Chapter 7

           Isatdownonahill-topandtookstockofmyposition.Iwasn’tfeelingveryhappy,formynaturalthankfulnessatmyescapewascloudedbymyseverebodilydiscomfort.Thoselentonitefumeshadfairlypoisonedme,andthebakinghoursonthedovecothadn’thelpedmatters.Ihadacrushingheadache,andfeltassickasacat.Alsomyshoulderwasinabadway.AtfirstIthoughtitwasonlyabruise,butitseemedtobeswelling,andIhadnouseofmyleftarm.

           MyplanwastoseekMrTurnbull’scottage,recovermygarments,andespeciallyScudder’snote-book,andthenmakeforthemainlineandgetbacktothesouth.ItseemedtomethatthesoonerIgotintouchwiththeForeignOfficeman,SirWalterBullivant,thebetter.Ididn’tseehowIcouldgetmoreproofthanIhadgotalready.Hemustjusttakeorleavemystory,andanyway,withhimIwouldbeinbetterhandsthanthosedevilishGermans.IhadbeguntofeelquitekindlytowardstheBritishpolice.

           Itwasawonderfulstarrynight,andIhadnotmuchdifficultyabouttheroad.SirHarry’smaphadgivenmethelieoftheland,andallIhadtodowastosteerapointortwowestofsouth-westtocometothestreamwhereIhadmettheroadman.InallthesetravelsIneverknewthenamesoftheplaces,butIbelievethisstreamwasnolessthantheupperwatersoftheriverTweed.IcalculatedImustbeabouteighteenmilesdistant,andthatmeantIcouldnotgettherebeforemorning.SoImustlieupadaysomewhere,forIwastoooutrageousafiguretobeseeninthesunlight.