Page 96 - the-thirty-nine-steps

mornin’?’ he asked.
I had lost all count of the days. So the Sabbath was the
reason for this strange decorum.
My head was swimming so wildly that I could not frame
a coherent answer. But he recognized me, and he saw that
I was ill.
‘Hae ye got my specs?’ he asked.
I fetched them out of my trouser pocket and gave him
them.
‘Ye’ll hae come for your jaicket and westcoat,’ he said.
‘Come inbye. Losh, man, ye’re terrible dune i’ the legs. Haud
up till I get ye to a chair.’
I perceived I was in for a bout of malaria. I had a good deal
of fever in my bones, and the wet night had brought it out,
while my shoulder and the effects of the fumes combined to
make me feel pretty bad. Before I knew, Mr Turnbull was
helping me off with my clothes, and putting me to bed in
one of the two cupboards that lined the kitchen walls.
He was a true friend in need, that old roadman. His wife
was dead years ago, and since his daughter’s marriage he
lived alone.
For the better part of ten days he did all the rough nurs-
ing I needed. I simply wanted to be left in peace while the
fever took its course, and when my skin was cool again I
found that the bout had more or less cured my shoulder. But
it was a baddish go, and though I was out of bed in five days,
it took me some time to get my legs again.
He went out each morning, leaving me milk for the day,
and locking the door behind him; and came in in the eve-

96 The Thirty-Nine Steps