s anywhere as an ordinary Scotsman. I had half
an idea at first to be a German tourist, for my father had had German
partners, and I had been brought up to speak the tongue pretty
fluently, not to mention having put in three years prospecting for
copper in German Damaraland. But I calculated that it would be less
conspicuous to be a Scot, and less in a line with what the police might
know of my past. I fixed on Galloway as the best place to go. It was
the nearest wild part of Scotland, so far as I could figure it out, and
from the look of the map was not over thick with population.

A search in Bradshaw informed me that a train left St Pancras at 7.10,
which would land me at any Galloway station in the late afternoon.
That was well enough, but a more important matter was how I was to make
my way to St Pancras, for I was pretty certain that Scudder's friends
would be watching outside. This puzzled me for a bit; then I had an
inspiration, on which I went to bed and slept for two troubled hours.

I got up at four and opened my bedroom shutters. The faint light of a
fine summer morning was flooding the skies, and the sparrows had begun
to chatter. I had a great revulsion of feeling, and felt a
God-forgotten fool. My inclination was to let things slide, and trust
to the British police taking a reasonable view of my case. But as I
reviewed the situation I could find no arguments to bring against my
decision of the previous night, so with a wry mouth I resolved to go on
with my plan. I was not feeling in any particular funk; only
disinclined to go looking for trouble, if you understand me.

I hunted out a well-used tweed suit, a pair of strong nailed boots, and
a flannel shirt with a collar. Into my pockets I stuffed a spare
shirt, a cloth cap, some handkerchiefs, and a tooth-brush. I had drawn
a good sum in gold from the bank two days before, in case Scudder
should want money, and I took fifty pounds of it in sovereigns in a
belt which I had brought back from Rhodesia. That was about all I
wanted. Then I had a bath, and cut my moustache, which was long and
drooping, into a short stubbly fringe.

Now came the next step. Paddock used to arrive punctually at 7.30 and
let himself in with a latch-key. But about twenty minutes to seven, as
I knew from bitter experience, the milkman turned up with a great
clatter of cans, and deposited my share outside my door. I had seen
that milkman sometimes when I had gone ou