I was free now but I felt rather sick. I could still smell the smoke of the dynamite and an hour later I had to rest.
It was about eleven o'clock when I reached the road safely. I wanted to go back to Mr. Turnbull's cottage. My coat was there, with Scudder's note-book in the pocket, and I had to have that book. My plan then was to find the railway and travel to the south. After that I would go straight to Artinswell to meet Sir Walter Bullivant.
It was a beautiful night. I knew that Turnbull's cottage was about eighteen miles away. It was too far for me to walk before morning. So I decided to hide during the day and travel only at night.
When the sun rose, I was near a river. I washed in the clean cold water because I was very dirty. My shirt and trousers were torn, and I was afraid to meet anyone in that condition. But a little beyond the river I came to a cottage. And I was so hungry that I had to stop there.
The man was away from the house, and at first his wife was suspicious of me. She picked up an axe and seemed quite ready to attack me.
'I've had a bad fall in the hills,' I said, 'and I'm feeling ill. Will you help me?'
She did not ask any questions but invited me into the house. She gave me a glass of milk and some bread and cheese. Then I sat by the fire in her kitchen and we talked. I offered her a sovereign for her trouble, but she refused it at first.
'If it isn't your money, I don't want it,' she said.
I grew quite angry. 'But it i's my money. Do you think that I have stolen it?'
She accepted it then and unlocked a cupboard in the wall. She took out and gave me a warm Scottish plaid and one of her husband's hats. When I left her cottage, I was like a real Scotsman!
I walked for two or three hours. Then the weather changed and it began to rain. But I kept warm and dry under the plaid. A little later I came to a large rock which hung over some low ground. The grass under the rock was quite dry. So I lay down and slept there all day.
When I woke up, it was almost dark. The weather was still wet and cold, and I was uncertain about the way. Twice I took the wrong path and probably walked twenty miles. But at six o'clock in the morning I reached Mr. Turnbull's cottage.
Mr. Turnbull opened the door himself, but he did not recognize me. 'Who are you?' he asked. 'Why do you come here on a Sunday morning? I'm just getting ready to go to church.'
I had forgotten the days of the week. Every day had seemed the same to me. I felt so ill that I could not answer him. But then he recognized me.
'Have you got my glasses?' he asked.
I took them out of my pocket and gave them to him.
'Of course you've come back for your coat,' he said. 'Come in, man. You look very ill. Wait. I'll get you a chair.'
When I was in Rhodesia, I had often had malaria. And it was still in my body. I knew the signs of it very well. Now the rain and the cold had brought it back again. But soon Mr. Turnbull was taking off my clothes and leading me to the bed.
I stayed with him for ten days, and he looked after me very well. The malaria lasted about six days. Then my body grew cool again and I got up.
He went out to work every morning and returned in the evening. I used to rest all day. He had a cow which gave us milk. And there was always some food in the house.
One evening I said, 'There's a small airfield about fifteen miles away. Have you ever seen it? A little plane lands there sometimes. Do you know who owns the place?'
'I don't know,' he said. 'I've seen the plane, of course, but I don't know anything about it.'
He brought me several newspapers while I was staying with him. And I read them with interest. But I saw nothing about the murder in London.
Turnbull did not ask me any questions, not even my name. I was surprised about this, and one day I said, 'Has anyone asked you about me?'
'There was a man in a motor-car,' he said. 'He stopped one day and asked me about the other roadman. That was you of course. He seemed such a strange fellow that I didn't tell him anything.'
When I left the cottage, I gave Turnbull five pounds. He did not want to take the money at all. His face grew red, and he was quite rude to me. But at last he took it and said, 'I don't want money. When I was ill, you helped me. Now you've been ill, and I've helped you. It isn't worth a lot of money.'
The weather was beautiful that morning, but I was beginning to feel nervous. It was the 12th of June, and I had to finish Scudder's business before the 15th.
I had dinner at a quiet inn in Moffat and then went to the railway station. It was seven o'clock in the evening.
'What time does the train go to London?' I asked.
'Ten minutes to twelve,' the railway man said.
It was a long time to wait, so I left the station. I found a quiet place near a hill-top and lay down there to sleep. I was so tired that I slept until twenty minutes to twelve. Then I ran down to the station where the train was waiting.
I decided not to go to London. I got out of the train at Crewe and waited there for two hours. The next train took me to Birmingham, and I reached Reading at six o'clock in the evening. Two hours later I was looking for Sir Walter Bullivant's cottage at Artinswell.