the Chief Constable and get ye through to London without a stop
like a load of fish from Aiberdeen, but that would be spoilin' the
fine character ye've been at such pains to construct. Na, na! Ye
maun take the risk and travel by Muirtown without ony creedentials.'

'It can't be a very big risk,' I interpolated.

'I'm no so sure. Gresson's left the _Tobermory. He went by here
yesterday, on the Mallaig boat, and there was a wee blackavised
man with him that got out at the Kyle. He's there still, stoppin' at
the hotel. They ca' him Linklater and he travels in whisky. I don't
like the looks of him.'

'But Gresson does not suspect me?'

'Maybe no. But ye wouldna like him to see ye hereaways. Yon
gentry don't leave muckle to chance. Be very certain that every
man in Gresson's lot kens all about ye, and has your description
down to the mole on your chin.'

'Then they've got it wrong,' I replied.
'I was speakin' feeguratively,' said Amos. 'I was considerin' your
case the feck of yesterday, and I've brought the best I could do for
ye in the gig. I wish ye were more respectable clad, but a good
topcoat will hide defeecencies.'

From behind the gig's seat he pulled out an ancient Gladstone
bag and revealed its contents. There was a bowler of a vulgar and
antiquated style; there was a ready-made overcoat of some dark
cloth, of the kind that a clerk wears on the road to the office; there