The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-06-03

relief but went on wheeling my stones. It was as well, for ten min utes later tha, car returned--one or tho occupants waving hand to me- These gentry left nothing to chance.
 finished Turnbulfs bread anc cheese, and pretty soon had finished the stones. The next step was wha' puzzled me.
 I could not keep up this road making business for long. A merc1ful ProV1 dence had kept MT. TurnbuI1 indoors but if he appeared on the scene there would be trouble. I had a notion thai the cordon was still tight round the glen and that if I walked in any al rection I should meet with questtoners
 But get out must. No mans nerve could stand more than a day of being spied on.
 I stayed at my post till about o'clock. By that time I had resolved to go down to Turnbull's cottage al nightfaH and take my chance of get ting over the hills in the darkness. But suddenly Q new car came up the road and slowed down to stop short ais tance from m.a. A fresh wind had r1s en, and the occupant wanted to light a cigarette.
 It was a touring car with the ton neau full of an assortment of baggage One man sat in it, and by an amazing chance I knew him. His name was Launcelot Brown, and he was an of, fenSe to creation. He was sort of blood stockbroker who did his business by toadying to eldest sons and rich young peers and foolish old ladies.
 "Lancie" was a familiar figure, understood, at balls and polo weeks and country houses. He was an adroit scandalmonger and would crawl a mile on his belly to anything that had a title or a million. I had a business introduction to his firm when I came to London, and he was good enough tc ask me to dinner at his club.
 There he showed off at a great rate and battered about his duchesses till the snobbery of tho creature turned me sick. I asked a man afterward why nobody kicked him and was told that EnglIshmen reverenced the weaker sex.
 Anyhow, there he was now, nattily dressed, in a fine new car, obviously on his way to visit some of his fine friends. A sudden daftness took me. and in second I had jumped into the tonneau and had him by the shoulder.
 Hello, Brown!' I sang out "Wen met, my lad?'
 He got a horrid fright. His chin dropped as he stared at me. "Who the devil are you?' he gasped.
 "NIy names .Hannay,'' I said. ''from Rhodesia, you remember
 Good God = the murderer!" he choked.
 "Just so. And there'n be second murder, my dear, if you don't do as bid you. Give me that coat of yours. That cap too.''
 He did as he was bid, for he was blind with terror. Over my dirty trousers and vulgar shirt I put on his smart driving coat, which buttoned high at the top and thereby hid the deficiencies of my collar.
 I stuck the cap on my head and add ed his gloves to my getup. The dusty roadman in a minute was transformed into one of the neatest motorists in Scotland. On MT. Launcelot Browns head 'clapped Turnbulfs unspeakable hat and told him to keep it there.
 Then with some difficulty I turned the car. My plan was to go back the road he had come, for the watchers. having seen it before, would let it pass unremarked.
 N'Now, my child,'' said, ''sit quite still and be a good boy. I mean you no harm. I'm only borrowing your car for an hour or two. But if you play me any tricks, and, above all, if you open your mouth, as sure as there's a God above me I'll wiring your neck! Savez?"
 I enjoyed that evenings ride. We ran eight miles down the valley, through a village or two, and I could not help noticing several str9nge look ing folk lounging by the roadside.
 These were the watchers who would have had much to say to me if had come in other garb or company. As it was, they looked incuriously on. One touche his cap in salute, and I re- sponded graciously.
 As the dark fell turned up a side glen which, as remembered from the map, led into an unfreQuented corner of the hills. Soon the villages were left behind, then the farms and then even the wayside cottages. Presently we came to a lonely moor, where the night was blackening the sunset gleam in the bog pools. Here we stopped, and obngingly reversed the car and restored to MT. Launoelot Brown his belongings
 "A thousand thanks said. There's more use in you than I thought Now. be off and find the police.'
 As sat on the hillside watching the tail light dwindle reflected on the va rious kinds of crime I had now sam pied. Contrary to general belief, was not a murderer. but had become an unholy liar, a shameless impostor and a highwayman with a marked taste for expensive motorcars.