The River Kennet flowed beside the road. The English air was sweet and warm, quite different from Scottish air. I stood for a few minutes on a bridge which crossed the river. And I began to sing 'Annie Laurie' in a low voice.
A fisherman came up from the bank of the river. As he walked towards me, he began to sing 'Annie Laurie' also.
The fisherman was a great big fellow. He was wearing an old pair of grey trousers and a large hat. He looked at me and smiled. And I thought that he had a wise and honest face. Then he looked down with me at the water.
'It's clean and clear, isn't it?' he said. 'The Kennet's a fine river. Look at that big fish down there. But the sun has gone now. If you tried all night, you wouldn't catch him.'
'Where?' I said. 'I can't see him.'
'Look. Down there. A yard from those water plants.'
'Oh, yes. I can see him now. He's like a big black stone, isn't he?'
'Ah,' he said, and sang a few more words of 'Annie Laurie'.
He was still looking down at the water as he said, 'Your name is Twisdon, I believe.'
'No,' I said. Then I suddenly remembered my other names and added quickly, 'Oh, yes, that's right.'
He laughed. 'A good spy always knows his own name,' he said.
Some men were crossing the bridge behind us, and Sir Walter raised his voice.
'No, I won't,' he said. 'You're strong enough to work, aren't you? You can get a meal from my kitchen, but I won't give you a penny.'
The men went past, and the fisherman moved away from me. He pointed to a white gate a hundred yards away and said, 'That's my house. Wait here for five minutes and then go around to the back door.'
When I reached his cottage, the back door was open. Sir Walter's butler was waiting to welcome me.
'Come this way, sir,' he said, and he led me up the stairs. He took me into one of the bedrooms. There was a complete set of clothes on the bed. I noticed a dinner-suit and a clean white shirt. But there were other clothes too and several pairs of shoes.
'I hope that these things will fit you, sir,' the butler said. 'Your bath is ready in the next room. I'll ring the bell for dinner at nine o'clock, sir.'
When he had gone out, I sat down. I thought that I was dreaming. At this time the day before I had been asleep on a Scottish hill-top. Now I was in this wonderful house, and Sir Walter did not even know my name.
I had a bath and then put on the white shirt and the dinner-suit. Everything fitted me very well. The bell rang for dinner, and I went down to meet Sir Walter.
'You're very kind, sir,' I said, 'but I must tell you the truth. I haven't done anything wrong, but the police are looking for me at this moment.'
He smiled. 'That's all right. We can talk about these things after dinner. I'm glad that you got here safely.'
I enjoyed that meal, and the wine was good too. Sir Walter was an interesting man who had travelled in many foreign countries. I talked about Rhodesia and the fish in the Zambezi River, and he told me some of his adventures.
After dinner we went into his library, and the butler brought us coffee. It was a very nice room, with books and fine pictures around the walls. I decided to buy a house like that when I had finished Scudder's work.
Sir Walter lay back in his chair.
'I've obeyed Harry's orders,' he said. 'And now I'm ready to listen, Mr. Hannay. You've got some news, I believe.'
I was surprised to hear my real name, but I began my story. And I told him everything. I described my meeting with Scudder and his fears about Karolides. I told him about the murder and my adventure with the milkman.
'Where did you go then?' he asked.
'I went to Galloway. I soon discovered the secret of Scudder's code and then I could read his notes.'
'Have you still got them?'
'Yes.'
Then I described my meeting with Sir Harry and how I had helped him at Brattleburn.
Sir Walter laughed. 'Harry can't make a speech,' he said. 'He's a very good fellow but his ideas are all wrong. Go on with your story, Mr. Hannay.'
I told him about Turnbull then and my job as a roadman.
He was very interested in that.
'Can you describe those fellows in the car?' he asked.
'Well, one of them was thin and dark. I had seen him before at the inn with the fat one. But I didn't know the third man who was older than the others.'
'And what happened after that?'
'I met Marmaduke Jopley next, and had a bit of fun with him.' Sir Walter laughed again when I described that part of the story. But he did not laugh at the bald old man in the farmhouse.
'How did you escape from the place?' he asked.
'I found dynamite, fuses and detonators in a cupboard,' I replied, 'and I almost destroyed the building. There's a small airfield there where the plane lands. After that I was ill for a week with malaria. It would have been worse if I hadn't had the thick plaid. And Turnbull looked after me very well. Then I travelled south by train, and here I am.'
Sir Walter stood up slowly and looked down at me.
'You needn't be afraid of the police, Hannay,' he said. 'They aren't looking for you now,'
I was surprised to hear this.
'Why?' I cried. 'Have they found the murderer?'
'No, not yet. But the police know that you didn't kill Scudder.'
'How do they know that?'
'Because I received a letter from Scudder. He had done several jobs for me, and I knew him quite well. He was a good spy with only one fault.'
'What was that?'
'He always wanted to work alone, and he failed for that reason. The best spies always work with other spies, but Scudder couldn't do that. I was very sorry about it because he was a fine fellow and a very brave man. I had a letter from him on May 31st.'
'But he was dead then. He was murdered on May 23rd, wasn't he?'
'Yes, and he wrote the letter on the 23rd. He was always trying to deceive his enemies. So he sent the letter first to Spain, and then it came back to England.'
'What did he write about?'
'He told me that Britain was in great danger. He also said that he was staying with a good friend. And I believe that the "good friend" was you, Hannay. He promised to write again soon.'
'What did you do then?'
'I went to the police immediately. They had discovered your name and we sent a telegram to Rhodesia. The answer was all right, so we were not suspicious about you. I guessed why you had left London. You wanted to continue Scudder's work, didn't you? Then I got Harry's letter and I guessed that Twisdon was Richard Hannay.'
I was very glad to hear all this. My country's enemies were my enemies, but the police were now my friends. And I was a free man again!
The big fisherman sat down and smiled at me.
'Show me Scudder's notes,' he said.
I took out the little book and began to explain the code to him. He was very quick and he knew what the names meant. We worked hard for an hour or more.
'Scudder was right about one thing,' he said. 'A French officer is coming to London on June 15th, and that's the day after tomorrow. I thought that it was all secret. Of course we know that there are a few German spies in England. We've got some of our fellows in Germany too. But how did they all discover the secret of this Frenchman's visit? I don't believe Scudder's story about war and the Black Stone. He used to have some strange ideas.'
Sir Walter stood up again and walked about the room. 'The Black Stone,' he repeated. 'Der Schwarzestein. It's like something out of a cheap story, isn't it? I don't believe the part about Karolides either. He's an important man, I know, but nobody wants to kill him. There may be some danger which Scudder had heard about. But it isn't very important. It's the usual spy business which the Germans enjoy very much. Sometimes they kill a man, as they killed Scudder. And the German Government pays them for it.'
The butler came into the room.
'It's the telephone, sir,' he said. 'Your office in London. Mr. Heath wants to speak to you.'
Sir Walter left the library. When he returned a few minutes later, he looked quite pale.
'Scudder was right,' he said, 'and I was wrong. Karolides is dead. He was shot about three hours ago.'