had a laddie killed in Gallypoly, and he's no lookin' for peace this
side the grave. He's my best friend in Glasgow. He's an elder in the
Gaelic kirk in the Cowcaddens, and I'm what ye call a free-thinker,
but we're wonderful agreed on the fundamentals. Ye spoke your
bit verra well, I must admit. Gresson will hear tell of ye as a
promising recruit.'
'It's a rotten job,' I said.

'Ay, it's a rotten job. I often feel like vomiting over it mysel'.
But it's no for us to complain. There's waur jobs oot in France for
better men ... A word in your ear, Mr Brand. Could ye not look a
bit more sheepish? Ye stare folk ower straight in the een, like a
Hieland sergeant-major up at Maryhill Barracks.' And he winked
slowly and grotesquely with his left eye.

He marched to a cupboard and produced a black bottle and
glass. 'I'm blue-ribbon myself, but ye'll be the better of something
to tak the taste out of your mouth. There's Loch Katrine water at
the pipe there ... As I was saying, there's not much ill in that lot.
Tombs is a black offence, but a dominie's a dominie all the world
over. They may crack about their Industrial Workers and the braw
things they're going to do, but there's a wholesome dampness
about the tinder on Clydeside. They should try Ireland.'

Supposing,' I said, 'there was a really clever man who wanted to
help the enemy. You think he could do little good by stirring up
trouble in the shops here?'

'I'm positive.'