In time he moved on to a faster and happier pibroch. Nell emerged from her 
cottage into the garden. The Constable was just a silhouette slashed into a 
hundred ribbons by the vertical shafts of the bamboo, but when she moved back 
and forth, some trick of her eye reassembled the image. He was standing in a 
pool of moonlight. He had changed clothes: now he was wearing his kilt, and a 
shirt and beret that seemed to belong to some sort of a uniform. When his lungs 
were empty, he would draw in a great breath, his chest would heave, and an 
array of silvery pins and insignia would glimmer in the moonlight.