view of my case. But as I reviewed the situation I could find no arguments to

bring against my decision of the previous night, so with a wry mouth I resolved

to go on with my plan. I was not feeling in any particular funk; only

disinclined to go looking for trouble, if you understand me.

 

I hunted out a well-used tweed suit, a pair of strong nailed boots, and a

flannel shirt with a collar. Into my pockets I stuffed a spare shirt, a cloth

cap, some handkerchiefs, and a tooth-brush. I had drawn a good sum in gold from

the bank two days before, in case Scudder should want money, and I took fifty

pounds of it in sovereigns in a belt which I had brought back from Rhodesia.

That was about all I wanted. Then I had a bath, and cut my moustache, which was

long and drooping, into a short stubbly fringe.

 

Now came the next step. Paddock used to arrive punctually at 7.30 and let

himself in with a latch-key. But about twenty minutes to seven, as I knew from

bitter experience, the milkman turned up with a great clatter of cans, and

deposited my share outside my door. I had seen that milkman sometimes when I had

gone out for an early ride. He was a young man about my own height, with an

ill-nourished moustache, and he wore a white overall. On him I staked all my

chances.

 

I went into the darkened smoking-room where the rays of morning light were

beginning to creep through the shutters. There I breakfasted off a

whisky-and-soda and some biscuits from the cupboard. By this time it was getting

on for six o’clock. I put a pipe in my pocket and filled my pouch from the