Mr. Standfast

ntures o

'But losh! man, what have ye done to your breeks! And your

ad not been cleaned for a week, and the same hills had rent my jacket at the shoulders, and to

ide Amos and lit my pipe. 'Di

Mr Brand, but I wish ye were back in London.' He sucked at his pipe, and the shaggy

their best to upset your plans and you no able to enlighten them. I could send word to the Chief Constable and get ye through to London without a stop like a load of fish from

very big risk,'

and there was a wee blackavised man with him that got out at the Kyle. He's there still, stoppi

n does not

leave muckle to chance. Be very certain that every man in Gresson's lot k

got it wrong

eck of yesterday, and I've brought the best I could do for ye in the gig. I w

style; there was a ready-made overcoat of some dark cloth, of the kind that a clerk wears on the road to the office; there was a pair of

got a new name, Mr Brand, and I've taken a room for ye in the hotel on the strength of it. Ye're Archibald McCaskie, and ye're travellin' for the firm o' Todd, Sons &

lapsed into the sombre chuckle wh

llar, though here I struck a snag, for I had lost my scarf somewhere in the Coolin, and Amos, pelican-like, had to surrender the

forgotten. Ye're an Edinburgh man, but ye were some years in London, which explains the way ye speak. Ye bide at 6, Russell Street, off the Mea

the Englis

n ... If I was you, I would daunder about here for a bit, and no arrive at your hotel till after dark. Then ye can have your supper and gang to bed. The Muirtown trai

d into the clachan and got a boat to put me over to the inn. It proved to be a comfortable place, with a motherly old landlady who showed me to my room and promised ham and eggs and co

without thinking how Mary fitted into it. For her sake I held Biggleswick delectable, because I had seen her there. I wasn't sure if this was love, but it was something I had never drea

infamous lamp, he seemed a small, alert fellow, with a bushy, black moustache, and black ha

Leith. A minute later he had whipped out a card on which I read 'J. J. Linklater', and in

t to stop the drink, let them buy us out. They've permitted us to invest good money in the trade, and they must see that we get it back. The other way will wreck public credit. That's what I say. Supposin' some Labour Government takes the notion that soap's bad for the nation? Are they goin'

m and he

oreign. The war's hit us wi' our export trade, of course, b

he was keenl

the number. I had a kind of ambition to start a book-sellin' shop of my own and to make Linklater o' Paisley a big name in the trade. But I got the offer from Hatherwick's, and I was wantin' to get married, so filthy lucre won the

Amos's bagman, who had been seen in company with Gresson, I understood how idle may be the suspicions of a clever

as a warm, thick morning, with no sun visible, and the Skye hills misty to their base. The three coaches on the little train were ne

along the platform and clambered in beside me. A cheery 'Mo

towards the north. It was a drowsy day, and in that atmosphere of shag and crowded humanity I felt my eyes

wn,' he said. 'Have ye nothing in yo

d in China, and Little Susie and her Uncle. There was a Life of David Livingstone, a child's book on sea-shells, and a richly gilt edition of the poems of one James Montgomery. I offered the selection to Mr Linklater, who grinned and chose the Missionary Child. 'It's

ing, but as soon as I decently could I pretended to be absorbed in the Pilgrim's Progress, a gaudy copy of which was among the samples. It opened at the episode of Christian and Hopeful in the Enchanted Ground, and in that stuffy carriage I presently followed the example of Heedless and Too-Bold and fell sound asleep. I was awakened by the train rumbling over the points of a little moorland junction. Sunk in a pleasing lethargy, I sat with my eyes closed, and then covertly took a glance at my companion. He had a

ick as lightning he slid his pencil up his

up along with fifty others. I paid five shillings for the lot. It looks l

face. It was German right enough, a little manual of hydrography with no publisher's name on i

f a scholar, barring a little French and the Latin I got at He

in time that I was an elder in the Nethergate U.F. Church and refused with some asp

, and I must appear to take him literally on his professions. So, presently, I woke up and engaged him in a disputatious conversation about the morality of selling strong liquors. He responded readily, and put the case for alcohol with much point and vehemence. The discussion i

nd reflected for an hour. I stuck my head out of the window now and then, and smelt the rooty fragrance of bogs, and when we halted o

was an argument between a lance-corporal in the Camerons an

tz was shelling the road, and we didna get up to the line till one o'clock in the morn

,' said the sapp

've tra

k up wire every n

her man here that kent the place. He wad bear me out. These boys are

said th

felt his veracity assailed. It was too hot for a

. 'The distance is six kilom

ed the wrangle, but it was not the tone of a pub

re, Mr McCaskie?'

d divide by eight an

s case. 'Besides,' I said, 'I'm a great student o' the newspapers, and I've read all the books about the war. It's a difficult time this for us al

nd I thought he watched me

the employ of our own Secret Service? I had appeared out of the void at the Kyle, and I had made but a poor appearance as a bagman, showing no knowledge of my own trade. I wa

t we?' I asked. 'When does t

generally four hours to wait, for we're due in at six-fift

North Sea. Then we were hung up while a long goods train passed down the line. It was almost dar

you later on the Edinburgh train. I'm for a walk to stretch my legs, and a bite o' sup

owards the guard's van to find his luggage, and the soldiers were sitting on their packs with that air of being utterly and finally lost and neglected wh

per making the night hideous at a corner. I took a tortuous route and finally fixed on a modest-looking public-house in a back street. When I inquired for a room I could find no one in authority, but a slatternly girl informed me that

t ale. There was nobody in the place but two farmers drinking hot whisky and water and discussing with sombre interest the rise in the price of feed

the leader of the lot, and it was to celebrate the end of his leave that he was entertaining his pals. From where I sat I could not see him, but his voice was dominant. 'What's your fancy, jock?

aker, and then I hastily drew back. It was the Scots Fusilier I ha

fatality he had c

ing, but if you have once fought with a man, though only for a few seconds, you remember hi

. He laid me oot, and it's my turn to do the same wi' him. I had a notion I was gaun to mak' a nicht o't. There's naebody c

best composure I could mus

er clapped eyes on you before, and

er. 'Ye're the man, and if ye're no, y

rel with you, and I've better things to do than

ye, and then ye'll hae to fecht whether ye want it or no

e worst of that was that I did not know where the thing would end. I might have to fight the lot of them, and that meant a noble public shindy. I did my best to speak my opponent fair. I said we were all good frien

h led to the other part of the inn. I grabbed my hat, darted up them, and before they realized

nd which seemed to connect the street door of the inn itself with the back

be the landlord's, and a third which sounded like some superior sort of constable's, very prompt and official. I heard one phrase, too, from Linklater-'He calls h

ver a tub of water. I planted the thing so that anyone coming that way would fall over it. A door led me into an empty stable, and from that into a lane. It was all absurdly easy, bu

ch showed at one end the lights of a street. So I took the other way, for I wasn't going to have the whole population of Muirtown on the hue-and-cry after me. I came into a country lane, and I also ca

impossible. Behind me I could hear the pursuers, giving tongue like hound puppies, for they had attracted some pretty drunken gentlemen to their party. I was badly puzzled where to turn, when I noticed outside the station a long line of blurred lights, which could only mean a train with the carriage blinds down. It had

n the footboard, and looked into an open window. The compartment was packed with troops, six a side and two men sitting on the floor, and

nfinite sympathy of the British soldier towards those thus overtaken. They pulled me to my f

d train and I mus' be in E'inburgh 'morrow or I'll get the sack. I 'po

accept, Pete,' said one. 'It's the first tim

, and I appeared to be s

en'lmen-an awful warning to be in time for trains. I'm John Johnstone, managing clerk to Messrs W

in France,'

dam good. Ye've varicose veins and a bad heart," they said. So I says, "Good m

train had got up speed, and as I judged it to be a special of some kind I looked for few stoppings. Moreover it was not a corridor carriage, but one of the old-fashioned kind, so I was s

with everybody's hand and foot against me. It was an ugly sensation, and it was not redeemed by any acute fear or any knowledge of being mixed up in some desperate drama. I knew I could easily go on to Edinburgh, and when the police made trouble, as they would, a wire to Scotland Yard would settle matters in a cou

vant wanted to know, and I had only to return unostentatiously to London to have won out on the game. I told

Amos had observed, were not respectable. I had got rid of a four-days' beard the night before, but had cut myself in the process, and what with my weather-beaten face and tangled hair looked liker a tinker than a decent bagman. I thought with longing of my portmanteau in the Pentland Hotel, Edinburgh, and the

the door, till I remembered it was locked. Thereupon I stuck my legs out of the window on the side away f

said. 'I'll be

'Ye ken what a man's like when he's been

face looked out of one of the back carriages. It was Linklater and he recognized me. He tried to get out, but the door was promptly slammed by an indignant porter.

nd a gun-case. His clothes were beautiful, a green Homburg hat, a smart green tweed overcoat, and boots as brightl

ted myself, dilapidated and dishevelled, to the off

an who has ju

s your

my luggage behind me. Take it out of that pound and I'll come back

that's the name. He's a captain up at the F

office and found my man about

d and beat him o

nition crept into his face and he gave a joyous shout. 'My holy aunt! T