The Thirty-Nine Steps

of the Spect

crest of the pass and t

ue dimness melted into the distance. To left and right were round-shouldered green hills as smooth as pancakes, but to the south-that is, the left hand-there was a glimpse of high heathery mountains, which I remembered from the map as the big knot of hill which I had chosen for my sanct

inous beat in the air. Then I realized that my vantage-ground might be in

d it dropped several hundred feet and began to circle round the knot of hill in narrowing circles, just as a hawk wheels before it pounces. No

d the next I knew it was speeding eastward ag

had seen my bicycle, and would conclude that I would try to escape by the road. In that case there might be a chance on the moors to the right or left. I wheeled the machine a hundred yards from the highway, and

light till it had the fragrant sunniness of the South African veld. At other times I would have liked the place, but

dge which was the containing wall of the pass. I saw the highroad for maybe ten miles, and far down it something that was mov

gs for which most men need a telescope ... Away down the slope, a couple of

ed was getting nearer, but it was still a long way off with some very steep gradients before it. I ran hard, crouching low except in the hollows, and as

sense, but how on earth was I to escape notice in that table-cloth of a place? I would have buried myself to the neck in mud or lain below water or climbed the tallest tree. But

oad, beside a heap of sto

y flinging down his hammer. He look

at large. 'There I was my ain maister. Now I'm a slave to the Goavernm

implement with an oath, and put both hands to his

but much bent, with a week's beard on hi

ain. 'The Surveyor maun just

e trouble, though indee

d they danced till fower in the byre. Me and some ither chiels sat down to the

urveyor would be round the day. He'll come and he'll no find me, or else he'll find me fou, and either way I'm a done m

on. 'Does the new Surve

ob. He rins about in a wee motor-cawr,

nd was directed by a wavering fi

nd sleep in peace. I'll take on your

tion dawned on his fuddled brain, his fa

frae yon quarry doon the road to mak anither bing the morn. My name's Alexander Turnbull, and I've been seeven year at the trade, and twenty afore that herdin' on Leithen Water. My fr

of a clay pipe as an extra property. He indicated my simple tasks, and without more ado set off at an amble bedwards. Bed may have been his chief objec

and rough with old scars. I got my boots and trouser-legs all white from the dust of the road, and hitched up my trousers, tying them with string below the knee. Then I set to work on my face. With a handful of dust I made a water-mark round my neck, the place where Mr Turnb

th great relish several of the thick slabs of scone and cheese and drank a little of the cold tea. In the handkerchief was a local paper tied with st

finger-nails till the edges were all cracked and uneven. The men I was matched against would miss no detail. I broke one of the bootlaces and retied it in a clumsy knot, a

arrow and began my journeys to and

said, 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 ho

ent, 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 ev

he section from Laidlawbyres to the Riggs? Good! A fair bit of road, Turnbull, and not badly engineered. A little soft abou

eered 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-poc

a big car stole down the hill, glided past and drew up a hundred yards beyond. It

ther comfortable and smiling. The third had the look of a countryman-a vet, perhaps, or a small farme

last. 'That's a fine

ned my back, after the manner of roadmen; spat vigorously, after the manner of the low Scot; an

, sittin' a' day on your hinderlands on thae cushions. It's you and your muckle cawrs

oking at the newspaper lyi

our papers in go

time. Seein' that that paper cam' out

down again. One of the others had been looking at my boots,

,' he said. 'These were never

t was here last year for the shootin'. What was his name now?' And I scratched a forgetful he

d one las

this morning? He might be on a

cyclist hurrying past in the grey dawn. But I had the sen

t up late. I opened the house door about seeven and there was naebody on the road then. Sin

ly and stuck in Turnbull's bundle. They got into

ones. It was as well, for ten minutes later the car returned, one of

r 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 ro

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 way to visit some of his smart friends. A sudden daftness took me, a

He got a horrid fright. His chin dropped as he

I said. 'From Rhod

he murderer!

my dear, if you don't do as I tell you. G

op 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

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

ly borrowing your car for an hour or two. But if you play me any tricks, and above all

veral strange-looking folk lounging by the roadside. These were the watchers who would have had much to say to me if I had co

lages were left behind, then the farms, and then even the wayside cottage. Presently we came to a lonely moor where the night was blac

e's more use in you than I thought

crime I had now sampled. Contrary to general belief, I was not a murderer, but I had become an