p, and it did not escape my notice that the hand which held the map
was short of the two middle fingers. But of the rest of him, except that
he was a tallish, well-made man, dressed in--as far as I could see
things--a gentlemanlike fashion in grey tweeds, I could see nothing. I
never caught one glimpse of his face, for all the time that he stood
there it was in shadow.

He did not stay there long either. The light of the electric torch was
suddenly switched off; I heard the crackling of the map again as he
folded it up and pocketed it. And just as suddenly he was once more on
the move, taking the by-way up to the north, which, as I knew well, led
to Norham, and--if he was going far--over the Tweed to Ladykirk. He went
away at the same quick pace; but the surface in that by-way was not as
hard and ringing as that of the main road, and before long the sound of
his steps died away into silence, and the hot, oppressive night became as
still as ever.

I presently mounted my bicycle again and rode forward on my last stage,
and having crossed Twizel Bridge, turned down the lane to the old ruin
close by where Till runs into Tweed. It was now as dark as ever it would
be that night, and the thunderclouds which hung all over the valley
deepened the gloom. Gloomy and dark the spot indeed was where I was to
meet the man of whom Mr. Gilverthwaite had spoken. By the light of my
bicycle lamp I saw that it was just turned eleven when I reached the
spot; but so far as I could judge there was no man there to meet
anybody. And remembering what I had been bidden to do, I spoke out loud.

"From James Gilverthwaite, who is sick, and can't come himself," I
repeated. And then, getting no immediate response, I spoke the password
in just as loud a voice. But there was no response to that either, and
for the instant I thought how ridiculous it was to stand there and say
Panama to nobody.

I made it out that the man had not yet come, and I was wheeling my
bicycle to the side of the lane, there to place it against the hedge and
to sit down myself, when the glancing light of the lamp fell on a great
red stain that had spread itself, and was still spreading, over the sandy
ground in front of me. And I knew on the instant that this was the stain
of blood, and I do not think I was surprised when, advancing a step or
two further, I saw, lying in the roadside grass at my feet, the still
figure and white face of a man who, I knew with a sure and certain