第 8 页

unless you could manage to convince yourself that you were it. So I

shut off all other thoughts and switched them on to the road-

mending. I thought of the little white cottage as my home, I

recalled the years I had spent herding on Leithen Water, I made my

mind dwell lovingly on sleep in a box-bed and a bottle of cheap

whisky. Still nothing appeared on that long white road.

Now and then a sheep wandered off the heather to stare at me. A

heron flopped down to a pool in the stream and started to fish,

taking no more notice of me than if I had been a milestone. On I

went, trundling my loads of stone, with the heavy step of the

professional. Soon I grew warm, and the dust on my face changed

into solid and abiding grit. I was already counting the hours till

evening should put a limit to Mr Turnbull's monotonous toil.

Suddenly a crisp voice spoke from the road, and looking up I

saw a little Ford two-seater, and a round-faced young man in a

bowler hat.

'Are you Alexander Turnbull?' he asked. 'I am the new County

Road Surveyor. You live at Blackhopefoot, and have charge of the

section from Laidlawbyres to the Riggs? Good! A fair bit of road,

Turnbull, and not badly engineered. A little soft about a mile off,

and the edges want cleaning. See you look after that. Good morning.

You'll know me the next time you see me.'

Clearly my get-up was good enough for the dreaded Surveyor. I

went on with my work, and as the morning grew towards noon I

was cheered by a little traffic. A baker's van breasted the hill, and

sold me a bag of ginger biscuits which I stowed in my trouser-

pockets against emergencies. Then a herd passed with sheep, and

disturbed me somewhat by asking loudly, 'What had become o' Specky?'

'In bed wi' the colic,' I replied, and the herd passed on ...

just about mid-day a big car stole down the hill, glided past and

drew up a hundred yards beyond. Its three occupants descended as

if to stretch their legs, and sauntered towards me.

Two of the men I had seen before from the window of the

Galloway inn - one lean, sharp, and dark, the other comfortable

and smiling. The third had the look of a countryman - a vet,

perhaps, or a small farmer. He was dressed in ill-cut knickerbockers,

and the eye in his head was as bright and wary as a hen's.

"Morning,' said the last. 'That's a fine easy job o' yours.'

I had not looked up on their approach, and now, when accosted,

I slowly and painfully straightened my back, after the manner of

roadmen; spat vigorously, after the manner of the low Scot; and

regarded them steadily before replying. I confronted three pairs of

eyes that missed nothing.

'There's waur jobs and there's better,' I said sententiously. 'I wad

rather hae yours, sittin' a' day on your hinderlands on thae cushions.

It's you and your muckle cawrs that wreck my roads! If we a' had

oor richts, ye sud be made to mend what ye break.'

The bright-eyed man was looking at the newspaper lying beside

Turnbull's bundle.

'I see you get your papers in good time,' he said.

I glanced at it casually. 'Aye, in gude time. Seein' that that paper

cam' out last Setterday I'm just Sax days late.'

He picked it up, glanced at the superscription, and laid it down

again. One of the others had been looking at my boots, and a word

in German called the speaker's attention to them.

'You've a fine taste in boots,' he said. 'These were never made

by a country shoemaker.'

'They were not,' I said readily. 'They were made in London. I

got them frae the gentleman that was here last year for the shootin'.

What was his name now?' And I scratched a forgetful head.

Again the sleek one spoke in German. 'Let us get on,' he said.

'This fellow is all right.'

They asked one last question.

'Did you see anyone pass early this morning? He might be on a

bicycle or he might be on foot.'

I very nearly fell into the trap and told a story of a bicyclist

hurrying past in the grey dawn. But I had the sense to see my

danger. I pretended to consider very deeply.

'I wasna up very early,' I said. 'Ye see, my dochter was merrit

last nicht, and we keepit it up late. I opened the house door about

seeven and there was naebody on the road then. Since I cam' up

here there has just been the baker and the Ruchill herd, besides you

gentlemen.'

One of them gave me a cigar, which I smelt gingerly and stuck

in Turnbull's bundle. They got into their car and were out of sight

in three minutes.

My heart leaped with an enormous relief, but I went on wheeling

my stones. It was as well, for ten minutes later the car returned, one

of the occupants waving a hand to me. Those gentry left nothing

to chance.

I finished Turnbull's bread and cheese, and pretty soon I had

finished the stones. The next step was what puzzled me. I could not

keep up this roadmaking business for long. A merciful Providence

had kept Mr Turnbull indoors, but if he appeared on the scene

there would be trouble. I had a notion that the cordon was still

tight round the glen, and that if I walked in any direction I should

meet with questioners. But get out I must. No man's nerve could

stand more than a day of being spied on.

I stayed at my post till five o'clock. By that time I had resolved

to go down to Turnbull's cottage at nightfall and take my chance

of getting over the hills in the darkness. But suddenly a new car

came up the road, and slowed down a yard or two from me. A

fresh wind had risen, and the occupant wanted to light a cigarette.

It was a touring car, with the tonneau full of an assortment of

baggage. One man sat in it, and by an amazing chance I knew him.

His name was Marmaduke jopley, and he was an offence to creation.

He was a sort of blood stockbroker, who did his business by

toadying eldest sons and rich young peers and foolish old ladies.

'Marmie' was a familiar figure, I understood, at balls and polo-

weeks and country houses. He was an adroit scandal-monger, and

would crawl a mile on his belly to anything that had a title or a

million. I had a business introduction to his firm when I came to

London, and he was good enough to ask me to dinner at his club.

There he showed off at a great rate, and pattered about his duchesses

till the snobbery of the creature turned me sick. I asked a man

afterwards why nobody kicked him, and was told that Englishmen

reverenced the weaker sex.

Anyhow there he was now, nattily dressed, in a fine new car,

obviously on his way to visit some of his smart friends. A sudden

daftness took me, and in a second I had jumped into the tonneau

and had him by the shoulder.

'Hullo, jopley,' I sang out. 'Well met, my lad!' He got a horrid

fright. His chin dropped as he stared at me. 'Who the devil are

YOU?' he gasped.

'My name's Hannay,' I said. 'From Rhodesia, you remember.'

'Good God, the murderer!' he choked.

'Just so. And there'll be a second murder, my dear, if you don't

do as I tell you. Give me that coat of yours. That cap, too.'

He did as bid, for he was blind with terror. Over my dirty

trousers and vulgar shirt I put on his smart driving-coat, which

buttoned high at the top and thereby hid the deficiencies of my

collar. I stuck the cap on my head, and added his gloves to my get-

up. The dusty roadman in a minute was transformed into one of

the neatest motorists in Scotland. On Mr jopley's head I clapped

Turnbull's unspeakable hat, and told him to keep it there.

Then with some difficulty I turned the car. My plan was to go

back the road he had come, for the watchers, having seen it before,

would probably let it pass unremarked, and Marmie's figure was in

no way like mine.

'Now, my child,' I said, 'sit quite still and be a good boy. I mean

you no harm. I'm only borrowing your car for an hour or two. But

if you play me any tricks, and above all if you open your mouth, as

sure as there's a God above me I'll wring your neck. SAVEZ?'

I enjoyed that evening's ride. We ran eight miles down the

valley, through a village or two, and I could not help noticing

several strange-looking folk lounging by the roadside. These were

the watchers who would have had much to say to me if I had come

in other garb or company. As it was, they looked incuriously on.

One touched his cap in salute, and I responded graciously.

As the dark fell I turned up a side glen which, as I remember

from the map, led into an unfrequented corner of the hills. Soon

the villages were left behind, then the farms, and then even the

wayside cottage. Presently we came to a lonely moor where the

night was blackening the sunset gleam in the bog pools. Here we

stopped, and I obligingly reversed the car and restored to Mr

jopley his belongings.

'A thousand thanks,' I said. 'There's more use in you than I

thought. Now be off and find the police.'

As I sat on the hillside, watching the tail-light dwindle, I reflected

on the various kinds of crime I had now sampled. Contrary to

general belief, I was not a murderer, but I had become an unholy

liar, a shameless impostor, and a highwayman with a marked taste

for expensive motor-cars.

CHAPTER SIX

The Adventure of the Bald Archaeologist

I spent the night on a shelf of the hillside, 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 was Scudder'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 by worming 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 feeling that I was going to pull the thing through.

My chief trouble was that I was desperately hungry. When a Jew

shoots himself in the City and there is an inquest, the newspapers

usually report that the deceased was 'well-nourished'. I remember

thinking that they would not call me well-nourished if I broke my

neck in a bog-hole. I lay and tortured myself - for the ginger

biscuits merely emphasized the aching void - with the memory of

all the good food I had thought so little of in London. There were

Paddock's crisp sausages and fragrant shavings of bacon, and

shapely poached eggs - how often I had turned up my nose at

them! There were the cutlets they did at the club, and a particular

ham that stood on the cold table, for which my soul lusted. My

thoughts hovered over all varieties of mortal edible, and finally

settled on a porterhouse steak and a quart of bitter with a welsh

rabbit to follow. In longing hopelessly for these dainties I

fell asleep.

I woke very cold and stiff about an hour after dawn. It took me

a little while to remember where I was, for I had been very weary

and had slept heavily. I saw first the pale blue sky through a net of

heather, then a big shoulder of hill, and then my own boots placed

neatly in a blaeberry bush. I raised myself on my arms and looked

down into the valley, and that one look set me lacing up my boots

in mad haste.

For there were men below, not more than a quarter of a mile off,

spaced out on the hillside like a fan, and beating the heather.

Marmie had not been slow in looking for his revenge.

I crawled out of my shelf into the cover of a boulder, and from it

gained a shallow trench which slanted up the mountain face. This led

me presently into the narrow gully of 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

the hillside and moving upwards.

Keeping behind the skyline I ran for maybe half a mile, till I

judged I was above the uppermost end of the glen. Then I showed

myself, and was instantly noted by one of the flankers, who passed

the word to the others. I heard cries coming up from below, and

saw that 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 ridge overlooking my sleeping

place. From that viewpoint I had the satisfaction of seeing the

pursuit streaming up the hill at the top of the glen on a hopelessly

false scent.

I had before me a choice of routes, and I chose a ridge which

made an angle with the one I was on, and so would soon put a

deep glen between me and my enemies. The exercise had warmed

my blood, and I was beginning to enjoy myself amazingly. As I

went I breakfasted on the dusty remnants of the ginger biscuits.

I knew very little about the country, and I hadn't a notion what I

was going to do. I trusted to the strength of my legs, but I was

well aware that those behind me would be familiar with the lie of

the land, and that my ignorance would be a heavy handicap. I saw

in front of me a sea of hills, rising very high towards the south, but

northwards breaking down into broad ridges which separated wide

and shallow dales. The ridge I had chosen seemed to sink after a

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 first heads