Free The Leithen Stories by John Buchan Page A

emerging passengers. It was clear that the espionage was no figment of my brain.
    I walked slowly to my chambers, and got through the day’s work as best I could, for my mind was preoccupied with the unpleasant business in which I found myself entangled. I would have given a year’s income to be honestly quit of it, but there seemed to be no way of escape. The maddening thing was that I could do so little. There was no chance of forgetting anxiety in strenuous work. I could only wait with the patience at my command, and hope for the one chance in a thousand which I might seize. I felt miserably that it was no game for me. I had never been brought up to harry wild beasts and risk my neck twice a day at polo like Tommy Deloraine. I was a peaceful sedentary man, a lover of a quiet life, with no appetite for perils and commotions. But I was beginning to realise that I was very obstinate.
    At four o’clock I left the Temple and walked to the Embassy. I had resolved to banish the espionage from my mind, for that was the least of my difficulties.
    Felix gave me an hour of his valuable time. It was something that Tommy had joined Pitt-Heron, but there were other matters to be arranged in that far country. The time had come, in my opinion, to tell him the whole story.
    The telling was a huge relief to my mind. He did not laugh at me as I had half feared, but took the whole thing as gravely as possible. In his profession, I fancy, he had found too many certainties behind suspicions to treat anything as trivial. The next step, he said, was to warn the Russian police of the presence of the man called Sarenov and the super-butler. Happily we had materials for the description of Tuke or Routh, and I could not believe that such a figure would be hard to trace. Felix cabled again in cypher, asking that the two should be watched, more especially if there was reason to believe that they had followed Tommy’s route. Once more we got out the big map and discussed the possible ways. It seemed to me a land created by Providence for surprises, for the roads followed the valleys, and to the man who travelled light there must be many short cuts through the hills.
    I left the Embassy before six o’clock and, crossing the Square engrossed with my own thoughts, ran full into Lumley.
    I hope I played my part well, though I could not repress astart of surprise. He wore a grey morning-coat and a white top-hat, and looked the image of benevolent respectability.
    â€˜Ah, Mr Leithen,’ he said, ‘we meet again.’
    I murmured something about my regrets at my early departure three days ago, and added the feeble joke that I wished he would hurry on his Twilight of Civilisation, for the burden of it was becoming too much for me.
    He looked me in the eyes with all the friendliness in the world. ‘So you have not forgotten our evening’s talk? You owe me something, my friend, for giving you a new interest in your profession.’
    â€˜I owe you much,’ I said, ‘for your hospitality, your advice, and your warnings.’
    He was wearing his tinted glasses, and peered quizzically into my face.
    â€˜I am going to make a call in Grosvenor Place,’ he said, ‘and shall beg in return the pleasure of your company. So you know my young friend, Pitt-Heron?’
    With an ingenuous countenance I explained that he had been at Oxford with me and that we had common friends.
    â€˜A brilliant young man,’ said Lumley. ‘Like you, he has occasionally cheered an old man’s solitude. And he has spoken of me to you?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said, lying stoutly. ‘He used to tell me about your collections.’ (If Lumley knew Charles well he would find me out, for the latter would not have crossed the road for all the treasures of the Louvre.)
    â€˜Ah, yes, I have picked up a few things. If ever you should care to see them I should be honoured. You are a connoisseur? Of a sort? You interest me, for I