Page 85 - the-thirty-nine-steps

a box of detonators, and a lot of cord for fuses. Then away at
the back of the shelf I found a stout brown cardboard box,
and inside it a wooden case. I managed to wrench it open,
and within lay half a dozen little grey bricks, each a couple
of inches square.
I took up one, and found that it crumbled easily in my
hand. Then I smelt it and put my tongue to it. After that I sat
down to think. I hadn’t been a mining engineer for nothing,
and I knew lentonite when I saw it.
With one of these bricks I could blow the house to smith-
ereens. I had used the stuff in Rhodesia and knew its power.
But the trouble was that my knowledge wasn’t exact. I had
forgotten the proper charge and the right way of preparing
it, and I wasn’t sure about the timing. I had only a vague no-
tion, too, as to its power, for though I had used it I had not
handled it with my own fingers.
But it was a chance, the only possible chance. It was a
mighty risk, but against it was an absolute black certainty. If
I used it the odds were, as I reckoned, about five to one in fa-
vour of my blowing myself into the tree-tops; but if I didn’t
I should very likely be occupying a six-foot hole in the gar-
den by the evening. That was the way I had to look at it. The
prospect was pretty dark either way, but anyhow there was a
chance, both for myself and for my country.
The remembrance of little Scudder decided me. It was
about the beastliest moment of my life, for I’m no good at
these cold-blooded resolutions. Still I managed to rake up
the pluck to set my teeth and choke back the horrid doubts
that flooded in on me. I simply shut off my mind and pre-

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