. I'll be
back or mid-day.'

I borrowed his spectacles and filthy old hat; stripped off coat,
waistcoat, and collar, and gave him them to carry home; borrowed, too,
the foul stump of a clay pipe as an extra property. He indicated my
simple tasks, and without more ado set off at an amble bedwards. Bed
may have been his chief object, but I think there was also something
left in the foot of a bottle. I prayed that he might be safe under
cover before my friends arrived on the scene.

Then I set to work to dress for the part. I opened the collar of my
shirt--it was a vulgar blue-and-white check such as ploughmen wear--and
revealed a neck as brown as any tinker's. I rolled up my sleeves, and
there was a forearm which might have been a blacksmith's, sunburnt and
rough with old scars. I got my boots and trouser-legs all white from
the dust of the road, and hitched up my trousers, tying them with
string below the knee. Then I set to work on my face. With a handful
of dust I made a water-mark round my neck, the place where Mr
Turnbull's Sunday ablutions might be expected to stop. I rubbed a good
deal of dirt also into the sunburn of my cheeks. A roadman's eyes
would no doubt be a little inflamed, so I contrived to get some dust in
both of mine, and by dint of vigorous rubbing produced a bleary effect.

The sandwiches Sir Harry had given me had gone off with my coat, but
the roadman's lunch, tied up in a red handkerchief, was at my disposal.
I ate with great relish several of the thick slabs of scone and cheese
and drank a little of the cold tea. In the handkerchief was a local
paper tied with string and addressed to Mr Turnbull--obviously meant to
solace his mid-day leisure. I did up the bundle again, and put the
paper conspicuously beside it.

My boots did not satisfy me, but by dint of kicking among the stones I
reduced them to the granite-like surface which marks a roadman's
foot-gear. Then I bit and scraped my finger-nails till the edges were
all cracked and uneven. The men I was matched against would miss no
detail. I broke one of the bootlaces and retied it in a clumsy knot,
and loosed the other so that my thick grey socks bulged over the
uppers. Still no sign of anything on the road. The motor I had
observed half an hour ago must have gone home.

My toilet complete, I took up the barrow and began my journeys to and
from the quarry a hundred yards off.

I remember an old scout in Rhodesia, who had d