before, but
had cut myself in the process, and what with my weather-beaten face and
tangled hair looked liker a tinker than a decent bagman. I thought with
longing of my portmanteau in the Pentland Hotel, Edinburgh, and the
neat blue serge suit and the clean linen that reposed in it. It was no
case for a subtle game, for I held no cards. Still I was determined not
to chuck in my hand till I was forced to. If the train stopped anywhere
I would get out, and trust to my own wits and the standing luck of the
British Army for the rest.

The chance came just after dawn, when we halted at a little junction. I
got up yawning and tried to open the door, till I remembered it was
locked. Thereupon I stuck my legs out of the window on the side away
from the platform, and was immediately seized upon by a sleepy Seaforth
who thought I contemplated suicide.

'Let me go,' I said. 'I'll be back in a jiffy.'

'Let him gang, jock,' said another voice. 'Ye ken what a man's like
when he's been on the bash. The cauld air'll sober him.'

I was released, and after some gymnastics dropped on the metals and
made my way round the rear of the train. As I clambered on the platform
it began to move, and a face looked out of one of the back carriages.
It was Linklater and he recognized me. He tried to get out, but the
door was promptly slammed by an indignant porter. I heard him protest,
and he kept his head out till the train went round the curve. That
cooked my goose all right. He would wire to the police from the next
station.

Meantime in that clean, bare, chilly place there was only one
traveller. He was a slim young man, with a kit-bag and a gun-case. His
clothes were beautiful, a green Homburg hat, a smart green tweed
overcoat, and boots as brightly polished as a horse chestnut. I caught
his profile as he gave up his ticket and to my amazement I recognized
it.

The station-master looked askance at me as I presented myself,
dilapidated and dishevelled, to the official gaze. I tried to speak in
a tone of authority.

'Who is the man who has just gone out?'

'Whaur's your ticket?'

'I had no time to get one at Muirtown, and as you see I have left my
luggage behind me. Take it out of that pound and I'll come back for the
change. I want to know if that was Sir Archibald Roylance.'

He looked suspiciously at the note. 'I think that's the name. He's a
captain up at the Fleein' School. What was ye wantin' with him?'

I charged through t