Page 101 - the-thirty-nine-steps

raised his whip to salute the fisherman. When he had gone,
he picked up his rod.
‘That’s my house,’ he said, pointing to a white gate a hun-
dred yards on. ‘Wait five minutes and then go round to the
back door.’ And with that he left me.
I did as I was bidden. I found a pretty cottage with a lawn
running down to the stream, and a perfect jungle of guelder-
rose and lilac flanking the path. The back door stood open,
and a grave butler was awaiting me.
‘Come this way, Sir,’ he said, and he led me along a pas-
sage and up a back staircase to a pleasant bedroom looking
towards the river. There I found a complete outfit laid out
for me dress clothes with all the fixings, a brown flannel
suit, shirts, collars, ties, shaving things and hair-brushes,
even a pair of patent shoes. ‘Sir Walter thought as how Mr
Reggie’s things would fit you, Sir,’ said the butler. ‘He keeps
some clothes ‘ere, for he comes regular on the week-ends.
There’s a bathroom next door, and I’ve prepared a ‘ot bath.
Dinner in ‘alf an hour, Sir. You’ll ‘ear the gong.’
The grave being withdrew, and I sat down in a chintz-
covered easy-chair and gaped. It was like a pantomime, to
come suddenly out of beggardom into this orderly comfort.
Obviously Sir Walter believed in me, though why he did I
could not guess. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a
wild, haggard brown fellow, with a fortnight’s ragged beard,
and dust in ears and eyes, collarless, vulgarly shirted, with
shapeless old tweed clothes and boots that had not been
cleaned for the better part of a month. I made a fine tramp
and a fair drover; and here I was ushered by a prim butler

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