Free The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan

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 scandalmonger,
     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