Тридцять дев’ять ступенів

           Themilkmanhadbeenreleased,Iread,andthetruecriminal,aboutwhoseidentitythepolicewerereticent,wasbelievedtohavegotawayfromLondonbyoneofthenorthernlines.Therewasashortnoteaboutmeastheowneroftheflat.Iguessedthepolicehadstuckthatin,asaclumsycontrivancetopersuademethatIwasunsuspected.

           Therewasnothingelseinthepaper,nothingaboutforeignpoliticsorKarolides,orthethingsthathadinterestedScudder.Ilaiditdown,andfoundthatwewereapproachingthestationatwhichIhadgotoutyesterday.Thepotato-diggingstation-masterhadbeengingeredupintosomeactivity,forthewest-goingtrainwaswaitingtoletuspass,andfromithaddescendedthreemenwhowereaskinghimquestions.Isupposedthattheywerethelocalpolice,whohadbeenstirredupbyScotlandYard,andhadtracedmeasfarasthisone-horsesiding.SittingwellbackintheshadowIwatchedthemcarefully.Oneofthemhadabook,andtookdownnotes.Theoldpotato-diggerseemedtohaveturnedpeevish,butthechildwhohadcollectedmyticketwastalkingvolubly.Allthepartylookedoutacrossthemoorwherethewhiteroaddeparted.Ihopedtheyweregoingtotakeupmytracksthere.

           Aswemovedawayfromthatstationmycompanionwokeup.Hefixedmewithawanderingglance,kickedhisdogviciously,andinquiredwherehewas.Clearlyhewasverydrunk.

           “That’swhatcomeso’bein’ateetotaller,”heobservedinbitterregret.

           IexpressedmysurprisethatinhimIshouldhavemetablue-ribbonstalwart.