The Thirty-Nine Steps Page 12

  ‘By Jove, yes. Just think of it! What a story to tell at the club. Really, Mr Hannay, I suppose I should be angry, to show my innocence, but it’s too funny! I almost forgive you the fright you gave me! You looked so glum, I thought I might have been walking in my sleep and killing people.’

  It couldn’t be acting, it was too confoundedly genuine. My heart went into my boots, and my first impulse was to apologize and clear out. But I told myself I must see it through, even though I was to be the laughing-stock of Britain. The light from the dinner-table candlesticks was not very good, and to cover my confusion I got up, walked to the door and switched on the electric light. The sudden glare made them blink, and I stood scanning the three faces.

  Well, I made nothing of it. One was old and bald, one was stout, one was dark and thin. There was nothing in their appearance to prevent them being the three who had hunted me in Scotland, but there was nothing to identify them. I simply can’t explain why I who, as a roadman, had looked into two pairs of eyes, and as Ned Ainslie into another pair, why I, who have a good memory and reasonable powers of observation, could find no satisfaction. They seemed exactly what they professed to be, and I could not have sworn to one of them.

  There in that pleasant dining-room, with etchings on the walls, and a picture of an old lady in a bib above the mantelpiece, I could see nothing to connect them with the moorland desperadoes. There was a silver cigarette-box beside me, and I saw that it had been won by Percival Appleton, Esq., of the St Bede’s Club, in a golf tournament. I had to keep a firm hold of Peter Pienaar to prevent myself bolting out of that house.

  ‘Well,’ said the old man politely, ‘are you reassured by your scrutiny, Sir?’

  I couldn’t find a word.

  ‘I hope you’ll find it consistent with your duty to drop this ridiculous business. I make no complaint, but you’ll see how annoying it must be to respectable people.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘O Lord,’ said the young man. ‘This is a bit too thick!’

  ‘Do you propose to march us off to the police station?’ asked the plump one. ‘That might be the best way out of it, but I suppose you won’t be content with the local branch. I have the right to ask to see your warrant, but I don’t wish to cast any aspersions upon you. You are only doing your duty. But you’ll admit it’s horribly awkward. What do you propose to do?’

  There was nothing to do except to call in my men and have them arrested, or to confess my blunder and clear out. I felt mesmerized by the whole place, by the air of obvious innocence—not innocence merely, but frank honest bewilderment and concern in the three faces.

  ‘Oh, Peter Pienaar,’ I groaned inwardly, and for a moment I was very near damning myself for a fool and asking their pardon.

  ‘Meantime I vote we have a game of bridge,’ said the plump one. ‘It will give Mr Hannay time to think over things, and you know we have been wanting a fourth player. Do you play, Sir?’

  I accepted as if it had been an ordinary invitation at the club. The whole business had mesmerized me. We went into the smoking-room where a card-table was set out, and I was offered things to smoke and drink. I took my place at the table in a kind of dream. The window was open and the moon was flooding the cliffs and sea with a great tide of yellow light. There was moonshine, too, in my head. The three had recovered their composure, and were talking easily—just the kind of slangy talk you will hear in any golf club-house. I must have cut a rum figure, sitting there knitting my brows with my eyes wandering.

  My partner was the young dark one. I play a fair hand at bridge, but I must have been rank bad that night. They saw that they had got me puzzled, and that put them more than ever at their ease. I kept looking at their faces, but they conveyed nothing to me. It was not that they looked different; they were different. I clung desperately to the words of Peter Pienaar.

  Then something awoke me.

  The old man laid down his hand to light a cigar. He didn’t pick it up at once, but sat back for a moment in his chair, with his fingers tapping on his knees.

  It was the movement I remembered when I had stood before him in the moorland farm, with the pistols of his servants behind me.

  A little thing, lasting only a second, and the odds were a thousand to one that I might have had my eyes on my cards at the time and missed it. But I didn’t, and, in a flash, the air seemed to clear. Some shadow lifted from my brain, and I was looking at the three men with full and absolute recognition.

  The clock on the mantelpiece struck ten o’clock.

  The three faces seemed to change before my eyes and reveal their secrets. The young one was the murderer. Now I saw cruelty and ruthlessness, where before I had only seen good-humour. His knife, I made certain, had skewered Scudder to the floor. His kind had put the bullet in Karolides.

  The plump man’s features seemed to dislimn, and form again, as I looked at them. He hadn’t a face, only a hundred masks that he could assume when he pleased. That chap must have been a superb actor. Perhaps he had been Lord Alloa of the night before; perhaps not; it didn’t matter. I wondered if he was the fellow who had first tracked Scudder, and left his card on him. Scudder had said he lisped, and I could imagine how the adoption of a lisp might add terror.

  But the old man was the pick of the lot. He was sheer brain, icy, cool, calculating, as ruthless as a steam hammer. Now that my eyes were opened I wondered where I had seen the benevolence. His jaw was like chilled steel, and his eyes had the inhuman luminosity of a bird’s. I went on playing, and every second a greater hate welled up in my heart. It almost choked me, and I couldn’t answer when my partner spoke. Only a little longer could I endure their company.

  ‘Whew! Bob! Look at the time,’ said the old man. ‘You’d better think about catching your train. Bob’s got to go to town tonight,’ he added, turning to me. The voice rang now as false as hell. I looked at the clock, and it was nearly half-past ten.

  ‘I am afraid he must put off his journey,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, damn,’ said the young man. ‘I thought you had dropped that rot. I’ve simply got to go. You can have my address, and I’ll give any security you like.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘you must stay.’

  At that I think they must have realized that the game was desperate. Their only chance had been to convince me that I was playing the fool, and that had failed. But the old man spoke again.

  ‘I’ll go bail for my nephew. That ought to content you, Mr Hannay.’ Was it fancy, or did I detect some halt in the smoothness of that voice?

  There must have been, for as I glanced at him, his eyelids fell in that hawk-like hood which fear had stamped on my memory.

  I blew my whistle.

  In an instant the lights were out. A pair of strong arms gripped me round the waist, covering the pockets in which a man might be expected to carry a pistol.

  ‘Schnell, Franz,’ cried a voice, ‘Das Boot, Das Boot!’ As it spoke I saw two of my fellows emerge on the moonlit lawn.

  The young dark man leapt for the window, was through it, and over the low fence before a hand could touch him. I grappled the old chap, and the room seemed to fill with figures. I saw the plump one collared, but my eyes were all for the out-of-doors, where Franz sped on over the road towards the railed entrance to the beach stairs. One man followed him, but he had no chance. The gate of the stairs locked behind the fugitive, and I stood staring, with my hands on the old boy’s throat, for such a time as a man might take to descend those steps to the sea.

  Suddenly my prisoner broke from me and flung himself on the wall. There was a click as if a lever had been pulled. Then came a low rumbling far, far below the ground, and through the window I saw a cloud of chalky dust pouring out of the shaft of the stairway.

  Someone switched on the light.

  The old man was looking at me with blazing eyes.

  ‘He is safe,’ he cried. ‘You cannot follow in time … He is gone … He has triumphed … Der Schwarzestein ist in der siegesk
rone.’

  There was more in those eyes than any common triumph. They had been hooded like a bird of prey, and now they flamed with a hawk’s pride. A white fanatic heat burned in them, and I realized for the first time the terrible thing I had been up against. This man was more than a spy; in his foul way he had been a patriot.

  As the handcuffs clinked on his wrists I said my last word to him.

  ‘I hope Franz will bear his triumph well. I ought to tell you that the Ariadne for the last hour has been in our hands.’

  Three weeks later, as all the world knows, we went to war. I joined the New Army the first week, and owing to my Matabele experience got a captain’s commission straight off. But I had done my best service, I think, before I put on khaki.

  CLASSIC LITERATURE: WORDS AND PHRASES

  adapted from the Collins English Dictionary

  Accoucheur NOUN a male midwife or doctor I think my sister must have had some general idea that I was a young offender whom an Accoucheur Policemen had taken up (on my birthday) and delivered over to her (Great Expectations by Charles Dickens)

  addled ADJ confused and unable to think properly But she counted and counted till she got that addled (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain)

  admiration NOUN amazement or wonder lifting up his hands and eyes by way of admiration (Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift)

  afeard ADJ afeard means afraid shake it – and don’t be afeard (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain)

  affected VERB affected means followed Hadst thou affected sweet divinity (Doctor Faustus 5.2 by Christopher Marlowe)

  aground ADV when a boat runs aground, it touches the ground in a shallow part of the water and gets stuck what kep’ you? – boat get aground? (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain)

  ague NOUN a fever in which the patient has alternate hot and cold shivering fits his exposure to the wet and cold had brought on fever and ague (Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens)

  alchemy ADJ false or worthless all wealth alchemy (The Sun Rising by John Donne)

  all alike PHRASE the same all the time Love, all alike (The Sun Rising by John Donne)

  alow and aloft PHRASE alow means in the lower part or bottom, and aloft means on the top, so alow and aloft means on the top and in the bottom or throughout Someone’s turned the chest out alow and aloft (Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson)

  ambuscade NOUN ambuscade is not a proper word. Tom means an ambush, which is when a group of people attack their enemies, after hiding and waiting for them and so we would lie in ambuscade, as he called it (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain)

  amiable ADJ likeable or pleasant Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves (Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen)

  amulet NOUN an amulet is a charm thought to drive away evil spirits. uttered phrases at once occult and familiar, like the amulet worn on the heart (Silas Marner by George Eliot)

  amusement NOUN here amusement means a strange and disturbing puzzle this was an amusement the other way (Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe)

  ancient NOUN an ancient was the flag displayed on a ship to show which country it belongs to. It is also called the ensign her ancient and pendants out (Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe)

  antic ADJ here antic means horrible or grotesque armed and dressed after a very antic manner (Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift)

  antics NOUN antics is an old word meaning clowns, or people who do silly things to make other people laugh And point like antics at his triple crown (Doctor Faustus 3.2 by Christopher Marlowe)

  appanage NOUN an appanage is a living allowance As if loveliness were not the special prerogative of woman – her legitimate appanage and heritage! (Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë)

  appended VERB appended means attached or added to and these words appended (Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson)

  approver NOUN an approver is someone who gives evidence against someone he used to work with Mr. Noah Claypole: receiving a free pardon from the Crown in consequence of being admitted approver against Fagin (Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens)

  areas NOUN the areas is the space, below street level, in front of the basement of a house The Dodger had a vicious propensity, too, of pulling the caps from the heads of small boys and tossing them down areas (Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens)

  argument NOUN theme or important idea or subject which runs through a piece of writing Thrice needful to the argument which now (The Prelude by William Wordsworth)

  artificially ADJ artfully or cleverly and he with a sharp flint sharpened very artificially (Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift)

  artist NOUN here artist means a skilled workman This man was a most ingenious artist (Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift)

  assizes NOUN assizes were regular court sessions which a visiting judge was in charge of you shall hang at the next assizes (Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson)

  attraction NOUN gravitation, or Newton’s theory of gravitation he predicted the same fate to attraction (Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift)

  aver VERB to aver is to claim something strongly for Jem Rodney, the mole catcher, averred that one evening as he was returning homeward (Silas Marner by George Eliot)

  baby NOUN here baby means doll, which is a child’s toy that looks like a small person and skilful dressing her baby (Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift)

  bagatelle NOUN bagatelle is a game rather like billiards and pool Breakfast had been ordered at a pleasant little tavern, a mile or so away upon the rising ground beyond the green; and there was a bagatelle board in the room, in case we should desire to unbend our minds after the solemnity. (Great Expectations by Charles Dickens)

  bah EXCLAM Bah is an exclamation of frustration or anger “Bah,” said Scrooge. (A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens)

  bairn NOUN a northern word for child Who has taught you those fine words, my bairn? (Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë)

  bait VERB to bait means to stop on a journey to take refreshment So, when they stopped to bait the horse, and ate and drank and enjoyed themselves, I could touch nothing that they touched, but kept my fast unbroken. (David Copperfield by Charles Dickens)

  balustrade NOUN a balustrade is a row of vertical columns that form railings but I mean to say you might have got a hearse up that staircase, and taken it broadwise, with the splinter-bar towards the wall, and the door towards the balustrades: and done it easy (A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens)

  bandbox NOUN a large lightweight box for carrying bonnets or hats I am glad I bought my bonnet, if it is only for the fun of having another bandbox (Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen)

  barren NOUN a barren here is a stretch or expanse of barren land a line of upright stones, continued the length of the barren (Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë)

  basin NOUN a basin was a cup without a handle who is drinking his tea out of a basin (Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë)

  battalia NOUN the order of battle till I saw part of his army in battalia (Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift)

  battery NOUN a Battery is a fort or a place where guns are positioned You bring the lot to me, at that old Battery over yonder (Great Expectations by Charles Dickens)

  battledore and shuttlecock NOUN The game battledore and shuttlecock was an early version of the game now known as badminton. The aim of the early game was simply to keep the shuttlecock from hitting the ground. Battledore and shuttlecock’s a wery good game vhen you an’t the shuttlecock and two lawyers the battledores, in which case it gets too excitin’ to be pleasant (Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens)

  beadle NOUN a beadle was a local official who had power over the poor But these impertinences were speedily checked by the evidence of the surgeon, and the testimony of the beadle (Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens)

  bearings NOUN the bearings of a place are the measurements or directions that are used to find or locate it the bearings of the island (Treasure Isla
nd by Robert Louis Stevenson)

  beaufet NOUN a beaufet was a sideboard and sweet-cake from the beaufet (Emma by Jane Austen)

  beck NOUN a beck is a small stream a beck which follows the bend of the glen (Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë)

  bedight VERB decorated and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top. (A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens)

  Bedlam NOUN Bedlam was a lunatic asylum in London which had statues carved by Caius Gabriel Cibber at its entrance Bedlam, and those carved maniacs at the gates (The Prelude by William Wordsworth)

  beeves NOUN oxen or castrated bulls which are animals used for pulling vehicles or carrying things to deliver in every morning six beeves (Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift)

  begot VERB created or caused Begot in thee (On His Mistress by John Donne)

  behoof NOUN behoof means benefit “Yes, young man,” said he, releasing the handle of the article in question, retiring a step or two from my table, and speaking for the behoof of the landlord and waiter at the door (Great Expectations by Charles Dickens)

  berth NOUN a berth is a bed on a boat this is the berth for me (Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson)

  bevers NOUN a bever was a snack, or small portion of food, eaten between main meals that buys me thirty meals a day and ten bevers (Doctor Faustus 2.1 by Christopher Marlowe)

  bilge water NOUN the bilge is the widest part of a ship’s bottom, and the bilge water is the dirty water that collects there no gush of bilge-water had turned it to fetid puddle (Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë)

  bills NOUN bills is an old term meaning prescription. A prescription is the piece of paper on which your doctor writes an order for medicine and which you give to a chemist to get the medicine Are not thy bills hung up as monuments (Doctor Faustus 1.1 by Christopher Marlowe)

  black cap NOUN a judge wore a black cap when he was about to sentence a prisoner to death The judge assumed the black cap, and the prisoner still stood with the same air and gesture. (Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens)