had told me aboutkarolides and the foreign office conference, and that made him purse hislips and grin.

then i got to the murder, and he grewsolemn again. he heard all about the milkman and my timein galloway, and my deciphering scudder's notes at the inn. 'you've got them here?' he asked sharply,and drew a long breath when i whipped the little book from my pocket.i said nothing of the contents. then i described my meeting with sir harry,and the speeches at the hall. at that he laughed uproariously.'harry talked dashed nonsense, did he? i quite believe it. he's as good a chap as ever breathed, buthis idiot of an uncle has stuffed his head

with maggots.go on, mr hannay.' my day as roadman excited him a bit. he made me describe the two fellows in thecar very closely, and seemed to be raking back in his memory.he grew merry again when he heard of the fate of that ass jopley. but the old man in the moorland housesolemnized him. again i had to describe every detail of hisappearance. 'bland and bald-headed and hooded his eyeslike a bird ... he sounds a sinister wild-fowl!and you dynamited his hermitage, after he

had saved you from the police. spirited piece of work, that!'presently i reached the end of my wanderings.he got up slowly, and looked down at me from the hearth-rug. 'you may dismiss the police from yourmind,' he said. 'you're in no danger from the law of thisland.' 'great scot!' i cried.'have they got the murderer?' 'no. but for the last fortnight they havedropped you from the list of possibles.'

'why?' i asked in amazement.'principally because i received a letter from scudder.i knew something of the man, and he did several jobs for me. he was half crank, half genius, but he waswholly honest. the trouble about him was his partialityfor playing a lone hand. that made him pretty well useless in anysecret service--a pity, for he had uncommon gifts. i think he was the bravest man in theworld, for he was always shivering with

fright, and yet nothing would choke himoff. i had a letter from him on the 31st ofmay.' 'but he had been dead a week by then.''the letter was written and posted on the 23rd. he evidently did not anticipate animmediate decease. his communications usually took a week toreach me, for they were sent under cover to spain and then to newcastle. he had a mania, you know, for concealinghis tracks.' 'what did he say?'i stammered.

'nothing. merely that he was in danger, but had foundshelter with a good friend, and that i would hear from him before the 15th ofjune. he gave me no address, but said he wasliving near portland place. i think his object was to clear you ifanything happened. when i got it i went to scotland yard, wentover the details of the inquest, and concluded that you were the friend.we made inquiries about you, mr hannay, and found you were respectable. i thought i knew the motives for yourdisappearance--not only the police, the

other one too--and when i got harry'sscrawl i guessed at the rest. i have been expecting you any time thispast week.' you can imagine what a load this took offmy mind. i felt a free man once more, for i was nowup against my country's enemies only, and not my country's law.'now let us have the little note-book,' said sir walter. it took us a good hour to work through it.i explained the cypher, and he was jolly quick at picking it up. he emended my reading of it on severalpoints, but i had been fairly correct, on

the whole.his face was very grave before he had finished, and he sat silent for a while. 'i don't know what to make of it,' he saidat last. 'he is right about one thing--what is goingto happen the day after tomorrow. how the devil can it have got known? that is ugly enough in itself.but all this about war and the black stone- -it reads like some wild melodrama.if only i had more confidence in scudder's judgement. the trouble about him was that he was tooromantic.

he had the artistic temperament, and wanteda story to be better than god meant it to be. he had a lot of odd biases, too.jews, for example, made him see red. jews and the high finance.'the black stone,' he repeated. 'der schwarze stein. it's like a penny novelette.and all this stuff about karolides. that is the weak part of the tale, for ihappen to know that the virtuous karolides is likely to outlast us both. there is no state in europe that wants himgone.

besides, he has just been playing up toberlin and vienna and giving my chief some uneasy moments. no! scudder has gone off the track there.frankly, hannay, i don't believe that part of his story. there's some nasty business afoot, and hefound out too much and lost his life over it.but i am ready to take my oath that it is ordinary spy work. a certain great european power makes ahobby of her spy system, and her methods are not too particular.since she pays by piecework her blackguards

are not likely to stick at a murder or two. they want our naval dispositions for theircollection at the marineamt; but they will be pigeon-holed--nothing more.'just then the butler entered the room. 'there's a trunk-call from london, sirwalter. it's mr 'eath, and he wants to speak to youpersonally.' my host went off to the telephone. he returned in five minutes with a whitishface. 'i apologize to the shade of scudder,' hesaid. 'karolides was shot dead this evening at afew minutes after seven.'

chapter eightthe coming of the black stone i came down to breakfast next morning,after eight hours of blessed dreamless sleep, to find sir walter decoding atelegram in the midst of muffins and marmalade. his fresh rosiness of yesterday seemed athought tarnished. 'i had a busy hour on the telephone afteryou went to bed,' he said. 'i got my chief to speak to the first lordand the secretary for war, and they are bringing royer over a day sooner.this wire clinches it. he will be in london at five.

odd that the code word for a sous-chefd/etat major-general should be "porker".' he directed me to the hot dishes and wenton. 'not that i think it will do much good. if your friends were clever enough to findout the first arrangement they are clever enough to discover the change.i would give my head to know where the leak is. we believed there were only five men inengland who knew about royer's visit, and you may be certain there were fewer infrance, for they manage these things better there.'

while i ate he continued to talk, making meto my surprise a present of his full confidence.'can the dispositions not be changed?' i asked. 'they could,' he said.'but we want to avoid that if possible. they are the result of immense thought, andno alteration would be as good. besides, on one or two points change issimply impossible. still, something could be done, i suppose,if it were absolutely necessary. but you see the difficulty, hannay. our enemies are not going to be such foolsas to pick royer's pocket or any childish

game like that.they know that would mean a row and put us on our guard. their aim is to get the details without anyone of us knowing, so that royer will go back to paris in the belief that the wholebusiness is still deadly secret. if they can't do that they fail, for, oncewe suspect, they know that the whole thing must be altered.''then we must stick by the frenchman's side till he is home again,' i said. 'if they thought they could get theinformation in paris they would try there. it means that they have some deep scheme onfoot in london which they reckon is going

to win out.' 'royer dines with my chief, and then comesto my house where four people will see him- -whittaker from the admiralty, myself, sirarthur drew, and general winstanley. the first lord is ill, and has gone tosheringham. at my house he will get a certain documentfrom whittaker, and after that he will be motored to portsmouth where a destroyerwill take him to havre. his journey is too important for theordinary boat-train. he will never be left unattended for amoment till he is safe on french soil. the same with whittaker till he meetsroyer.

that is the best we can do, and it's hardto see how there can be any miscarriage. but i don't mind admitting that i'mhorribly nervous. this murder of karolides will play thedeuce in the chancelleries of europe.' after breakfast he asked me if i coulddrive a car. 'well, you'll be my chauffeur today andwear hudson's rig. you're about his size. you have a hand in this business and we aretaking no risks. there are desperate men against us, whowill not respect the country retreat of an overworked official.'

when i first came to london i had bought acar and amused myself with running about the south of england, so i knew somethingof the geography. i took sir walter to town by the bath roadand made good going. it was a soft breathless june morning, witha promise of sultriness later, but it was delicious enough swinging through thelittle towns with their freshly watered streets, and past the summer gardens of thethames valley. i landed sir walter at his house in queenanne's gate punctually by half-past eleven. the butler was coming up by train with theluggage. the first thing he did was to take me roundto scotland yard.

there we saw a prim gentleman, with aclean-shaven, lawyer's face. 'i've brought you the portland placemurderer,' was sir walter's introduction. the reply was a wry smile. 'it would have been a welcome present,bullivant. this, i presume, is mr richard hannay, whofor some days greatly interested my department.' 'mr hannay will interest it again.he has much to tell you, but not today. for certain grave reasons his tale mustwait for four hours. then, i can promise you, you will beentertained and possibly edified.

i want you to assure mr hannay that he willsuffer no further inconvenience.' this assurance was promptly given. 'you can take up your life where you leftoff,' i was told. 'your flat, which probably you no longerwish to occupy, is waiting for you, and your man is still there. as you were never publicly accused, weconsidered that there was no need of a public exculpation.but on that, of course, you must please yourself.' 'we may want your assistance later on,macgillivray,' sir walter said as we left.

then he turned me loose.'come and see me tomorrow, hannay. i needn't tell you to keep deadly quiet. if i were you i would go to bed, for youmust have considerable arrears of sleep to overtake. you had better lie low, for if one of yourblack stone friends saw you there might be trouble.'i felt curiously at a loose end. at first it was very pleasant to be a freeman, able to go where i wanted without fearing anything.i had only been a month under the ban of the law, and it was quite enough for me.

i went to the savoy and ordered verycarefully a very good luncheon, and then smoked the best cigar the house couldprovide. but i was still feeling nervous. when i saw anybody look at me in thelounge, i grew shy, and wondered if they were thinking about the murder.after that i took a taxi and drove miles away up into north london. i walked back through fields and lines ofvillas and terraces and then slums and mean streets, and it took me pretty nearly twohours. all the while my restlessness was growingworse.

i felt that great things, tremendousthings, were happening or about to happen, and i, who was the cog-wheel of the wholebusiness, was out of it. royer would be landing at dover, sir walterwould be making plans with the few people in england who were in the secret, andsomewhere in the darkness the black stone would be working. i felt the sense of danger and impendingcalamity, and i had the curious feeling, too, that i alone could avert it, alonecould grapple with it. but i was out of the game now. how could it be otherwise?it was not likely that cabinet ministers

and admiralty lords and generals wouldadmit me to their councils. i actually began to wish that i could runup against one of my three enemies. that would lead to developments. i felt that i wanted enormously to have avulgar scrap with those gentry, where i could hit out and flatten something.i was rapidly getting into a very bad temper. i didn't feel like going back to my flat.that had to be faced some time, but as i still had sufficient money i thought iwould put it off till next morning, and go to a hotel for the night.

my irritation lasted through dinner, whichi had at a restaurant in jermyn street. i was no longer hungry, and let severalcourses pass untasted. i drank the best part of a bottle ofburgundy, but it did nothing to cheer me. an abominable restlessness had takenpossession of me. here was i, a very ordinary fellow, with noparticular brains, and yet i was convinced that somehow i was needed to help thisbusiness through--that without me it would all go to blazes. i told myself it was sheer silly conceit,that four or five of the cleverest people living, with all the might of the britishempire at their back, had the job in hand.

yet i couldn't be convinced. it seemed as if a voice kept speaking in myear, telling me to be up and doing, or i would never sleep again.the upshot was that about half-past nine i made up my mind to go to queen anne's gate. very likely i would not be admitted, but itwould ease my conscience to try. i walked down jermyn street, and at thecorner of duke street passed a group of young men. they were in evening dress, had been diningsomewhere, and were going on to a music- hall.one of them was mr marmaduke jopley.

he saw me and stopped short. 'by god, the murderer!' he cried.'here, you fellows, hold him! that's hannay, the man who did the portlandplace murder!' he gripped me by the arm, and the otherscrowded round. i wasn't looking for any trouble, but myill-temper made me play the fool. a policeman came up, and i should have toldhim the truth, and, if he didn't believe it, demanded to be taken to scotland yard,or for that matter to the nearest police station. but a delay at that moment seemed to meunendurable, and the sight of marmie's

imbecile face was more than i could bear. i let out with my left, and had thesatisfaction of seeing him measure his length in the gutter.then began an unholy row. they were all on me at once, and thepoliceman took me in the rear. i got in one or two good blows, for ithink, with fair play, i could have licked the lot of them, but the policeman pinnedme behind, and one of them got his fingers on my throat. through a black cloud of rage i heard theofficer of the law asking what was the matter, and marmie, between his brokenteeth, declaring that i was hannay the

murderer. 'oh, damn it all,' i cried, 'make thefellow shut up. i advise you to leave me alone, constable. scotland yard knows all about me, andyou'll get a proper wigging if you interfere with me.''you've got to come along of me, young man,' said the policeman. 'i saw you strike that gentleman crool'ard. you began it too, for he wasn't doingnothing. i seen you.

best go quietly or i'll have to fix youup.' exasperation and an overwhelming sense thatat no cost must i delay gave me the strength of a bull elephant. i fairly wrenched the constable off hisfeet, floored the man who was gripping my collar, and set off at my best pace downduke street. i heard a whistle being blown, and the rushof men behind me. i have a very fair turn of speed, and thatnight i had wings. in a jiffy i was in pall mall and hadturned down towards st james's park. i dodged the policeman at the palace gates,dived through a press of carriages at the

entrance to the mall, and was making forthe bridge before my pursuers had crossed the roadway. in the open ways of the park i put on aspurt. happily there were few people about and noone tried to stop me. i was staking all on getting to queenanne's gate. when i entered that quiet thoroughfare itseemed deserted. sir walter's house was in the narrow part,and outside it three or four motor-cars were drawn up.i slackened speed some yards off and walked briskly up to the door.

if the butler refused me admission, or ifhe even delayed to open the door, i was done.he didn't delay. i had scarcely rung before the door opened. 'i must see sir walter,' i panted.'my business is desperately important.' that butler was a great man.without moving a muscle he held the door open, and then shut it behind me. 'sir walter is engaged, sir, and i haveorders to admit no one. perhaps you will wait.' the house was of the old-fashioned kind,with a wide hall and rooms on both sides of

at the far end was an alcove with atelephone and a couple of chairs, and there the butler offered me a seat.'see here,' i whispered. 'there's trouble about and i'm in it. but sir walter knows, and i'm working forhim. if anyone comes and asks if i am here, tellhim a lie.' he nodded, and presently there was a noiseof voices in the street, and a furious ringing at the bell.i never admired a man more than that butler. he opened the door, and with a face like agraven image waited to be questioned.

then he gave them it. he told them whose house it was, and whathis orders were, and simply froze them off the doorstep.i could see it all from my alcove, and it was better than any play. i hadn't waited long till there cameanother ring at the bell. the butler made no bones about admittingthis new visitor. while he was taking off his coat i saw whoit was. you couldn't open a newspaper or a magazinewithout seeing that face--the grey beard cut like a spade, the firm fighting mouth,the blunt square nose, and the keen blue

i recognized the first sea lord, the man,they say, that made the new british navy. he passed my alcove and was ushered into aroom at the back of the hall. as the door opened i could hear the soundof low voices. it shut, and i was left alone again.for twenty minutes i sat there, wondering what i was to do next. i was still perfectly convinced that i waswanted, but when or how i had no notion. i kept looking at my watch, and as the timecrept on to half-past ten i began to think that the conference must soon end. in a quarter of an hour royer should bespeeding along the road to portsmouth ...

then i heard a bell ring, and the butlerappeared. the door of the back room opened, and thefirst sea lord came out. he walked past me, and in passing heglanced in my direction, and for a second we looked each other in the face. only for a second, but it was enough tomake my heart jump. i had never seen the great man before, andhe had never seen me. but in that fraction of time somethingsprang into his eyes, and that something was recognition.you can't mistake it. it is a flicker, a spark of light, a minuteshade of difference which means one thing

and one thing only.it came involuntarily, for in a moment it died, and he passed on. in a maze of wild fancies i heard thestreet door close behind him. i picked up the telephone book and lookedup the number of his house. we were connected at once, and i heard aservant's voice. 'is his lordship at home?'i asked. 'his lordship returned half an hour ago,'said the voice, 'and has gone to bed. he is not very well tonight.will you leave a message, sir?' i rang off and almost tumbled into a chair.

my part in this business was not yet ended.it had been a close shave, but i had been in time. not a moment could be lost, so i marchedboldly to the door of that back room and entered without knocking.five surprised faces looked up from a round table. there was sir walter, and drew the warminister, whom i knew from his photographs. there was a slim elderly man, who wasprobably whittaker, the admiralty official, and there was general winstanley,conspicuous from the long scar on his forehead.

lastly, there was a short stout man with aniron-grey moustache and bushy eyebrows, who had been arrested in the middle of asentence. sir walter's face showed surprise andannoyance. 'this is mr hannay, of whom i have spokento you,' he said apologetically to the company. 'i'm afraid, hannay, this visit is ill-timed.' i was getting back my coolness.'that remains to be seen, sir,' i said; 'but i think it may be in the nick of time. for god's sake, gentlemen, tell me who wentout a minute ago?'

'lord alloa,' sir walter said, reddeningwith anger. 'it was not,' i cried; 'it was his livingimage, but it was not lord alloa. it was someone who recognized me, someone ihave seen in the last month. he had scarcely left the doorstep when irang up lord alloa's house and was told he had come in half an hour before and hadgone to bed.' 'who--who--' someone stammered. 'the black stone,' i cried, and i sat downin the chair so recently vacated and looked round at five badly scared gentlemen. chapter ninethe thirty-nine steps

'nonsense!' said the official from theadmiralty. sir walter got up and left the room whilewe looked blankly at the table. he came back in ten minutes with a longface. 'i have spoken to alloa,' he said.'had him out of bed--very grumpy. he went straight home after mulross'sdinner.' 'but it's madness,' broke in generalwinstanley. 'do you mean to tell me that that man camehere and sat beside me for the best part of half an hour and that i didn't detect theimposture? alloa must be out of his mind.'

'don't you see the cleverness of it?'i said. 'you were too interested in other things tohave any eyes. you took lord alloa for granted. if it had been anybody else you might havelooked more closely, but it was natural for him to be here, and that put you all tosleep.' then the frenchman spoke, very slowly andin good english. 'the young man is right.his psychology is good. our enemies have not been foolish!' 'but i don't see,' went on winstanley.

'their object was to get these dispositionswithout our knowing it. now it only required one of us to mentionto alloa our meeting tonight for the whole fraud to be exposed.'sir walter laughed dryly. 'the selection of alloa shows their acumen. which of us was likely to speak to himabout tonight? or was he likely to open the subject?' i remembered the first sea lord'sreputation for taciturnity and shortness of 'the one thing that puzzles me,' said thegeneral, 'is what good his visit here would do that spy fellow?he could not carry away several pages of

figures and strange names in his head.' 'that is not difficult,' the frenchmanreplied. 'a good spy is trained to have aphotographic memory. like your own macaulay. you noticed he said nothing, but wentthrough these papers again and again. i think we may assume that he has everydetail stamped on his mind. when i was younger i could do the sametrick.' 'well, i suppose there is nothing for itbut to change the plans,' said sir walter ruefully.

whittaker was looking very glum.'did you tell lord alloa what has happened?' he asked. 'no? well, i can't speak with absoluteassurance, but i'm nearly certain we can't make any serious change unless we alter thegeography of england.' 'another thing must be said,' it was royerwho spoke. 'i talked freely when that man was here.i told something of the military plans of my government. i was permitted to say so much.but that information would be worth many millions to our enemies.no, my friends, i see no other way.

the man who came here and his confederatesmust be taken, and taken at once.' 'good god,' i cried, 'and we have not a ragof a clue.' 'besides,' said whittaker, 'there is thepost. by this time the news will be on its way.''no,' said the frenchman. 'you do not understand the habits of thespy. he receives personally his reward, and hedelivers personally his intelligence. we in france know something of the breed. there is still a chance, mes amis.these men must cross the sea, and there are ships to be searched and ports to bewatched.

believe me, the need is desperate for bothfrance and britain.' royer's grave good sense seemed to pull ustogether. he was the man of action among fumblers. but i saw no hope in any face, and i feltnone. where among the fifty millions of theseislands and within a dozen hours were we to lay hands on the three cleverest rogues ineurope? then suddenly i had an inspiration. 'where is scudder's book?'i cried to sir walter. 'quick, man, i remember something in it.'he unlocked the door of a bureau and gave

it to me. i found the place.thirty-nine steps, i read, and again, thirty-nine steps--i counted them--hightide 10.17 p.m. the admiralty man was looking at me as ifhe thought i had gone mad. 'don't you see it's a clue,' i shouted. 'scudder knew where these fellows laired--he knew where they were going to leave the country, though he kept the name tohimself. tomorrow was the day, and it was some placewhere high tide was at 10.17.' 'they may have gone tonight,' someone said.'not they.

they have their own snug secret way, andthey won't be hurried. i know germans, and they are mad aboutworking to a plan. where the devil can i get a book of tidetables?' whittaker brightened up.'it's a chance,' he said. 'let's go over to the admiralty.' we got into two of the waiting motor-cars--all but sir walter, who went off to scotland yard--to 'mobilize macgillivray',so he said. we marched through empty corridors and bigbare chambers where the charwomen were busy, till we reached a little room linedwith books and maps.

a resident clerk was unearthed, whopresently fetched from the library the admiralty tide tables. i sat at the desk and the others stoodround, for somehow or other i had got charge of this expedition.it was no good. there were hundreds of entries, and so faras i could see 10.17 might cover fifty places.we had to find some way of narrowing the possibilities. i took my head in my hands and thought.there must be some way of reading this riddle.what did scudder mean by steps?

i thought of dock steps, but if he hadmeant that i didn't think he would have mentioned the number. it must be some place where there wereseveral staircases, and one marked out from the others by having thirty-nine steps.then i had a sudden thought, and hunted up all the steamer sailings. there was no boat which left for thecontinent at 10.17 p.m. why was high tide so important? if it was a harbour it must be some littleplace where the tide mattered, or else it was a heavy-draught boat.

but there was no regular steamer sailing atthat hour, and somehow i didn't think they would travel by a big boat from a regularharbour. so it must be some little harbour where thetide was important, or perhaps no harbour at all.but if it was a little port i couldn't see what the steps signified. there were no sets of staircases on anyharbour that i had ever seen. it must be some place which a particularstaircase identified, and where the tide was full at 10.17. on the whole it seemed to me that the placemust be a bit of open coast.

but the staircases kept puzzling me.then i went back to wider considerations. whereabouts would a man be likely to leavefor germany, a man in a hurry, who wanted a speedy and a secret passage?not from any of the big harbours. and not from the channel or the west coastor scotland, for, remember, he was starting from london.i measured the distance on the map, and tried to put myself in the enemy's shoes. i should try for ostend or antwerp orrotterdam, and i should sail from somewhere on the east coast between cromer and dover. all this was very loose guessing, and idon't pretend it was ingenious or

scientific.i wasn't any kind of sherlock holmes. but i have always fancied i had a kind ofinstinct about questions like this. i don't know if i can explain myself, but iused to use my brains as far as they went, and after they came to a blank wall iguessed, and i usually found my guesses pretty right. so i set out all my conclusions on a bit ofadmiralty paper. they ran like this: fairly certain (1) place where there areseveral sets of stairs; one that matters distinguished by having thirty-nine steps.

(2) full tide at 10.17 p.m.leaving shore only possible at full tide. (3) steps not dock steps, and so placeprobably not harbour. (4) no regular night steamer at 10.17.means of transport must be tramp (unlikely), yacht, or fishing-boat. there my reasoning stopped.i made another list, which i headed 'guessed', but i was just as sure of theone as the other. guessed (1) place not harbour but opencoast. (2) boat small--trawler, yacht, or launch.(3) place somewhere on east coast between cromer and dover.

it struck me as odd that i should besitting at that desk with a cabinet minister, a field-marshal, two highgovernment officials, and a french general watching me, while from the scribble of a dead man i was trying to drag a secretwhich meant life or death for us. sir walter had joined us, and presentlymacgillivray arrived. he had sent out instructions to watch theports and railway stations for the three men whom i had described to sir walter.not that he or anybody else thought that that would do much good. 'here's the most i can make of it,' i said.'we have got to find a place where there

are several staircases down to the beach,one of which has thirty-nine steps. i think it's a piece of open coast withbiggish cliffs, somewhere between the wash and the channel.also it's a place where full tide is at 10.17 tomorrow night.' then an idea struck me.'is there no inspector of coastguards or some fellow like that who knows the eastcoast?' whittaker said there was, and that he livedin clapham. he went off in a car to fetch him, and therest of us sat about the little room and talked of anything that came into ourheads.

i lit a pipe and went over the whole thingagain till my brain grew weary. about one in the morning the coastguard manarrived. he was a fine old fellow, with the look ofa naval officer, and was desperately respectful to the company. i left the war minister to cross-examinehim, for i felt he would think it cheek in me to talk. 'we want you to tell us the places you knowon the east coast where there are cliffs, and where several sets of steps run down tothe beach.' he thought for a bit.

'what kind of steps do you mean, sir?there are plenty of places with roads cut down through the cliffs, and most roadshave a step or two in them. or do you mean regular staircases--allsteps, so to speak?' sir arthur looked towards me.'we mean regular staircases,' i said. he reflected a minute or two. 'i don't know that i can think of any.wait a second. there's a place in norfolk--brattlesham--beside a golf-course, where there are a couple of staircases, to let the gentlemenget a lost ball.' 'that's not it,' i said.

'then there are plenty of marine parades,if that's what you mean. every seaside resort has them.'i shook my head. 'it's got to be more retired than that,' isaid. 'well, gentlemen, i can't think of anywhereelse. of course, there's the ruff--' 'what's that?'i asked. 'the big chalk headland in kent, close tobradgate. it's got a lot of villas on the top, andsome of the houses have staircases down to a private beach.

it's a very high-toned sort of place, andthe residents there like to keep by themselves.'i tore open the tide tables and found bradgate. high tide there was at 10.17 p.m. on the15th of june. 'we're on the scent at last,' i criedexcitedly. 'how can i find out what is the tide at theruff?' 'i can tell you that, sir,' said thecoastguard man. 'i once was lent a house there in this verymonth, and i used to go out at night to the deep-sea fishing.the tide's ten minutes before bradgate.'

i closed the book and looked round at thecompany. 'if one of those staircases has thirty-ninesteps we have solved the mystery, gentlemen,' i said. 'i want the loan of your car, sir walter,and a map of the roads. if mr macgillivray will spare me tenminutes, i think we can prepare something for tomorrow.' it was ridiculous in me to take charge ofthe business like this, but they didn't seem to mind, and after all i had been inthe show from the start. besides, i was used to rough jobs, andthese eminent gentlemen were too clever not

to see it.it was general royer who gave me my commission. 'i for one,' he said, 'am content to leavethe matter in mr hannay's hands.' by half-past three i was tearing past themoonlit hedgerows of kent, with macgillivray's best man on the seat besideme. chapter tenvarious parties converging on the sea a pink and blue june morning found me atbradgate looking from the griffin hotel over a smooth sea to the lightship on thecock sands which seemed the size of a bell- buoy.

a couple of miles farther south and muchnearer the shore a small destroyer was anchored. scaife, macgillivray's man, who had been inthe navy, knew the boat, and told me her name and her commander's, so i sent off awire to sir walter. after breakfast scaife got from a house-agent a key for the gates of the staircases on the ruff. i walked with him along the sands, and satdown in a nook of the cliffs while he investigated the half-dozen of them. i didn't want to be seen, but the place atthis hour was quite deserted, and all the

time i was on that beach i saw nothing butthe sea-gulls. it took him more than an hour to do thejob, and when i saw him coming towards me, conning a bit of paper, i can tell you myheart was in my mouth. everything depended, you see, on my guessproving right. he read aloud the number of steps in thedifferent stairs. 'thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-nine,forty-two, forty-seven,' and 'twenty-one' where the cliffs grew lower.i almost got up and shouted. we hurried back to the town and sent a wireto macgillivray. i wanted half a dozen men, and i directedthem to divide themselves among different

specified hotels. then scaife set out to prospect the houseat the head of the thirty-nine steps. he came back with news that both puzzledand reassured me. the house was called trafalgar lodge, andbelonged to an old gentleman called appleton--a retired stockbroker, the house-agent said. mr appleton was there a good deal in thesummer time, and was in residence now--had been for the better part of a week. scaife could pick up very littleinformation about him, except that he was a decent old fellow, who paid his billsregularly, and was always good for a fiver

for a local charity. then scaife seemed to have penetrated tothe back door of the house, pretending he was an agent for sewing-machines. only three servants were kept, a cook, aparlour-maid, and a housemaid, and they were just the sort that you would find in arespectable middle-class household. the cook was not the gossiping kind, andhad pretty soon shut the door in his face, but scaife said he was positive she knewnothing. next door there was a new house buildingwhich would give good cover for observation, and the villa on the otherside was to let, and its garden was rough

and shrubby. i borrowed scaife's telescope, and beforelunch went for a walk along the ruff. i kept well behind the rows of villas, andfound a good observation point on the edge of the golf-course. there i had a view of the line of turfalong the cliff top, with seats placed at intervals, and the little square plots,railed in and planted with bushes, whence the staircases descended to the beach. i saw trafalgar lodge very plainly, a red-brick villa with a veranda, a tennis lawn behind, and in front the ordinary seasideflower-garden full of marguerites and

scraggy geraniums. there was a flagstaff from which anenormous union jack hung limply in the still air.presently i observed someone leave the house and saunter along the cliff. when i got my glasses on him i saw it wasan old man, wearing white flannel trousers, a blue serge jacket, and a straw hat. he carried field-glasses and a newspaper,and sat down on one of the iron seats and began to read.sometimes he would lay down the paper and turn his glasses on the sea.

he looked for a long time at the destroyer.i watched him for half an hour, till he got up and went back to the house for hisluncheon, when i returned to the hotel for mine. i wasn't feeling very confident.this decent common-place dwelling was not what i had expected. the man might be the bald archaeologist ofthat horrible moorland farm, or he might not. he was exactly the kind of satisfied oldbird you will find in every suburb and every holiday place.

if you wanted a type of the perfectlyharmless person you would probably pitch on but after lunch, as i sat in the hotelporch, i perked up, for i saw the thing i had hoped for and had dreaded to miss.a yacht came up from the south and dropped anchor pretty well opposite the ruff. she seemed about a hundred and fifty tons,and i saw she belonged to the squadron from the white ensign. so scaife and i went down to the harbourand hired a boatman for an afternoon's fishing.i spent a warm and peaceful afternoon. we caught between us about twenty pounds ofcod and lythe, and out in that dancing blue

sea i took a cheerier view of things. above the white cliffs of the ruff i sawthe green and red of the villas, and especially the great flagstaff of trafalgarlodge. about four o'clock, when we had fishedenough, i made the boatman row us round the yacht, which lay like a delicate whitebird, ready at a moment to flee. scaife said she must be a fast boat for herbuild, and that she was pretty heavily engined. her name was the ariadne, as i discoveredfrom the cap of one of the men who was polishing brasswork.i spoke to him, and got an answer in the

soft dialect of essex. another hand that came along passed me thetime of day in an unmistakable english tongue. our boatman had an argument with one ofthem about the weather, and for a few minutes we lay on our oars close to thestarboard bow. then the men suddenly disregarded us andbent their heads to their work as an officer came along the deck. he was a pleasant, clean-looking youngfellow, and he put a question to us about our fishing in very good english.but there could be no doubt about him.

his close-cropped head and the cut of hiscollar and tie never came out of england. that did something to reassure me, but aswe rowed back to bradgate my obstinate doubts would not be dismissed. the thing that worried me was thereflection that my enemies knew that i had got my knowledge from scudder, and it wasscudder who had given me the clue to this place. if they knew that scudder had this clue,would they not be certain to change their plans?too much depended on their success for them to take any risks.

the whole question was how much theyunderstood about scudder's knowledge. i had talked confidently last night aboutgermans always sticking to a scheme, but if they had any suspicions that i was on theirtrack they would be fools not to cover it. i wondered if the man last night had seenthat i recognized him. somehow i did not think he had, and to thati had clung. but the whole business had never seemed sodifficult as that afternoon when by all calculations i should have been rejoicingin assured success. in the hotel i met the commander of thedestroyer, to whom scaife introduced me, and with whom i had a few words.then i thought i would put in an hour or

two watching trafalgar lodge. i found a place farther up the hill, in thegarden of an empty house. from there i had a full view of the court,on which two figures were having a game of tennis. one was the old man, whom i had alreadyseen; the other was a younger fellow, wearing some club colours in the scarfround his middle. they played with tremendous zest, like twocity gents who wanted hard exercise to open their pores.you couldn't conceive a more innocent spectacle.

they shouted and laughed and stopped fordrinks, when a maid brought out two tankards on a salver.i rubbed my eyes and asked myself if i was not the most immortal fool on earth. mystery and darkness had hung about the menwho hunted me over the scotch moor in aeroplane and motor-car, and notably aboutthat infernal antiquarian. it was easy enough to connect those folkwith the knife that pinned scudder to the floor, and with fell designs on the world'speace. but here were two guileless citizens takingtheir innocuous exercise, and soon about to go indoors to a humdrum dinner, where theywould talk of market prices and the last

cricket scores and the gossip of theirnative surbiton. i had been making a net to catch vulturesand falcons, and lo and behold! two plump thrushes had blundered into it. presently a third figure arrived, a youngman on a bicycle, with a bag of golf-clubs slung on his back.he strolled round to the tennis lawn and was welcomed riotously by the players. evidently they were chaffing him, and theirchaff sounded horribly english. then the plump man, mopping his brow with asilk handkerchief, announced that he must have a tub.

i heard his very words--'i've got into aproper lather,' he said. 'this will bring down my weight and myhandicap, bob. i'll take you on tomorrow and give you astroke a hole.' you couldn't find anything much moreenglish than that. they all went into the house, and left mefeeling a precious idiot. i had been barking up the wrong tree thistime. these men might be acting; but if theywere, where was their audience? they didn't know i was sitting thirty yardsoff in a rhododendron. it was simply impossible to believe thatthese three hearty fellows were anything

but what they seemed--three ordinary, game-playing, suburban englishmen, wearisome, if you like, but sordidly innocent. and yet there were three of them; and onewas old, and one was plump, and one was lean and dark; and their house chimed inwith scudder's notes; and half a mile off was lying a steam yacht with at least onegerman officer. i thought of karolides lying dead and alleurope trembling on the edge of earthquake, and the men i had left behind me in londonwho were waiting anxiously for the events of the next hours. there was no doubt that hell was afootsomewhere.

the black stone had won, and if it survivedthis june night would bank its winnings. there seemed only one thing to do--goforward as if i had no doubts, and if i was going to make a fool of myself to do ithandsomely. never in my life have i faced a job withgreater disinclination. i would rather in my then mind have walkedinto a den of anarchists, each with his browning handy, or faced a charging lionwith a popgun, than enter that happy home of three cheerful englishmen and tell themthat their game was up. how they would laugh at me!but suddenly i remembered a thing i once heard in rhodesia from old peter pienaar.

i have quoted peter already in thisnarrative. he was the best scout i ever knew, andbefore he had turned respectable he had been pretty often on the windy side of thelaw, when he had been wanted badly by the authorities. peter once discussed with me the questionof disguises, and he had a theory which struck me at the time. he said, barring absolute certainties likefingerprints, mere physical traits were very little use for identification if thefugitive really knew his business. he laughed at things like dyed hair andfalse beards and such childish follies.

the only thing that mattered was what petercalled 'atmosphere'. if a man could get into perfectly differentsurroundings from those in which he had been first observed, and--this is theimportant part--really play up to these surroundings and behave as if he had never been out of them, he would puzzle thecleverest detectives on earth. and he used to tell a story of how he onceborrowed a black coat and went to church and shared the same hymn-book with the manthat was looking for him. if that man had seen him in decent companybefore he would have recognized him; but he had only seen him snuffing the lights in apublic-house with a revolver.

the recollection of peter's talk gave methe first real comfort that i had had that day. peter had been a wise old bird, and thesefellows i was after were about the pick of the aviary.what if they were playing peter's game? a fool tries to look different: a cleverman looks the same and is different. again, there was that other maxim ofpeter's which had helped me when i had been a roadman. 'if you are playing a part, you will neverkeep it up unless you convince yourself that you are it.'that would explain the game of tennis.

those chaps didn't need to act, they justturned a handle and passed into another life, which came as naturally to them asthe first. it sounds a platitude, but peter used tosay that it was the big secret of all the famous criminals. it was now getting on for eight o'clock,and i went back and saw scaife to give him his instructions. i arranged with him how to place his men,and then i went for a walk, for i didn't feel up to any dinner. i went round the deserted golf-course, andthen to a point on the cliffs farther north

beyond the line of the villas. on the little trim newly-made roads i metpeople in flannels coming back from tennis and the beach, and a coastguard from thewireless station, and donkeys and pierrots padding homewards. out at sea in the blue dusk i saw lightsappear on the ariadne and on the destroyer away to the south, and beyond the cocksands the bigger lights of steamers making for the thames. the whole scene was so peaceful andordinary that i got more dashed in spirits every second.it took all my resolution to stroll towards

trafalgar lodge about half-past nine. on the way i got a piece of solid comfortfrom the sight of a greyhound that was swinging along at a nursemaid's heels. he reminded me of a dog i used to have inrhodesia, and of the time when i took him hunting with me in the pali hills. we were after rhebok, the dun kind, and irecollected how we had followed one beast, and both he and i had clean lost it. a greyhound works by sight, and my eyes aregood enough, but that buck simply leaked out of the landscape.afterwards i found out how it managed it.

against the grey rock of the kopjes itshowed no more than a crow against a thundercloud. it didn't need to run away; all it had todo was to stand still and melt into the background. suddenly as these memories chased across mybrain i thought of my present case and applied the moral.the black stone didn't need to bolt. they were quietly absorbed into thelandscape. i was on the right track, and i jammed thatdown in my mind and vowed never to forget the last word was with peter pienaar.scaife's men would be posted now, but there

was no sign of a soul.the house stood as open as a market-place for anybody to observe. a three-foot railing separated it from thecliff road; the windows on the ground-floor were all open, and shaded lights and thelow sound of voices revealed where the occupants were finishing dinner. everything was as public and above-board asa charity bazaar. feeling the greatest fool on earth, iopened the gate and rang the bell. a man of my sort, who has travelled aboutthe world in rough places, gets on perfectly well with two classes, what youmay call the upper and the lower.

he understands them and they understandhim. i was at home with herds and tramps androadmen, and i was sufficiently at my ease with people like sir walter and the men ihad met the night before. i can't explain why, but it is a fact. but what fellows like me don't understandis the great comfortable, satisfied middle- class world, the folk that live in villasand suburbs. he doesn't know how they look at things, hedoesn't understand their conventions, and he is as shy of them as of a black mamba.when a trim parlour-maid opened the door, i could hardly find my voice.

i asked for mr appleton, and was usheredin. my plan had been to walk straight into thedining-room, and by a sudden appearance wake in the men that start of recognitionwhich would confirm my theory. but when i found myself in that neat hallthe place mastered me. there were the golf-clubs and tennis-rackets, the straw hats and caps, the rows of gloves, the sheaf of walking-sticks,which you will find in ten thousand british homes. a stack of neatly folded coats andwaterproofs covered the top of an old oak chest; there was a grandfather clockticking; and some polished brass warming-

pans on the walls, and a barometer, and aprint of chiltern winning the st leger. the place was as orthodox as an anglicanchurch. when the maid asked me for my name i gaveit automatically, and was shown into the smoking-room, on the right side of thehall. that room was even worse. i hadn't time to examine it, but i couldsee some framed group photographs above the mantelpiece, and i could have sworn theywere english public school or college. i had only one glance, for i managed topull myself together and go after the maid. but i was too late.

she had already entered the dining-room andgiven my name to her master, and i had missed the chance of seeing how the threetook it. when i walked into the room the old man atthe head of the table had risen and turned round to meet me. he was in evening dress--a short coat andblack tie, as was the other, whom i called in my own mind the plump one. the third, the dark fellow, wore a blueserge suit and a soft white collar, and the colours of some club or school.the old man's manner was perfect. 'mr hannay?' he said hesitatingly.

'did you wish to see me?one moment, you fellows, and i'll rejoin you.we had better go to the smoking-room.' though i hadn't an ounce of confidence inme, i forced myself to play the game. i pulled up a chair and sat down on it.'i think we have met before,' i said, 'and i guess you know my business.' the light in the room was dim, but so faras i could see their faces, they played the part of mystification very well.'maybe, maybe,' said the old man. 'i haven't a very good memory, but i'mafraid you must tell me your errand, sir, for i really don't know it.'

'well, then,' i said, and all the time iseemed to myself to be talking pure foolishness--'i have come to tell you thatthe game's up. i have a warrant for the arrest of youthree gentlemen.' 'arrest,' said the old man, and he lookedreally shocked. 'arrest! good god, what for?''for the murder of franklin scudder in london on the 23rd day of last month.''i never heard the name before,' said the old man in a dazed voice. one of the others spoke up.'that was the portland place murder.

i read about it.good heavens, you must be mad, sir! where do you come from?' 'scotland yard,' i said.after that for a minute there was utter silence. the old man was staring at his plate andfumbling with a nut, the very model of innocent bewilderment.then the plump one spoke up. he stammered a little, like a man pickinghis words. 'don't get flustered, uncle,' he said. 'it is all a ridiculous mistake; but thesethings happen sometimes, and we can easily

set it right.it won't be hard to prove our innocence. i can show that i was out of the country onthe 23rd of may, and bob was in a nursing home.you were in london, but you can explain what you were doing.' 'right, percy!of course that's easy enough. the 23rd!that was the day after agatha's wedding. let me see. what was i doing?i came up in the morning from woking, and lunched at the club with charlie symons.then--oh yes, i dined with the fishmongers.

i remember, for the punch didn't agree withme, and i was seedy next morning. hang it all, there's the cigar-box ibrought back from the dinner.' he pointed to an object on the table, andlaughed nervously. 'i think, sir,' said the young man,addressing me respectfully, 'you will see you are mistaken. we want to assist the law like allenglishmen, and we don't want scotland yard to be making fools of themselves.that's so, uncle?' 'certainly, bob.' the old fellow seemed to be recovering hisvoice.

'certainly, we'll do anything in our powerto assist the authorities. but--but this is a bit too much. i can't get over it.''how nellie will chuckle,' said the plump man. 'she always said that you would die ofboredom because nothing ever happened to you.and now you've got it thick and strong,' and he began to laugh very pleasantly. 'by jove, yes.just think of it! what a story to tell at the club.

really, mr hannay, i suppose i should beangry, to show my innocence, but it's too funny!i almost forgive you the fright you gave me! you looked so glum, i thought i might havebeen walking in my sleep and killing people.'it couldn't be acting, it was too confoundedly genuine. my heart went into my boots, and my firstimpulse was to apologize and clear out. but i told myself i must see it through,even though i was to be the laughing-stock of britain.

the light from the dinner-tablecandlesticks was not very good, and to cover my confusion i got up, walked to thedoor and switched on the electric light. the sudden glare made them blink, and istood scanning the three faces. well, i made nothing of it.one was old and bald, one was stout, one was dark and thin. there was nothing in their appearance toprevent them being the three who had hunted me in scotland, but there was nothing toidentify them. i simply can't explain why i who, as aroadman, had looked into two pairs of eyes, and as ned ainslie into another pair, whyi, who have a good memory and reasonable

powers of observation, could find nosatisfaction. they seemed exactly what they professed tobe, and i could not have sworn to one of them. there in that pleasant dining-room, withetchings on the walls, and a picture of an old lady in a bib above the mantelpiece, icould see nothing to connect them with the moorland desperadoes. there was a silver cigarette-box beside me,and i saw that it had been won by percival appleton, esq., of the st bede's club, in agolf tournament. i had to keep a firm hold of peter pienaarto prevent myself bolting out of that

house.'well,' said the old man politely, 'are you reassured by your scrutiny, sir?' i couldn't find a word.'i hope you'll find it consistent with your duty to drop this ridiculous business.i make no complaint, but you'll see how annoying it must be to respectable people.' i shook my head.'o lord,' said the young man. 'this is a bit too thick!''do you propose to march us off to the police station?' asked the plump one. 'that might be the best way out of it, buti suppose you won't be content with the

local branch. i have the right to ask to see yourwarrant, but i don't wish to cast any aspersions upon you.you are only doing your duty. but you'll admit it's horribly awkward. what do you propose to do?'there was nothing to do except to call in my men and have them arrested, or toconfess my blunder and clear out. i felt mesmerized by the whole place, bythe air of obvious innocence--not innocence merely, but frank honest bewilderment andconcern in the three faces. 'oh, peter pienaar,' i groaned inwardly,and for a moment i was very near damning

myself for a fool and asking their pardon.'meantime i vote we have a game of bridge,' said the plump one. 'it will give mr hannay time to think overthings, and you know we have been wanting a fourth player.do you play, sir?' i accepted as if it had been an ordinaryinvitation at the club. the whole business had mesmerized me. we went into the smoking-room where a card-table was set out, and i was offered things to smoke and drink.i took my place at the table in a kind of dream.

the window was open and the moon wasflooding the cliffs and sea with a great tide of yellow light.there was moonshine, too, in my head. the three had recovered their composure,and were talking easily--just the kind of slangy talk you will hear in any golf club-house. i must have cut a rum figure, sitting thereknitting my brows with my eyes wandering. my partner was the young dark one.i play a fair hand at bridge, but i must have been rank bad that night. they saw that they had got me puzzled, andthat put them more than ever at their ease. i kept looking at their faces, but theyconveyed nothing to me.

it was not that they looked different; theywere different. i clung desperately to the words of peterpienaar. then something awoke me. the old man laid down his hand to light acigar. he didn't pick it up at once, but sat backfor a moment in his chair, with his fingers tapping on his knees. it was the movement i remembered when i hadstood before him in the moorland farm, with the pistols of his servants behind me. a little thing, lasting only a second, andthe odds were a thousand to one that i

might have had my eyes on my cards at thetime and missed it. but i didn't, and, in a flash, the airseemed to clear. some shadow lifted from my brain, and i waslooking at the three men with full and absolute recognition. the clock on the mantelpiece struck teno'clock. the three faces seemed to change before myeyes and reveal their secrets. the young one was the murderer. now i saw cruelty and ruthlessness, wherebefore i had only seen good-humour. his knife, i made certain, had skeweredscudder to the floor.

his kind had put the bullet in karolides. the plump man's features seemed to dislimn,and form again, as i looked at them. he hadn't a face, only a hundred masks thathe could assume when he pleased. that chap must have been a superb actor. perhaps he had been lord alloa of the nightbefore; perhaps not; it didn't matter. i wondered if he was the fellow who hadfirst tracked scudder, and left his card on him. scudder had said he lisped, and i couldimagine how the adoption of a lisp might add terror.but the old man was the pick of the lot.

he was sheer brain, icy, cool, calculating,as ruthless as a steam hammer. now that my eyes were opened i wonderedwhere i had seen the benevolence. his jaw was like chilled steel, and hiseyes had the inhuman luminosity of a bird's.i went on playing, and every second a greater hate welled up in my heart. it almost choked me, and i couldn't answerwhen my partner spoke. only a little longer could i endure theircompany. 'whew! bob! look at the time,' said the oldman. 'you'd better think about catching yourtrain.

bob's got to go to town tonight,' he added,turning to me. the voice rang now as false as hell.i looked at the clock, and it was nearly half-past ten. 'i am afraid he must put off his journey,'i said. 'oh, damn,' said the young man.'i thought you had dropped that rot. i've simply got to go. you can have my address, and i'll give anysecurity you like.' 'no,' i said, 'you must stay.'at that i think they must have realized that the game was desperate.

their only chance had been to convince methat i was playing the fool, and that had failed.but the old man spoke again. 'i'll go bail for my nephew. that ought to content you, mr hannay.'was it fancy, or did i detect some halt in the smoothness of that voice? there must have been, for as i glanced athim, his eyelids fell in that hawk-like hood which fear had stamped on my memory.i blew my whistle. in an instant the lights were out. a pair of strong arms gripped me round thewaist, covering the pockets in which a man

might be expected to carry a pistol.'schnell, franz,' cried a voice, 'das boot, das boot!' as it spoke i saw two of my fellows emergeon the moonlit lawn. the young dark man leapt for the window,was through it, and over the low fence before a hand could touch him. i grappled the old chap, and the roomseemed to fill with figures. i saw the plump one collared, but my eyeswere all for the out-of-doors, where franz sped on over the road towards the railedentrance to the beach stairs. one man followed him, but he had no chance.

the gate of the stairs locked behind thefugitive, and i stood staring, with my hands on the old boy's throat, for such atime as a man might take to descend those steps to the sea. suddenly my prisoner broke from me andflung himself on the wall. there was a click as if a lever had beenpulled. then came a low rumbling far, far below theground, and through the window i saw a cloud of chalky dust pouring out of theshaft of the stairway. someone switched on the light. the old man was looking at me with blazingeyes.

'he is safe,' he cried.'you cannot follow in time ... he is gone ... he has triumphed ...der schwarze stein ist in der siegeskrone.' there was more in those eyes than anycommon triumph. they had been hooded like a bird of prey,and now they flamed with a hawk's pride. a white fanatic heat burned in them, and irealized for the first time the terrible thing i had been up against. this man was more than a spy; in his foulway he had been a patriot. as the handcuffs clinked on his wrists isaid my last word to him.

'i hope franz will bear his triumph well. i ought to tell you that the ariadne forthe last hour has been in our hands.' three weeks later, as all the world knows,we went to war. i joined the new army the first week, andowing to my matabele experience got a captain's commission straight off.but i had done my best service, i think, before i put on khaki.

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