CHAPTER 1 - The Young Frankenstein

My name is Henri Clerval, and I was born in the city of Geneva in 1775. My closest
friend at school in Geneva was Victor Frankenstein.
The Frankensteins were a rich merchant family, and my friend's father had travelled
widely. On my first visit to their house in Geneva, I saw a rather pretty girl, perhaps a
year younger than us.
"That's my sister," Victor said. "Or rather, we’ve been brought up together and we
think of each other as brother and sister. She is, in fact, Italian."
The Frankensteins were Swiss.
Victor explained. "Soon after I was born, my parents were in Italy. On a very hot day
they asked for a drink at a farm. They saw five small children there. Four had dark hair
like the farmer and his wife; one had fair hair and looked quite different. That was
Elizabeth, the daughter of a landowner who had lost his life trying to free his country
from an unjust government. My mother was not strong; it was not certain that she
would have another child but she did want a daughter. She asked the poor farmer and
his wife if she could take Elizabeth and bring her up as her own. In the end, that was
arranged."
"It's like a story from a book," I said. "You are lucky to have a sister. I have no one to
talk to at home."
Frankenstein smiled. "Then she must become your sister, too."
Elizabeth did become a sister to me, and remained a sister all the time that we were
children. All three of us belonged to each other. 

Besides the fine house in Geneva, the Frankensteins had a country house on the south
side of the lake. They liked the quiet life there, and they lived there more and more
after the birth of another son. They called him William, and a happy country girl of our
age, called Justine, came to look after him. These were the people among whom I
spent more and more of my time.
From the beginning, Victor Frankenstein's interests lay in science. He studied nature
with a kind of hunger, seeing the world around him as so many secrets to be
discovered. There were secrets in the deep waters of the lake, in the mountains, in the
glaciers -the great rivers of ice that flowed down from the mountains- and in the
changes of weather and season. As a boy, he always wanted quick results from his
experiments, but Elizabeth and I enjoyed helping him with them.

I remember a day when we were out collecting wild plants for one of those
experiments. We had come down from the long, low mountain called the Salève, and
we were crossing a field near a line of fruit trees when a thunderstorm broke. We were
getting very wet in the open field, but we knew the danger of standing under trees in a
thunderstorm.
Suddenly there was a noise like a gun, and a flash of blue light, and we were thrown to
the ground, blinded and unable to hear. When at last we were able to see and hear
again, we saw nearby the remains of a tree, black and smoking. It had been struck by
lightning. The power of that lightning was something that we could never forget.
It was from that day, I think, that an idea began to form in Victor Frankenstein's mind. 
It was decided that Frankenstein should go, at the age of seventeen, to study science
at the University of Ingolstadt in Germany. His father thought highly of a professor of
science there, Dr Krempe. I, too, wanted to go to a university, but my father would not
agree to my going. He could only see laziness, drinking and wasting time in the student
life.
Before Frankenstein left for Ingolstadt, there was a very sad happening for all of us.
His mother had never been very strong. She fell ill, and it soon became clear that she
was not going to live. She called Victor and Elizabeth to her bedside. Joining their
hands together, she said:
"Victor, my dear, I hoped to see you and Elizabeth married. Promise me that your
father will live to see it."
She died soon after.
I did not see Frankenstein for two years after he went to Ingolstadt. Nor did his family.
We received letters from him at first, but these became fewer and shorter and told us
less.  
CHAPTER 2 - What Frankenstein had made

About September of the following year, his letters stopped completely. He did not come
home to Geneva for holidays, and I could see that his father and Elizabeth were
troubled. In his last letter he said that he had learned as much as Ingolstadt could
teach him. If this was true, then what was it still kept him there?
Even a letter to Krempe brought a reply that added little to what they knew.
Frankenstein had indeed left the university -against Krempe's wishes- and was now
following some studies of his own (though what these studies were, Krempe did not
say).
Eight months passed without any news, and then old Frankenstein decided to act.
"Somebody must go to Ingolstadt. It cannot be me. My travelling days are over, and
Elizabeth cannot give up her duties in the house. We shall have to arrange something,"
he said, giving me a look full of meaning.
Soon after this, old Frankenstein appeared at my house and asked to see my father. My
father, as I have said, was a hard man, but old Frankenstein was good at making
people change their ideas. The fact that he was rich and an important man also helped
my father to allow the following arrangement to take place. In return for help with the
cost of my studies I would go to Ingolstadt, where I would enter the university and find
out what Victor was doing. Having found out, I was to look after him if necessary, and
to make him write home.
So it happened that because my friend stopped writing letters I was able to escape from
my father's shop and do what I wanted to do above all things, to go to university.
The very next day I took the public carriage from Geneva to Lausanne and from there
to Berne. It was a four day journey across Switzerland to Lake Constance, then into
south Germany by Ulm to Ingolstadt.
It was late afternoon when the carriage crossed the River Danube and entered the walls
of that pleasant old town, then washed in the golden light of late summer. That, at
least, is how it must have appeared to me that first time. But when I think of what
happened later -when I think of what first saw the light in that little town- I cannot
remember Ingolstadt without feelings of pain and horror.

I left my bags at the inn where the carriage stopped and asked my way to the street
where my friend was staying.
Number sixteen was one of those fine old houses, built a very long time ago, that one
still finds in those south German towns. I climbed up four lots of stairs until the only
other stairs were those that led up to the roof. There was just one door with a card
pinned to it. It was dark there, but I could read the name: Victor Frankenstein.I moved
my hand down the side of the door until I found the bell, and pulled. A long way inside I
heard it ring. As I stood there listening to the sound of footsteps coming nearer and
nearer I wondered what changes two years had made in my friend. Two years is a long
time in the life of a young man.
The footsteps reached the door, and I heard the sound of several locks being turned, it
seemed as if he kept his door very carefully closed. At last it opened, and there he
stood - Frankenstein! Yes, it was him, but not the Frankenstein I remembered. Deathly
pale, with wild eyes and an uncared-for beard, he was not the young man who had lived
the healthy, out-of-door life with me in the mountains of our own country. This thin
body on which the clothes hung as if they had been made for someone bigger could not
have walked five kilometres. I wondered if he ever left his room.
However, I found no cause for displeasure in the way he received me. After a moment
of surprise he came forward and took my hand. A look of joy appeared on his face.
"Henri," he cried, "you come just at the right time."
He drew me inside, and then closed the door. This took some time since there were, as
I had thought, several large locks. Visitors were clearly neither expected nor wished for.
Frankenstein led the way down a long, dark passage to a book-filled room. A bed stood
on one side, looking as if nothing had been done to it for days; and on a table near the
window were the remains of several meals. There was dust everywhere, and the last of
the evening sun shone with difficulty through the dirty windows. There was a rather
unpleasant smell.
After I had given him news about his family and told him the reasons for my coming to
Ingolstadt, Frankenstein got up and walked about the room excitedly. He did not seem
to be thinking at all about what I had just told him.
 "Henri," he said at last. "You have come just at the very moment when I need your
help. The great work which I have been doing for the last year is coming to an end, and
I shall soon know whether I have been wasting my time or whether I have pushed
scientific discovery to new heights." His eyes burned with a strange light. They were like
the eyes of a madman.
"My preparations are nearly complete. All I need now are the right conditions for the
great experiment to take place.
"Come," he said, and led the way to a door in a corner of his living room. "You will see
what no other man has seen."
He threw open the door, and at once the strange smell which I had noticed before
became stronger. It was like the smell of bad meat. I could hardly bear it, but my friend
seemed not to notice it, and led the way in.
The room was dark, and at first I could only see a mass of wires, glass bottles and jars,
and copper and glass pipes. Here and there the blue light of burners made holes in the
darkness. And from those places the sound of boiling liquids could be heard.
As my eyes began to see better in the half-darkness I saw that this stuff was arranged
round some kind of bath in the middle of the room with a wooden work-table that went
all the way round it. Frankenstein was watching me. There was still this strange
excitement in his eyes.
"Go on," he said, "look inside. See what I have made."
I bent over the table and looked into the bath. It was filled with a clear liquid. I tried to
see deeper into this liquid, but at first all I could see was what looked like hair, fine
hair. I bent lower, and as Frankenstein moved a lamp nearer I drew in my breath
sharply. It was hair, spread out in a golden ring around a face, a head. More. Yes, there
was a body in the bath... the body of a man!  
CHAPTER 3 - Creating life

Back in the living room I sat down at the table with the wildest thoughts racing through
my mind. As Frankenstein sat down opposite me he looked in the lamplight even
thinner and paler than before. His eyes still shone in an unnatural way, and his hands
would not keep still. Was he mad? Was the man in the bath someone he had killed? For
the first time in my life, I think, I feared him.
Then he began to speak, in sudden flows of words which stopped, and then started
again. I began to understand two things: first, that he had hardly spoken to anyone for
months; and secondly, that there was only one subject which he was able to think
about. He spoke at first of his studies at the university, of his early experiments, and
how little by little he found himself spending more time in his own rooms than listening
to his teachers. But it was clear that he could hardly wait to pass on to the one subject
that filled his mind.
"... and so, the science of living bodies became my chief study, the science of life, and
the science of death. It seemed wrong to me that we knew so much about all those
activities of the human body that make up life; and yet we did not know how those
activities can be set in movement. To me a human body is like a clock. Sometimes a
clock stops; the spring has not run down, and all the little wheels are there. But it
stops. What do we do? We pick it up and shake it, and nearly always it starts again. So
I asked myself two questions: first, how does one make a human body, and secondly,
how does one 'shake' it into life?"
"You mean, create life?" I said.
"Yes, create life." Frankenstein looked at me with a kind of smile. "That is an idea which
does not please you, I see."
"No, it does not please me," I replied. "It is not for man to create life. There are things
which man should not try to know or do. Man has his proper place in nature, and it is
better that he should not try to move out of it," I said.
"My dear Henri," Frankenstein replied, "if man had always believed that, there would
today be no science, no learning. Have you never thought of the great difference
between what man could be and what he is? Have you never looked at man in the
streets and then looked at man in the paintings of the great artists? If you had the
power to create, would you not want to create the perfect man?"
"If?" I cried, thinking of the body in the bath. "You know quite well that you have
already created a body. Do you think you have the power to give it life?"
Frankenstein did not answer. He got up and walked to the window and opened it. It had
been a hot day, and there was no air in the room. In the distance could be heard the
sound of thunder.
"This is our season of storms," he said, and looked out of the window for some minutes.
Then he turned and went on speaking: "The man of science has no more power than
any other man. Any power more than his own must be taken from nature. In the next
few days you will see what nature and I can do." He looked hard at me. "You could even
help me."
Help him? Was he asking me to help him create life? Although I felt horror at his
suggestion I also knew that my friend was offering me part of the honour which success
could bring. But would the experiment succeed? And more important: did I really want
it to succeed? As I watched Frankenstein's shaking hand and the sudden, strange
movements of his face, I wondered again if he was just a little mad. I felt a wish to
leave Ingolstadt at once, until I remembered that I had been sent there by his father to
look after him. It was my duty to stay.

In the days that followed, the more I thought about the experiment the more it seemed
a kind of madness. Could I really join Frankenstein in an act that was against nature,
God and man?
I could, and did. My reasons for doing so were quite simple. This mad plan of his could
not possibly succeed. And when it failed, as it certainly would fail, it would be my duty
to look after my friend, and help him in his sorrow. I moved into Frankenstein's rooms,
and the first thing I did was to create order and cleanliness, and to make sure that he
ate meals at the proper times. Next, I did my best to understand the nature of his
discoveries. This was hard, since I was not, like him, a man of science; and if I had
been, it might still have been difficult. Even I could see that he had gone far beyond
what was known to science at that time. He tried to tell me, but I never did understand,
and I ended up simply doing what he told me to do.
It was not, in fact, understanding that I needed most in my work for Frankenstein, but
strength of mind. I had to work in a room filled with jars containing every part of the
human body: arms, legs, hearts, everything. This was quite disgusting to me, but
Frankenstein seemed quite untroubled by it, and picked up these human parts as coolly
as a woman in the kitchen picks up a piece of meat.
"In order to get what I need for my work," he said, "I have had to go to hospital, the
prison, and even the place dead bodies are put into the ground. To create life I have
had to live side by side with death."
But it was not the eye-balls which stared at me from inside the jar as I entered the
room; or the brain lying in its clear liquid like some strange sea-creature; or the,
carefully cut off hands waiting for something to get hold of that really troubled me. It
was the centre of it all, the long, white bath where "he" lay.
I often used to think as we worked that "he" was asleep, and that we and our doings
were part of his dream. Or was it that I was asleep, and that he and Frankenstein and
that room were part of mine? At first it was all so strange. But as the days passed I
began to lose my fear of him. After all, this was to be the perfect man, and
Frankenstein had chosen his parts well. Certainly he had strength and beauty. More
than two metres tall, and with that long, golden hair, he appeared more than human. Of
the brain that slept behind those closed eyes I knew nothing, but Frankenstein was
quite sure that its powers would be no less than the strength of his body.
I had only one doubt.
"So," I said one day, while we were sitting eating in the living room, "strength, beauty
and cleverness will be his. But what about goodness? Does that perfection which you
plan for him go so far?".
"It is all prepared," said Frankenstein in reply. 'I have plans to take him to live in a
place far from the spoiling example of man, where training will bring out his natural
goodness. Man is always born good. Evil can only come from man's bad treatment of
man. Treat him justly and he will be good."
I could not answer this. It was what I, too, believed, and for the first time my mind
began to enter the world of Frankenstein's hopes and dreams. Suppose, after all, that
the dream came true. The body was complete. Could the life-force be made to enter
into it?
As if he knew my unspoken thoughts, Frankenstein then spoke: "I am now ready. I am
only waiting for the right conditions." He went across to the window and opened it.
Again I heard the sound of thunder.
"We shall not have long to wait," he said.
CHAPTER 4 - We seem to fail

The next day was hot and the air was heavy. A storm was on the way. Dark clouds
gathered in the sky, and by late afternoon it had started to rain in big drops.
All that day Frankenstein had been excited. He seemed to want the storm to come. It
was as if he had a place for it in his plans; and as the rain fell faster and faster and the
thunder grew louder and louder, he became more and more excited, walking restlessly
up and down in front of the open window.
About seven o'clock he suddenly seemed to decide about something. He shut the
window and marched into the work-room. I had by this time caught his excitement
myself. It was clear that the experiment was about to begin. But when he reappeared a
few minutes later my surprise was so great that I started to laugh. He was carrying a
child's kite.
"Are we going to play games, then, Victor?" I asked at last.
But my friend remained quite serious and said nothing. Instead of the excitement of a
few minutes ago his face now wore the fixed look of someone who knew exactly what
he had to do.
I followed him along the passage to the front door, and up the stairs that led to the roof
- or rather, to a flat but narrow part of it that lay between two high, pointed parts. On
the right I could see a lighted window set in the roof just below its highest point. That
must be the window of Frankenstein's work-room.
It was dark and wet, and the wind was very strong. I held the kite while Frankenstein
climbed up to the window, which, I noticed, was a little open. I saw him pass his hand
through the opening, and in less than a minute he was standing by my side again with
the end of a piece of wire in his hand. I then noticed that there was also a roll of thin
wire tied to the kite. He joined the kite wire to the wire which came through the
window, and then took the kite from me.
I was glad of this, because the wind was pulling at it all the time, and I was afraid that
it would carry me off the roof and into the street, five floors below.
But Frankenstein was too deeply interested in what he was doing to feel fear. Holding
the end of the kite in his teeth he climbed up to the window again, and from there to
the top of the roof. He sat there with one leg on each side of the roof.
"Up you come, then, Henri," he called. "I need you."
I followed him up, and he put the kite back into my hands.
"Move along to the other end of the roof and sit facing the wind. I will hold the wire," he
said.
When we were boys we had loved flying kites; and as I sat there in the wind and the
rain an unexpected feeling of pleasure ran through me. I lost all my fear of falling. I
could see in the lightning flashes that Frankenstein was smiling. He felt the same as I
did. It was a game now, and playing it made him feel as if he was a child again. I think
it was the last time I ever saw him as happy as he was then.
I held the kite up and let the wind take it. Little by little Frankenstein pulled it up into
the stormy night. Higher and higher it went, and still the wire ran out through the work-
room window. When he thought it had gone far enough, he tied the wire to something
just inside the window. Then we climbed down from the roof and returned to the house.
Frankenstein had never forgotten the power of lightning. The picture of that blackened
tree below the Salève had stuck in both our minds from the time that we were boys.
But while I remembered the lightning as a destroyer, Frankenstein had seen further. For
him it was a power for creation. Now he was going to try out that power.
At any moment the kite would sail into the very heart of the thundercloud, and a huge
electric force would flow down the wire into the work-room. To give life? I still could not
believe it.
As we sat silent in the living room listening to the thunder coming nearer and nearer I
thought of the perfect man lying in his bath in the next room. Sleeping? Dead? Unborn?
I did not know how to think of him. But I saw the lightning flashes and I forgot him
then. I was too afraid of the lightning. Did Frankenstein know what he was doing in
drawing down lightning on the house in this way? He could not know the force with
which the lightning would strike. He had an arrangement for leading the electricity to
earth, but would it work? It was like sitting next to a bomb of uncertain size, waiting for
it to explode.
When it came, of course, I was unprepared. There was a huge noise, a flash, and
everything went dark.
It seemed like an age, but it can only have been a minute later when I woke up. I could
not hear because of the explosion; nor could I see. I thought at first I had been blinded
by the flash, but I soon understood that our lamps had been blown out. I could also
smell burning. Frankenstein's earth arrangement had not worked too well, and a great
part of the force of the lightning had hit the work--room.
Frankenstein was already on his feet and making his way to the room. The door had
been blown open by the explosion and was only just hanging from the door post. Inside
was darkness and an even stronger smell of burning. As we entered we felt broken
glass under our feet, and other things that were unpleasantly soft.
The surprise of the lightning had made me forget everything, and it was only when my
hands touched the table in the centre of the room that I remembered the experiment.
But Frankenstein had not forgotten. He was already bending over the bath, feeling
inside with his hands. A distant flash of lightning lit up the room just long enough for
me to see a blackened table, a broken bath and the body lying face downwards in a few
centimetres of liquid. It was quite still.
"The experiment has failed," said Frankenstein, and led the way out of the room.
It was the end of all his hopes, and I felt deeply sorry for him. Yet, though I could not
say so then, it seemed that things had happened in the best possible way. I had never
really wanted it to succeed.
By then, very tired, we threw ourselves down on our beds without even taking the
trouble to undress. Before the storm had passed we were deeply asleep.
CHAPTER 5 - The Monster

Even though we were tired, too much had happened that night for us to sleep with easy
minds. I had dreams... dreams of strange things coming to life on the work-room
floor.  I dreamed of Elizabeth walking through the streets of Ingolstadt. Pleased and
surprised to see her there I walked up to her and kissed her. But as I took my lips away
I saw her lips turn from red to the blue-green colour of death. It started to spread
across her face, and I forced myself to wake up.
This must have been about half-past four, because I remember the church clock striking
the half-hour soon afterwards. I sat up in bed and drew the back of my hand across my
face, which was wet with fear and horror.
I looked round. The curtains were closed, and everything was very dark. There was no
more thunder, and the storm had passed. My eyes fell upon the open doorway leading
to the work-room. It was dark like everywhere else, but less dark, since a little light
came in through the window in the roof. As I sat up in bed thinking of the clearing-up
we should have to do when daylight came, a shadow moved into the lighter darkness of
the doorway. The shadow became a shape. It filled the doorway and then left it empty
again. It had passed into the room where I was. My blood ran cold. Something was
standing very close to my bed.
Then I heard a sound from the other bed. Frankenstein was also awake. He suddenly
pulled the curtains open, and the unkind, grey light of early morning flowed into the
room to show - what can I say? I could see at once that it was the body in the bath,
now alive and breathing. But where was the perfection? Where was the man-god of
Frankenstein's dreams? Was this the end of the great experiment?
There he stood, unclothed, wet and shining, his long hair hanging down over his chest.
If he had stood up straight he would have been a giant -as it was, he was nearly two
metres tall- but his back was bent, and his arms hung in front of him like those of a
huge monkey. As for his face, the beauty of the body in the bath had gone with the
lightning. lnstead of the rosy white of skin before life, the living skin was yellow and dry
like old paper, and was stretched across the bones like a piece of clothing that was too
small. This left the teeth uncovered, so that he wore an unnatural smile all the time.
Lightning burns and lines where the pieces of skin had been joined together marked the
rest of his body; and the whites of his narrow eyes were the colour of blood. He was a
monster!
No one spoke. The only sound was that of the liquid droppinq off the ends of the
Monster's hair on to the floor. Frankenstein was filled with horror. He stared at the
Monster and the Monster stared back at him. As for me, after the first surprise I felt
nothing but plain, simple fear. But as the minutes passed I began to understand that
there was no reason for fear. This was not a wild animal. If he had meant to attack us
he would already have done so by now. He was no more certain what to do than we
were. As he stared in that fixed way at Frankenstein, it almost seemed as if he knew
that he was looking at his maker. He even began to look friendly. Did he want to thank
the man who had given him life?
Almost as this thought passed through my mind he took a step forward, went down on
his knees and stretched out a hand. I think he was going to kiss Frankenstein's foot.
But whatever he meant to do, he did not have a chance to do it, because, with a cry of
horror, Frankenstein kicked out, and the Monster fell back. He got up very quickly,
which showed that although he looked heavy he was strong and active. Now it was his
turn to look surprised, and Frankenstein, seeing that the Monster was not as dangerous
as he had thought, took his chance. He picked up a heavy stick and stepped  forward.
"Out!" he cried. "Out of my rooms! Out of my sight! You are disgusting!"
Still with a look of hurt surprise on his face, and without saying a word, the Monster
turned, and Frankenstein ran after him down the passage, where the front door, pulled
in by the force of the explosion, lay wide open. He ran out and disappeared down the
stairs.
I went straight to the window and looked out. After a minute the Monster came into the
street. He seemed uncertain what to do, but in the end he ran off through the still
empty town towards the main gate.
'He is disgusting," said Frankenstein. "I cannot bear to think of him."
"But he is yours. You made him," I said.
"He was a mistake."
"Perhaps, but he was your mistake. He is yours, and he knows it. Did you not see how
he treated you as his master? And what did you do? You drove him away. That was
neither good nor wise.'
Frankenstein grew pale at my words. His whole body shook. "He is not mine. He was a
mistake, I tell you - an experiment that went wrong. He is not even human. I owe him
nothing!"
"But, my dear fellow, what is going to happen?" I asked. "You cannot just let him run
off like that."
"Nature has made a mistake, and, as Nature always does, she will put her mistake right
in her own way. This creature cannot live. You could see it was incomplete. It will die a
natural death and there will be no more difficulties."
This did not seem a right and proper answer. I tried again: "But do you not feel you
have some duty...?"
"Duty!" cried Frankenstein in an excited voice. "Do not speak to me of duty. I have
spent too long in this town wasting my life in useless study. I shall return to Geneva. I
shall go back home. Yes, I shall leave today!"

Frankenstein took the carriage to the south that evening. I waited in his rooms,
expecting trouble. One does not lose an unclothed monster in a small town like
Ingolstadt. When nothing happened, I went to the market to make enquiries.
The Monster had run straight out of the town gates. Only the gatekeeper had seen him,
and nobody believed him. "He has been drinking again," they said.
"What luck!" I thought. "Frankenstein was right. The Monster will go into the forest and
die."

I began to work very hard on my own studies. I heard nothing from Frankenstein, and
there was no news of the Monster.
But in September I was buying food in the market when I heard an old wood-cutter
talking about a "wild man" in a certain part of the forest. The next day I walked to that
part of the forest.
All that day I talked to people who lived in the forest. It was clear that there was indeed
a wild man in the woods, even though nobody had been very near to him. He had done
no harm. He had attacked nobody. When anyone saw him, he ran away... and he could
run very fast.
I knew that I had to find the Monster. I felt that those who made him owed him
something; it was somebody's duty to make friends with him so that he would not turn
against the human race.
I spent several Sundays looking for him. At last, from behind a bush, I saw him. He was
even more frightful than I remembered, but he had changed. He had found some
clothing, and he was carrying a basket full of wild fruit. I decided to follow him. He
came to a little wooden house in an open space in the forest, pushed open the door,
and went in, still carrying his basket.
About ten minutes later, he came out, but not alone. An old man and a very pretty girl
came to the door with him. I saw him talking to them - proof that the Monster could
talk.
He went off into the forest again, and after a time I went to the little house. The people
in it were French: old de Lacy, who was blind, and his son Felix and daughter Agatha.
They had had to leave France because of unjust laws. They were good people who had
been kind to the Monster.
"He lives in a little hut behind the house," Agatha said. "He is very strange, and very
ugly, but there is goodness in him. He cuts wood for us and gathers wild fruits in the
forest."
"Other people in the forest call him 'the wild man'," Felix added, "but he is quite clever.
He has learnt French only by listening to us. He also listens when we read to Father,
and he now knows a great deal."
"I should like to meet him some time," I said. "Perhaps he is the former servant of my
friend Frankenstein. His master has gone back to Geneva, but he will want to help his
servant, and I will write to him."
I still hoped to get Victor to do his duty.

My work, and very bad weather, made it impossible for me to return to the forest for
three weeks. When I went back to the little house, nothing remained of it except a few
stones and a mass of blackened wood.
I found proof that the de Lacys had died in the fire, but I could not see whether the
Monster had died or not.
I went back to Ingolstadt and worked hard, trying to forget. Then in December I
received a letter with a cutting from a Geneva newspaper. William Frankenstein, Victor's
little brother, had been murdered, and Justine was to be tried for the murder. The story
was that Justine took William into some woods and put her hands round his neck until
he was dead, and then she ran off with the gold chain from his neck. They caught her at
Thonon.
That was just not possible. Justine loved little William, and she was a kind and loving
girl. I decided to return to Geneva at once to try to help either her or the Frankensteins.
CHAPTER 6 - Murder!

I arrived in Geneva a few days later at about nine o'clock in the morning. Knowing that
the gate would be shut before I could reach the city, I had spent the night before in the
nearby town of Nyon. I then took a boat along the north shore of the lake to Geneva.
The place where the ships tied up did not seem very active for the time of the day, but
this did not, by itself, surprise me. However, when I passed through the city gates I
could no longer fail to notice the emptiness of the streets. It was clear, bright weather
for the time of the year, and the hard-working people of the city should all have been at
their businesses. But everywhere I looked, shops and offices were closed. Only a little
thought was enough to tell me that I had made no mistake about the date. It was not a
Sunday or a public holiday.
Soon I noticed another thing. The few people who were in the streets were all going the
same way - towards the opposite side of the city, and they were in a hurry. They could
only be going to Plainpalais, a piece of flat, open land on the far side of the River Arve
where the men of the city, doing their soldier training, used to march up and down on
Sunday mornings. It was also -as I remembered with sudden fear- the place of public
hangings!
I started to run: across the old market-place, up the street where the city government
meets, until, breathless, I joined a large, silent crowd on the city walls. I could see
nothing, so I pulled myself up into the window of a house. Below the walls I could see
an even larger crowd. All Geneva was there - and more, since there were many people
from the small towns and villages around.
In the middle of the crowd was a raised wooden floor with a post in the middle and a
rope hanging from the post. Among the few people standing there was a girl in a black
dress. Even at that distance I knew it was Justine.
This crowd was not like any other crowd I had ever known. It was somehow strange
and frightening that, although so large, it made so little noise. The air was thick with
hate. They wanted that poor, frightened girl in black to die, and it was nearly time for
her to do so.
As the last prayer was said, and the rope was placed round her neck I jumped down
from my place in the window. My eyes filled with tears and I could watch no more. I
turned away from the crowd into the peace and quiet of the Rue des Granges. But I had
not gone far before I heard a deep cry of pleasure rise from the crowd, and I knew that
Justine was no more. I stopped and placed my hand on the wall of a nearby house.
Suddenly I felt quite ill.
As I stood there in the empty street trying to gather my thoughts, it came to my mind
that the house I was resting against was well known to me. It was the town house of
the Frankensteins. I walked on to the front door, which I found a little open. I pushed
my way in. There was no servant in the hall, so I called. All was quiet. Had everybody
gone to the hanging?
As a close friend of the family I felt free to walk upstairs; and finding the door of my
friend's room open, I went in.
At first I thought the room was empty like the rest of the house, but then I saw
somebody kneeling in a corner, his face pressed against the wall, and as still and silent
as if he were dead.
"Victor!" I called quietly. He made no reply. I began to think he really was dead. I got
hold of him and pulled him out of his corner. His face was wet with tears. "Victor, it's
me, Henri. I have come back from Ingolstadt to help you." He still made neither sound
nor movement.
"To help you," I said again.
"I am beyond help," he said at last.
"None of us are beyond help ... except (I could not help adding) ... poor Justine." As I
spoke her name Frankenstein let out an unhappy cry.
"I could not help her," he said. "I tried ... God knows how hard I tried, but they would
not listen. I told them again and again who had killed William, but I had no proof. In the
end they thought I was mad."
"Then it was not Justine who killed him?"
"How could you ever have thought it was? That sweet young girl ..." His voice broke.
"You knew her. That is enough."
"Then who did kill him?" I asked.
"Do you need to ask? Why, it was him."
"Him?"
"Yes, Yes, the one I made and gave life to, who has followed me here to destroy my
happiness."

The Monster had followed him here? Had he not died in the fire, then, together with the
de Lacys? I began to understand the full horror of what had happened. I had told the de
Lacys where Frankenstein lived so that they might tell the Monster. It was my turn now
to feel as Frankenstein felt. Was it really because of me that two people who never did
anybody any harm had died. To think that I had once felt sorry for this creature. Why,
why did I have to search for him in the forest? The thought that I was the cause of so
much unhappiness was almost too much to bear.
I had told Frankenstein in my letter about my first visit to the de Lacys. Now I told him
again about the fire and their frightful end. That, at least, owed nothing to me. Then I
told him how my words to the de Lacys had led the Monster to Geneva.
My friend listened in silence. But it was clear even before he began to speak that he did
not think I was the cause of these evils.
"He is devilishly clever," he said. "He would have found his way to us without your help
- be sure of that. I know you meant well; but he does not return good for the good
actions he receives. I have made something unchangeably evil, and I have not yet
learned the full cost of his making."
"Surely," I replied, "all creatures are born with the possibility of becoming good or evil.
This monster may yet be changed. Did not the de Lacys' kindness bring out the good in
him?"
"Yes, and how did he return their kindness? Do you think that they died by, chance? No,
they were destroyed by him just as surely as my William was."
I stared at him in horror at the idea. Did he mean that this creature had set light to the
house of a family that had made him their friend? I could not believe it. There was no
proof. And yet Frankenstein had planted doubt in my mind. If he really had killed
William, there was nothing, however evil, that he could not have done. But again - did
he murder William? I asked Frankenstein to tell me his story.
"You know," he said, "why I returned to Geneva in August after the failure of my
experiment. It was not because I feared the monster I had made, or the people of
Ingolstadt. I simply felt I had to escape from a town where I had wasted so much of my
life. I knew that it was time to go home.
"For some months I lived happily with my family and began to make plans for further
studies. I decided to leave science, and was thinking of studying music. Then one day,
quite without warning, my happiness was destroyed for ever.
"Justine and William went out every day when the weather was fine. There was nothing
to make us think that this day would be any different from all the other days: nothing in
Justine's manner to suggest that she was planning murder. There are two stories about
what happened after they left the house, Justine's and the court's. You have, I am sure,
heard the court's. Your father must have written to tell you all about it. Now let me tell
you Justine's.
"This is how she told it: after leaving home they walked up the hill, as they often did, to
a little wood about half a kilometre away. Just before they got to the wood Justine sat
down on a rock to do some needlework, while William picked flowers. He must have
gone into the wood, because a little later she heard his voice coming from the trees
together with another deeper, rougher voice. As she stood up to see who he was with,
she heard him give a cry of fear. She ran into the wood and was just in time to see him
being carried off under the arm of a huge, ugly, hairy man with no clothes on.
"She tried to pull William away from him, and succeeded for a short time in weakening
his hold on the boy. But this only made the man seize William by the neck with one
hand, and hold him at arm's length away from Justine. After keeping her off for a time
with his other hand, he at last struck her so suddenly and so hard that she fell to the
ground. When she woke up she found herself in the same place, and William beside her
dead, with black fingermarks on his neck. His broken chain lay nearby. The man had
quite disappeared.
"Think how the poor girl must have felt. Would they say it was all because she had let
William go off into the wood by himself that he had died? Would they believe her story
of a wild man whom nobody had ever seen before? All kinds of thoughts must have
been mixed up in her mind; and I can understand why she did not want to go back to
the house. So, with the gold chain still in her hand, she made the great mistake of
running away. As you know, she got as far as Thonon, where her wild looks and strange
manner caught the attention of the authorities. They held her there. Then the news of
the murder arrived from Geneva."
"Are you quite sure that the wild man in Justine's story was ... your monster?" I asked.
"I was able to question Justine closely in prison, and what she told me makes me think
that he may have changed since you last saw him. You say that in the forest he wore
clothes. He now seems to have given up clothes completely, and there has been a
growth of hair all over his body. But I have no doubt it is the same creature."
"What did you do when Justine was taken to prison?"
Frankenstein turned pale. "Everything ... everything I could to save her. I would have
died in her place at the Plainpalais this morning if they had let me. But the trouble was
that the authorities would not believe me. When I started talking about a monster I had
made, they thought I was mad. And even if they had believed me, I could not have
proved that it was the Monster that had killed William.
"I went to the wood, and found marks of feet, but they were not very clear. Besides it
rained heavily the next night. So when I showed them to the authorities they said that
they meant nothing. In the end I saw that my only hope of saving her was to prove that
there really was a monster; and to do this I had to find him. I spent the next three
weeks searching the mountains all around, but with no success."
"And Elizabeth?" I asked. "How did she take it?"
"Even without knowing what I knew, she did not believe that Justine was a murderer,
and she did what she could to save her. But Justine would not save herself. She seemed
to think that she was in some way the cause of William's death, and she no longer
wished to live. She did not even try to say anything in her own favour in court. In the
end even Elizabeth came to doubt her story."
Frankenstein looked very tired. "You must rest now," I said. "You trouble yourself too
much, thinking that they died because of you. They did not."
"It was because of me," he replied. "And as for rest, there will be no rest for me until I
find and destroy the creature I have made."
 CHAPTER 7 - We find the Monster

Frankenstein spent many months looking in the mountains, where he was sure the
Monster was hiding. In August he began to search near Mont Blanc. He went to
Chamonix near the bottom of the Mer de Glace glacier, the great river of ice coming
down from Mont Blanc.
One day we decided to cross the glacier itself. It was dangerous because of the deep
cracks in the ice. We had to walk round them, and it took us a long time to reach the
rock in the middle of the glacier. So we were surprised to see someone coming very
quickly, straight across the ice towards us.
"It's the Monster," said Frankenstein.
The Monster came on until he was about ten metres from us, then stopped. He
appeared to be staring at us, but his eyes were so hidden by the dirty hair that hung
down over his face that it was difficult to know what he was thinking.
We looked at each other for some minutes in silence. Then he moved nearer, bringing
with him a strong animal smell. If he had meant to attack us, he would surely have
done so by now.
Instead he began to speak. It was the first time we had heard his voice, which was
deep and rough. But the manner of his speaking did not prepare us for what he said.
We were surprised to find that behind that voice lay a thinking, feeling person.
"You may wonder why I have come to meet you here," he said, fixing his look upon
Frankenstein. "It is not to destroy you, as you would destroy me if you had the power
to do so. It is to tell you my story. When you have heard it, then, perhaps, you will tell
me whether I owe anything to you or to any man.
"First let me tell you how I found myself alone, cold, hungry and unclothed in the forest
near Ingolstadt. What my life before had been I did not know, except that I
remembered being in a room and you looking with disgust at me and shouting.
"I learned quickly how to live in the forest. There were springs for water and wild fruits
for food. My stomach learned to take the roughest and poorest food. After all, I was not
quite human, as you well know. At first I was cold, and had to walk about at night to
keep warm, sleeping during the day when the sun shone. Later I found clothes hanging
outside the houses of villagers. I saw what humans wore, and wished to wear the same,
since at that time I still foolishly hoped to be received as one of the human race."
The Monster's voice at this point shook with feeling. He went on: "But humans were
disgusted by me. One day I decided to enter a village to see what would happen. And
what did happen? The children ran away, the women cried out in horror and the men
threw stones at me. The body that you gave me disgusted them as it disgusted you. In
the end it disgusted me. I decided to go deeper into the forest to die - as you no doubt
hoped I would. It was then that I came upon the house of the de Lacys.
"At first I used to watch them from behind the trees. I used to see Felix go off into the
forest and return with firewood. I saw the old man sitting in the sun. But when I saw
Agatha I put away all thoughts of dying. I thought that she was as much above all the
other human beings as I was below them. I wanted to be her friend. I wanted to be a
friend to them all. So I began to gather wood in the forest every day and lay it beside
their door; and sometimes wild fruits - early in the morning before they got up.
"One morning, just as I was putting the wood there, the door suddenly opened, and
there stood Agatha. When she saw me she was surprised and frightened, but she did
not shut the door. She gave me food, and I stayed. They all began asking me
questions, but I could not answer them then. However, as I visited the house again and
again, I began to understand and speak their language. In the end I moved into the
little hut behind the house. And when Agatha and Felix used to read to their father in
the evenings, I listened, and learned about the world outside the forest. I even learned
to read, myself, and learned from history that human beings hardly treated each other
any better than they treated me."
"I learned, too, the meaning of words like brother, sister, father and mother. I saw that
I had none of these. I could not even remember having been a child. Had I forgotten all
my early life, I used to wonder. Or was there nothing to forget? Could it be that I had
not been born, but made already fully grown? If so, who had made me? All I could
remember was a face. But whose face was it?
"The answer to my question came by chance. A man called at the cottage one day while
I was in the forest and talked to the de Lacys about my 'master', Frankenstein, of
Geneva. At last I knew my maker's name and where he lived. One day, I decided, I
would go and seek him. But before I could do this, something happened which turned
me against the human race for ever.
"I saw that in the world people lived in families, but I had no family. I knew that
families could be made by two people who loved each other. From the time I first saw
her, Agatha had seemed to me like something from another world; and the longer I
lived with the de Lacys the more I grew to love her.
"One day when Felix had gone to the town, and the old father was asleep in his room, I
found Agatha reading a book under the apple tree in the garden. I knelt down in front of
her and told her of my love. I took her hand and kissed it.
"She pulled it back as if I had laid a red-hot iron there. Without a word she threw down
her book and ran into the house. She stayed in her room all that afternoon. She did not
have to speak: her face told me everything I needed to know. It had the same look as
the first human face I ever saw - a look of horror, fear, disgust.
 "I knew then that I could never find happiness in human company, and ran off into the
thickest part of the forest. For days I lay there, turning my sorrows over and over in my
mind. Why should these humans treat me as they did? Was I just an animal to work for
them? They had used me but never loved me.
"It was then that I decided to destroy them. One night when they were all asleep, I
came quietly to their house. First I made sure that nobody could get out, by rolling
large rocks against the doors. Next I went to the place built into the outside wall of the
house where Agatha used to make bread. I blew the dying fire to life again, and with a
handful of dried grass I carried the fire to the edge of the roof. The roof was made of
dry stuff and burnt easily. I stood aside and waited." The Monster’s voice stopped. He
closed his eyes and rubbed his hairy body with his great hands. He smiled as he
remembered.
"After a time I heard cries from inside. But the windows were small, the old man was
blind, and there was thick smoke. They died; I laughed; and ran off into the forest. I
was on my way to Geneva.
 "I travelled by night so that I should not meet anybody. Because I no longer wished to
belong to the human race I gave up wearing clothes, and soon found that the cold did
not trouble me any more. Coming down from the mountains to the east end of the Lake
of Geneva, I swam across the lake to Savoy, and went on towards Geneva along the
south shore.
"At that point I knew I was faced with a difficulty. I knew that Geneva was a large town,
and I had no way of finding where my maker lived. But I was lucky. Early one morning
as I was passing some large country houses quite a long way before the town, I read,
cut in the stone gate-post of one of them, the words Villa Frankenstein. I had arrived.
"I spent the next four days in the woods above the house, waiting for you to come
walking that way, so that I could speak to you. But you never came. Instead, one
afternoon I saw a young woman with a child coming up the path. I did not know who
this child was. But as I watched him picking flowers and wandering nearer and nearer
the place where I lay, an idea came to me. I would try human company once more. If I
could take a child like this, too young to have fixed ideas, it might grow up to love me
and be my friend. Yes, I would carry him off to some lonely place in the mountains and
bring him up in my way.
"So I waited until the child came into the wood, and then got hold of him. He fought
and cried out. The young woman came up and tried to pull him away. I held the child
out of her reach; but I was holding him by the neck, and by the time I had dealt with
her he was dead.
"I knew I could not stay after that, and so I crossed the mountains to this place, where
I have been living in a cave on the edge of the glacier ever since. I was going to come
to you, because I have something to ask you. Instead, you have come to me!
"Yes, Frankenstein, with the strength that you gave me I could kill you now, and your
friend as well. But because I need you, I will not. I need you to make my miserable life
worth living. Make me happy and I will be good."
At this, Frankenstein, who had remained silent all through the Monster's story, began to
show interest. "What do you want?" he asked.
"A wife," the Monster replied.
"A wife?" cried Frankenstein. "Are you mad? Where can I find a woman who would want
to be the wife of an evil creature like you?"
"You cannot find one," said the Monster. "That is why I have come to you. You must
make me one."
"What!" shouted Frankenstein. "Make another like you?"
"A woman - as ugly as myself."
"Never!" said Frankenstein. "The very idea is so frightful that I will not even think of it.
Even if you throw me down the deepest crack in the ice I will never make another like
you."
The Monster smiled again his evil smile. "Even if I throw not only you, but all those
whom you love down with you? Master, think again. You are putting others in
unnecessary danger - your friend here, your father, the young woman who lives in your
house. Besides, I am ready to make you a promise. As soon as you have made her we
will both leave the world of cities and men, and go to the forests of South America. You
will never see or hear from us again."
For a time nobody spoke. Then Frankenstein turned to me. "Leave us, Henri," he said.
"Go back over the ice and wait for me there. This creature must have an answer."
I wanted to stay, but I could see from Frankenstein's look that he wanted to be left
alone. The sun had already gone behind the mountain, and a cold wind began to blow
down the glacier.
"Come soon," I said, and started back across the ice. When I looked back they were as
I had left them, still talking on the rock while their shadows grew longer. 
CHAPTER 8 - Elizabeth

It was an hour before I saw Frankenstein coming back across the glacier. If he had
been any later he would have been in danger of losing his way among the cracks. But
for the Monster to let him go at all must mean that they had reached an understanding
of some kind. He came on so slowly that I could tell what that understanding was. It
was not just because he was tired: he brought news that he was unwilling to tell.
"Did you promise?" I asked.
"How could I not have promised? He calls me 'master', but he knows very well who
commands and who obeys."
"And if they have children?" I asked. "If they create a new race in South America,
enemies of the human race ... ?"
"I cannot even be sure that he will keep his promise and go to South America,"
Frankenstein replied. "But that is a chance I have to take. What can I do, Henri? He
comes and goes so secretly. His powers are more than human. He will destroy my
family if I do not do what he wants. God knows how hateful this is to me, but I cannot
do anything else. I just have to make another monster. And ... " He stopped, as if
uncertain how to go on. "And again I shall need your help. Are you willing to give it?"

This was the question I feared. I had done little to help with the first monster. That had
been Frankenstein's creation. Would the second monster be not just his, but ours? I did
not think it right to make a second one. And yet, if I did not help, and the second
monster was not made, I would be leaving the Frankensteins to face certain death.
Also, even after all that had happened, I had to be fair to the Monster. Did he not have
a right to happiness? Those words of his kept coming back to me: "Make me happy and
I will be good." The mistake had been to make the first monster; but having made it,
might Frankenstein not be right to make another?
"I will help you," I said at last, "but only by keeping you supplied with what you need,
by keeping you fed, and by carrying letters to and from the place where you work. But I
will take no part in the work itself."
"I ask no more," said Frankenstein in reply.

We returned to Belrive the next day. The weather remained fine, and we began once
more to live that happy family life which we had almost forgotten. The deaths of Justine
and William were still in our minds, but they no longer hung over us like dark clouds. As
for Frankenstein's promise to the Monster, he seemed to put it quite out of his mind for
the next few weeks. Time passed pleasantly. We went out in the boat, we read in the
garden, we went for walks in the hills. We did everything rather than begin work on the
new monster. In fact, Frankenstein found so many reasons for waiting that I began to
wonder if he would ever begin.
In the end two things moved him to start. First his father called him into his room one
day.
"Victor," he said, "you will remember that just before your mother died she told you her
greatest wish. I am an old man, and it would please me if before I died I could see that
wish come true. It may be that by now you think of Elizabeth more as a sister than as a
possible wife. You may even know someone else whom you like better. If so, you must
say, because I am not the kind of father who forces his children to marry against their
will. Please think about this: if she is not to marry you, we must find somebody else for
her. She has a right to know what your feelings are."
Frankenstein knew that his father was right. Elizabeth ought to know how she stood.
She had never said a word about marriage, or even let him feel that she was thinking
about it. About his own feelings he was quite clear. Yes, he wanted to marry her -he
had no doubts about it- but not yet. First he had to carry out his promise to the
Monster.
This was one thing that made him decide to begin work. But there was another.
Elizabeth was not just a simple housekeeper. She had a quick mind and a woman's
natural curiosity. She knew that Frankenstein's unhappiness was not the result of
William's and Justine's deaths alone. Something else was troubling him, and she wanted
to know what it was. Nor was this just curiosity. She loved my friend, and only wished
to learn his secret in order to help him.
However, both Victor and I had always been careful to keep the truth from her. We
thought it would do her no good to know, and we did not like it when a most unpleasant
happening one night gave her much to think about.

At this time we used to go to bed quite early. There was nothing to stay out of bed for
in the country. Beside Frankenstein did not find it easy to talk to his father and
Elizabeth. He had too much to hide, too much that he could only talk about to me. So,
one windless, moonless night, a few days after old Frankenstein's talk with his son,
Elizabeth lay in bed reading by the light of a candle. Opposite her was the dark square
of the open window; and through it from time to time little flying things kept coming in,
drawn by the light of her candle.
She looked up from her book as one of them flew in, and her eye was caught by the
appearance of the window. There was something different about its shape - something
that had not been there before. She looked again. Two large, brown, hairy hands had
appeared at the bottom of the window. As she watched, too frightened to move or
speak, the hands turned white as their owner slowly pulled himself up.
Elizabeth was prepared for the face of a thief, but not for this; not for the hanging
yellow skin, the watery eyes, the knotted hair and the join lines. She let out a sharp
cry, and the face dropped below the window again. The hands disappeared. Less than a
minute later I was in her room and listening to her story.
I lit a lamp and went out into the garden. I hurriedly kicked soil over the marks of feet
that I found in the soft earth of the flower-bed below Elizabeth's window.
" ... a dream, a bad dream ... " I could hear Frankenstein saying in the room above.
"I tell you, it was not a dream, Victor," Elizabeth replied, coming to the window. "Can't
you see anything down there, Henri?"
 "Nothing," I said truthfully. I said nothing about what I had seen.
"See," said Frankenstein. "How could anyone put his hands on your window and pull
himself up, as you said? It is more than three metres to the ground. Why, a man would
have to be unnaturally tall to do such a thing."
Elizabeth said no more. She knew we were trying to hide something, but it was not her
way to ask questions. She shut the window, and went back to bed.

Next morning Frankenstein came to my room with the look on his face of a man who
has decided on action.
"I cannot leave things any longer," he said. "The creature has been watching us for
weeks. Last night he must have been trying to find me and went to the wrong window. I
know he will not let me alone until I have done what he wants. I cannot take the chance
of another visit like last night's. Besides, who knows? Next time it could really be
Elizabeth whom he has come to see. I cannot have her frightened like this. We start
work at once."
"But you cannot work here," I said. "She already knows that something is going on."
"Exactly. That's why I am going to leave home. In my search for the Monster earlier this
year I found by chance an empty wood-cutter's hut in the valley of the Arve. It is far
enough from Belrive to make it safe from family visitors, but near enough to Geneva for
me to get the supplies I need." 
"And my job?" I asked.
"It will be better if you stay here most of the time," he replied. "But you will visit me
often, bringing food and letters." He stopped and thought for a minute. "There is
another thing I want you to do ... "
I looked at him expectantly.
"If, for any reason, I fail to complete this work, it may not be me who will suffer first,
but Elizabeth. Guard her, and be prepared for anything."
CHAPTER 9 - Frankenstein in prison

That day, Elizabeth agreed to marry Frankenstein. I was happy in their happiness, but
also a little sad because I was in love with Elizabeth myself.
Then Frankenstein told his father about his plans to take up scientific work again - in a
hut in the Arve valley. Old Frankenstein was glad about that and about the plans for the
marriage in November. But Elizabeth knew that Victor and I were not telling the whole
truth. She felt that she was left out, and this hurt her.
The hut was away from the road, hidden by trees, and near a fast-flowing stream
running down to the Arve. Frankenstein settled down there, and I brought his supplies.
Some of them came from men of a very unpleasant kind, and I did not like taking them
to the hut.
We knew that Elizabeth and old Frankenstein were safe: although we never saw him, it
was clear that the Monster was watching the hut.
Elizabeth often asked what Frankenstein's work was.
"I'm not a scientist like Victor," I used to answer. "I don't know what it is about."
She did not like that answer, but Frankenstein would not let me tell her the truth.
By the end of October, the New Woman was ready. For the first time, I went into the
work-room and saw her.
"Make her as ugly as myself," the Monster had said. She was horrible.
The weather remained unusually sunny. Frankenstein waited for the lightning. The
waiting gave him time to think; and doubts crowded into his mind.

I returned to Belrive, promising to return to the hut if the weather changed. This time
Elizabeth said very little about Frankenstein and the hut. After two days, I went to
Geneva to do some business for old Frankenstein. At the town gates I met a friend.
"What are you doing here, Clerval?" he said. "Frankenstein is in prison here, and they
say you are mixed up in it too."
"In prison?" I said. "For what?"
"Don't you know? He killed someone, they say. A boy who was fishing in the Arve found
a human leg in the water. So the authorities sent men to search, and they found an arm
in a stream near a hut, and Frankenstein getting ready to leave."

I hurriedly rode back to Belrive. Questions raced through my brain.

Frankenstein's wait, I decided, had made him change his ideas. He saw that it was
wrong to give life to yet another monster. He had destroyed the body and thrown the
pieces in the stream.
"But the Monster will find out," I thought. "Old Frankenstein and Elizabeth are in the
greatest danger."
When I reached the house I jumped off my horse, and did not even stop to tie it to the
usual tree before running inside. By then I felt sure that something frightful had already
happened. But as I entered the sitting room, what did I see? Old Frankenstein sitting in
his favourite windowseat quietly reading a book. So the Monster had not reached the
house, after all. There was still time to prepare.
In as few words as possible I told the old gentleman about Victor being in prison. He
had already suffered so much, and for a minute I feared that this bad news would make
him ill. However, he seemed to take it in without too much excitement, and I went on:
"Victor, of course, has not killed anybody. They have made a mistake, and can prove
nothing in a court of law. You will do what you can to get him out of prison. But this is
not all. There is danger. I cannot tell you now what Victor has been doing. All I will say
is that he has made an enemy - a powerful bloodthirsty enemy who, if he cannot
destroy Victor himself, will destroy his family and friends. We must prepare ourselves
for his coming; he may even be here tonight. Elizabeth must be told at once."
"Ah, my friend," said the old man, shaking his head sadly. "You have come too late.
Elizabeth is not here."
"Not here?" Now it was my turn to be surprised. "Where is she, then?"
"Just after you left this morning she told me that she was going to visit Victor in his hut.
She went off with our servant, Emile, at about nine o'clock."
No wonder she had been so quiet about Frankenstein and the hut! She had been
planning this journey all the time. She knew that I would not take her, so she had
decided to go by herself - to the hut of all places, where it was very possible that the
angry Monster was waiting. I had expected the Monster to come to Elizabeth, but I had
never expected Elizabeth to go to him.

There was no time to waste. While old Frankenstein got ready to go to Geneva, to try to
get his son out of prison, I took a fresh horse and rode back along the lake. This time I
took a pistol with me. From now on it was kill or be killed.
I left the lake road at Cologny, and followed small country roads to the valley of the
Arve. There was just a chance that I might meet the Monster on the way, since he
would not go by the busy road that Elizabeth had taken.
There was still a chance that he had missed her; still a chance that she would not find
the hut.
However, I did not meet the Monster on the way. And when I came at last to the edge
of the wood in which the hut stood, my fears increased. Two untied horses were eating
the grass. These were the horses that Elizabeth and Emile had taken. Emile would never
have left them to wander like this.
I tied my own horse to a tree and went the rest of the way on foot, holding my pistol
ready. As I came near the hut I stopped and listened, but there was no sound except
the noise of the stream. Stepping forward, I looked in through the open window of
Frankenstein's work-room.
Everything in it had been completely destroyed! Only a creature of more than human
strength and more than human hate could have done such things as had been done in
that room: every piece of metal bent and torn; every piece of wood broken into the
smallest pieces; glass beaten to powder. Only a madman could have done it, and I tried
not to think of what the angry Monster might do to a living person if this was what he
did to things.
I went in and searched every room of the hut, but found nobody, dead or alive. I looked
all round the outside of the hut, but still found nothing.

At first I did not see Emile lying by the side of the stream. It was not exactly that I did
not see him. I just did not see him as a human shape. His arms, legs and head were so
unnaturally arranged that he looked like something else. Every bone in his body must
have been broken. I could see at once that he was dead, but what about Elizabeth? I
went up and down the stream several times and found nothing. I searched the woods
near the hut. Still nothing.
I spent the rest of the afternoon looking in everwidening circles round the hut without
any success. Then, just before it began to get dark, beside a path leading out of the
wood on the south I found a shoe. It was Elizabeth's. With fear in my heart I searched
all round this place but found nothing else. To find nothing was best, I told myself. He
must surely have carried her off alive.
Just as this thought came into my mind I heard a sound behind me. I reached for my
pistol, but there was no need.
"Frankenstein!" I cried.
"Have I come too late?" he asked. Then as he saw doubt in my face, he said: "Don't be
afraid. I haven't escaped. My father promised to bring me in front of the judges when
the time comes, and they let me out. I don't have to tell you what happened after you
left me. You know my mind. You must know what I did here. Now you must tell me
what happened here since."
I told my story, short as it was. When I had finished, he took the shoe from me and
held it close to his heart for a long time without speaking. He looked like an unhappy
child holding on to a favourite plaything. He seemed to have lost all power to do
anything.

I led the way back to the hut. It was now dark and cold. I made a fire with the bits of
broken furniture and we ate the small amount of food that I had brought along. What
were we to do? The trouble was that we knew nothing. Was Elizabeth alive or was she
no more than a broken body lying in some dark corner of the woods? We did not know.
But the hope that she was alive remained. If the Monster had meant to kill her he would
surely have done it here. He must have taken her with him, either as a way of making
Frankenstein begin work again on a new body, or to make her his wife. The great
question was where had they gone, and to that there seemed to be no answer.
In the end we cleared a corner of the room and settled down for the night. We could do
nothing until the first light of day. Perhaps even then we could do nothing.  
CHAPTER 10 - The end of the Monster... and Frankenstein

We were tired, but we did not sleep. As well as the unanswerable questions that raced
around our minds all night the sound of thunder far away wakened old fears. The fine
weather which had been the cause of Frankenstein's deciding to end the experiment
was breaking up at last.
Cold and hungry, and with arms and legs that did not seem to want to bend, we went
out at first light and led our horses to drink from the stream. Then we started along the
path where I had found the shoe the day before. All we knew was that the Monster had
passed that way about sixteen hours earlier. He could be anywhere by now.
We stopped and thought, and decided to continue along the path. We had no better
ideas. We followed it out of the woods to the south-west until we came to a place where
it went two ways. One way turned back towards the upper Arve valley, and the other
continued towards the Salève. Had he gone up the Arve to Chamonix and the great
glacier above? It made sense. He knew we could never follow him through the snows of
the highest mountains at this time of the year. As we stopped there, trying to decide
which path to take, I noticed something lying a little way along the second of the two
paths. I got down from my horse and walked over to pick it up. It was Elizabeth's other
shoe! Frankenstein came up, took it in his hands and turned it over doubtfully.
"Well," I said, "aren't you pleased? Isn't it a piece of luck? Just when we need to know
which way they went, we find this."
"Exactly," my friend replied. "Just when we need to know. Luck? I'm not so sure."
"Then it must be Elizabeth's doing," I said. "She's trying to show us the way."
Frankenstein shook his head. "I think the truth is less simple than you think, I believe
both these shoes were dropped by the Monster."
"By the Monster?" I cried. "But why should he want us to know where he has gone?"
 "Don't you see? To draw us into his power," was Frankenstein's answer. "I think he
wants to destroy all three of us. He has Elizabeth, and he is using her to catch us. That
shoe was lying right in the middle of the path. It was just too easy."
I did not believe him then. But when at the next place where the path went two ways
we found a handkerchief hanging from a branch of a tree, I began to think my friend
might be right. I kept my hand on my pistol from that time on.
It was about ten o'clock when we stopped to rest under the shadow of the Salève. It
was not clear where we were meant to go from there. If the Monster was looking for a
wild place to live in, he would not choose the Salève. This was not a place of snow and
ice, but pleasant grassland lying on top of great white cliffs.
Frankenstein had said little that morning; but there was a look on his face that told me
more than words could ever tell. He would not rest now until he had destroyed his
creature - or until he himself was destroyed.
More thunder sounded, much nearer now. I looked up to the mountain, now unusually
clear in the still, heavy air that waited for the coming storm. Something was moving
along the edge of the cliff. "Too big for a man, or an animal," I said, pointing.
Frankenstein looked up. "But not for a monster carrying a girl," he said. "You see, he is
right on the edge of the cliff where he can be seen against the sky. Clever. He knows
we are here, and means us to follow him."

We rode on towards a break in the cliff, where it was possible to climb up to the top by
a rocky path. There we left our horses and started climbing. Usually the Monster would
have been able to move much faster than us, but even he must have felt the weight of
Elizabeth, and when we got to the top we found ourselves not so far behind him.
"If he saw us when we were below, why did he not attack us when we were coming up
the cliff? Why is he racing on like this?"
"He still wants to lead us on," Frankenstein replied. "He is making for the highest point
of the cliff. When he gets there he will throw her down. And if we are there to see him
do it, the greater will be his pleasure."

The storm was about to break over us. As we pushed on higher and higher over the
rough grass, the first few heavy drops of rain began to fall. Every few minutes a flash of
lightning lit up the shape of the Monster, half carrying, half pulling Elizabeth nearer and
nearer to the place he had chosen for her death. He was tired now, and as we began to
get closer, he kept looking back. Evil burned in his eyes, and his hair -made wet by the
now heavy rain- hung down over his face like oily rope.
Frankenstein and I were climbing side by side. Since I was on the cliff side, I gave as
much attention to the placing of my feet as to what the Monster was doing. One
careless step on the wet rock meant a fall of a hundred metres and certain death.
We were very close behind him when the first lightning struck the high rocks in front. I
remember smelling that  strange burning smell that it gives off when close. The Monster
stopped, and I thought at first that he was blinded by the flash. But then he suddenly
turned to face us, holding Elizabeth in his arms.
I pulled out my pistol from inside my coat where I had been keeping it dry. I just had
time to see that I could not possibly use it without putting Elizabeth in danger, when all
at once the Monster raised her high above his head and threw her at me with all his
strength.
If her body had struck me any higher, it would have carried me over the edge; which,
of course, was what the Monster was trying to do. As it happened, only my feet went
over, and I found myself hanging there with my arms around Elizabeth's neck. She put
her arms round my neck, and there we were, both for the minute helpless; she lying on
the edge, and me hanging over it. I remember listening to the sound of my pistol falling
from rock to rock, until at last it went off with a loud noise somewhere near the bottom
of the cliff.
"Hold on! Hold on!" I cried, wildly trying to find a foothold in the rock. I could not see
what Frankenstein and the Monster were doing. Nor did I care. The most important
thing in the world for me just then was to get one leg over the edge of the cliff. I did it.
After that it was not hard to get my whole body up. As I lay there getting my strength
back, I saw that Frankenstein and the Monster were fighting further along on the edge
of the cliff. The rock beneath their feet was wet with the blood that poured from a
wound in the Monster's chest. It had been made by a knife in Frankenstein's hand.
However, the Monster's own huge hand had closed over his, and with a sudden
movement the Monster tore the knife from him. He raised it high above his head. For
the first time I saw real joy on his face. I turned my head away. I could not see my
friend die.
There was a blue flash, and then I could see nothing.

I woke up to pain and the smell of burning. This time it was not just the smell of burnt
air. My coat was on fire. I tore it off, and threw it on the ground and put the fire out
with my feet, One side of my face hurt, and as I put my hand up to feel it, I found that
some of my hair was burnt. All round me the grass was brown and smoking. I had stood
closer to death than I had ever stood before, and I thanked God that I was still alive.
Elizabeth was lying at my feet. Her clothes were also burnt, but the heavy rain had
already put out the fire. I raised her to her knees, and as I held her body to mine I felt
her heart beating. She was alive.
But what about Frankenstein and the Monster?
I turned to where I had last seen them. One blackened mass was all that was left of
their bodies. Together in death, creator and creature could no longer be separated.

It was some time before I could work out what had happened. The knife which the
Monster had raised to drive into Frankenstein's body had drawn down the lightning
upon him. That same force of nature which had created him had destroyed him.
Shaking myself free from the waking dream that held me, I pulled Elizabeth to her feet,
and hand in hand we hurried down the mountain, not stopping until we reached the
frightened horses below.

Blackened, burnt and wet to the skin, we rode to Geneva in complete silence.
For some, at least, this strange, unhappy story ended well. Although we did not know it,
as we rode through the rain that day, happier days were waiting for Elizabeth and me.
The death of Victor was a heavy loss to bear, whether he was remembered as a friend,
or a lover or a son. Old Frankenstein took the news badly, as one might expect. But he
was strong in mind and body. He lived not only long enough to give Elizabeth and me
his blessing when we got married, but also to see our first son given the name of Victor.
I am an old man now - as old as Frankenstein's father was then. Like him, too, I have
lived to see the death of a much-loved wife. Since it cannot be long before I follow her,
I have set this story down, as I promised at the beginning, so that it will not die with
me.
As for the secret of creating life, that died with Frankenstein. Perhaps, as scientists
learn more, that secret will one day be rediscovered. But by that time I shall be dead.
And I think I shall not be sorry.  
THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan

The Thirty-Nine Steps is a story of exciting adventures, narrow escapes and the last-minute
solution of a deep mystery. This novel was written in 1915, during the First World War.
There is a band of dangerous enemy agents in England. They have killed someone who has
discovered something about their plans. Can Hannay find out what that was before they can
kill him too?

Click on the chapters to read or print out.

Pulsa en los capítulos para leer o imprimir.

1. The Man Who Died

2. The Milkman
3. The Literary Inn-keeper
4. Sir Harry, the Young Politician
5. The Roadman Who Wore Spectacles
6. The Strange House on the Moor
7. The Fisherman
8. The Coming of The Black Stone
9. The Thirty-Nine Steps

10. The House by the Sea

THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS

John Buchan

CHAPTER 1: THE MAN WHO DIED

My name is Richard Hannay and I am thirty-seven years old.
I was born in Scotland, but in 1883 my family moved to Rhodesia. I grew up there
and worked hard for twenty years. Then in March 1914 I returned to Britain. That was
five months before the First World War began. I brought plenty of money with me and
I wanted a good holiday. Indeed, Britain was the centre of all my dreams and plans,
and I hoped to stay there for the rest of my life.
In May I was living in London in a flat which I had taken. One evening I was reading
the newspaper there alone. There was some trouble in the East, and I also read a
story about Karolides, the Greek Prime Minister.
'He's a good man,' I said to myself, 'and he's honest too. He may be the strongest
Prime Minister in Europe, but the Germans hate him.'
Suddenly I heard a quiet knock on the door. I put down the newspaper and opened
the door. A man was standing outside, and I recognized him at once. I did not know
his name, but he had a flat on the top floor. He was a thin fellow with small bright
blue eyes.
'I live on the top floor,' he said. 'Can I speak to you? May I come in?'
I invited him in and shut the door.
'I'm very sorry,' he -said. 'But I'm in trouble. Will you help me?'
'Well, I'll listen to you,' I said. 'But I'd rather not promise more than that.'
I could see that he was nervous. He could not stand still, so I mixed a strong drink for
him. He drank it at once. When he put down the glass, he broke it.
'Excuse me,' he said. 'I'm rather nervous tonight and there's a good reason for it. Now
you seem honest, sir, and you look brave too. Well, I'm in great trouble and I need a
friend.'
'Tell me about it,' I said, 'and then I'll give you my answer.'
'I'm an American,' he said. 'A few years ago I came to Europe to work for an American
newspaper. I learned several languages and discovered quite a lot about European
politics. I also found out the German plans for war and I know a group of German
spies. Well, these spies are hunting me now, and that's the trouble. If you know
anything about politics, sir, you'll know this. Europe is very near to war, and there's
only one man who can stop it.' 
'Who is he?' I asked. 
'Karolides, the Greek Prime Minister.'   
'Oh, I've just been reading about him,' I said. 'There's a story in the evening paper.'
'Yes. Well, the Germans want to kill him,' he said. 'They would kill me too if they
could. Karolides will be coming to London next month. He has been invited to the
Foreign Office on June 15th, and they've chosen that date to kill him. I'm the only
man who can save him.'
'And how can I help you, Mr. -?'
'Scudder,' he said. 'Franklin P. Scudder. I've just told you, sir, that these spies want to
kill me. I thought that I was quite safe in London. I was sure that my enemies hadn't
followed me here. But yesterday evening I found a card in my letter-box, and there
was a man's name on it. It was the name of my worst enemy.'
'You ought to tell the Foreign Office,' I said. 'They'll help you and they may save
Karolides too.'
'There's no time for that. My enemies know that I'm in this building. They may be
waiting outside to catch me. Do you think that I can hide in your flat, sir?'
'Well, I'd better prove your story first,' I said. 'I'll go outside and look around. If I see
anything suspicious, I'll agree to help you. Is that all right?'
I left the flat and went out into the street. A man was standing outside the building.
He raised his hand as soon as he saw me. I looked around quickly and noticed a face
at a window-across the street. The man's signal was' answered immediately, and the
face disappeared. I bought another newspaper at the corner of the street and then
went back to the flat.
'All right, Mr. Scudder,' I said. 'You can stay here tonight. I've proved your story.
There's a fellow outside who looks rather suspicious. Your enemies may be staying in
the house across the street. I saw a face at the window but it soon disappeared.'

Scudder stayed quietly in my flat for several days. When I went out, he was very
nervous. I noticed that someone was always standing outside the building. I saw the
face at the window a few times, but no one came to the flat.
Scudder wrote a lot of short notes in a little black book. He counted the days to June I
5th and marked them off in the book.
One day he said, 'The time is going quickly, Hannay. If they're still watching the
house, I won't be able to escape. If anything happens to me, will you continue the
fight?'
I liked Scudder's adventures, and his story was exciting. But I had no interest in
politics, and I did not listen to him carefully. He continued to talk.
He told me about a woman named Julia Czechenyi who was one of the spies. 'She's a
terrible enemy, Hannay,' he said, 'but the old man is worse.'
This old man was Scudder's chief enemy, and he described him very carefully. 'It's
strange,' he said, 'but he has the voice of a young man. And his eyes, Hannay! If you
see his eyes, you'll never forget them. They're small and bright, like a bird's eyes.'
He talked for a long time that day. I cannot remember everything that he said. But I
noticed that he was more nervous than usual.
In the evening I went out to dinner with a friend. It was half-past ten when I
returned. I opened the door of the flat and went in. The lights were not lit and this
seemed rather strange. I put them on and looked around. There was nobody there
and I thought that Scudder had gone to bed early.
I walked into the next room and saw something in the corner. For a moment I did not
recognize it, but then I suddenly felt very cold and weak. I wanted to open my mouth
and cry out. But I could not move or say anything.
Scudder was lying on his back in the corner. There was a long knife through his heart.
Its handle stood up above his clothes, and the poor man was fixed to the floor.

Adapted by Roland John for Intermediate Level

THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan

CHAPTER 2: THE MILKMAN

At last I sat down feeling very sick. I sat there for perhaps five minutes and then I felt
afraid. I was so nervous that I had to cover Scudder's body with a tablecloth. But I
could still see the form of the handle of the knife. It was pointing at me like a finger. I
got a drink for myself and sat down again to think.
Scudder was dead and his body proved his story. His enemies had killed him because
he knew their plans.
'They'll kill me next,' I thought. 'They know that he lived on the top floor. They know
that he has been in my flat for three or four days. And they'll guess that he told me
their plans.'
What could I do? Well, I could go to the police at once and tell them the story. But
they would be suspicious if I told them about Scudder's death. 'They'll guess that I
killed him,' I thought. 'They may blame me for his death.'
I thought about the matter for a long time and then I made a plan. I had not known
Scudder very well but I had liked him. I enjoyed an adventure too, and I wanted to
continue his work.
'I may write to the Prime, Minister,' I thought, 'or to the Foreign Office. But perhaps
that won't be necessary. I'll disappear for a few weeks. Then I'll come back to London
and go to the police.'
I went over to Scudder's body and took off the cloth. I had seen him writing in a little
book and I searched his pockets. But the book was gone, and he had no papers at all.
I opened my desk and took out a map of Britain. I thought that Scotland was the best
place for my plan. I was born there and I still speak like a Scotsman. In Rhodesia I
had learned German very well too, and I thought about going to Germany. But
perhaps Scotland was the better idea.
I chose Galloway, which was a wild part of the country. There were few big towns
there, and it was not too far to travel. I knew that there was a train to Scotland in the
morning. It left London at ten minutes past seven. But how could I get out of the flat?
I should not be able to escape if Scudder's enemies were outside the building.
Then suddenly I had a wonderful idea. Every morning at half-past six the milkman
delivered my milk. He was a young man and we were the same size. He had a short
black moustache and wore a white hat and coat. My idea was to borrow his clothes
and the can of milk. Then I could escape from the building as the milkman.
I went to bed then and slept for a few hours. In the morning I had a bath and
carefully cut my moustache. It was long and dark and I cut it short. I counted my
money and put fifty pounds in my pocket. While I was getting ready, I remembered
my tobacco. When I put my fingers into the large tobacco-box, I felt something hard
under the tobacco. It was Scudder's little black book, and I put it in my pocket. 
It was a good sign, I thought. Scudder had hidden it there, and his enemies had not
found it.
It was twenty minutes to seven now, and the milkman was late. But suddenly I heard
the noise of the milk-can on the stairs, and I opened the door.
'Come in, please,' I said. 'I want to speak to you.'
He came into the flat, and I shut the door.
'Listen,' I said, 'you're a good fellow, and I want you to help me.' I took a sovereign
out of my pocket and added, 'If you agree, I'll give you this.
'When he saw the sovereign, his eyes opened wide.
'What do you want me to do?' he asked.
'I want to borrow your clothes and your milk-can for a few minutes,' I said.
He laughed and said, 'What do you want them for?'
'Well, I've just remembered something, but I can't explain it now. Let me borrow the
things, and I'll be back in ten minutes.' I put the sovereign into his hand.
'All right,' he said. 'I like a bit of fun too.'
I put on his clothes and we went out of the flat. I shut the door behind me.
'Don't follow me,' I said. 'I'll soon be back.'
I went down the stairs and into the street. I made a noise with the milk-can and
began to sing. A man who was standing outside looked at me, but he did not say
anything. I looked at the house across the street and noticed the face at the window
again. I turned into another street and began to run. Then I took off the milkman's
clothes and threw them, and the milk-can, over a wall.
When I arrived at the railway station, it was ten minutes past seven. The train was
moving slowly out of the station, and I had no time to buy a ticket. I ran forward and
caught the handle of a door. I got it open and climbed into the train.
The ticket-collector soon came along. He was rather angry with me, and I had to
invent some excuses. But he accepted these and wrote a ticket to Newton-Stewart in
Galloway.
THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan

CHAPTER 3: THE LITERARY INN-KEEPER

All that day I travelled to the north. The train stopped at Leeds station where I bought
a basket of food and the morning newspapers. Another ticket-collector came in and
told me that I had to change trains at Dumfries.
I read the papers, but of course there was nothing in them about Scudder's death. It
was too early for that. Then I took out Scudder's little book. It was full of figures but
there were also a few strange names. I noticed the words 'Hofgaard', 'Luneville',
'Avocado' and 'Pavia'. 'Pavia' appeared several times.
It was clearly some kind of code and I have always been interested in codes. I looked
carefully at this one. Scudder had written numbers instead of letters. But what did the
names mean? I knew that some of them were towns. But had he used them instead of
People's names? There is usually a key-word in codes like this, and I tried to guess it.
'Hofgaard' was clearly not the key-word because it did not suit the rest of the code. I
tried the other words too but none suited the code.
I slept for an hour or two, and then the ticket-collector's voice woke me up.
'Be quick, sir. I mean that you have to change here.'I looked out of the window. We
were at Dumfries, and the train had stopped. I got out and crossed the station to the
Galloway train. 
The train was quite full, and I had an interesting conversation with a farmer. He
thought that I was a farmer too! We talked about cattle and crops and prices. Many
people got out at different stations, but I continued. At five o'clock the train stopped
at a small place which suited me very well. I cannot remember its name, but it was
quiet. And it was a long way from London.
I got out and a child took my ticket. It was such a fine evening that I felt quite happy.
I followed the road for a mile perhaps and then took a path along a valley. It was not
long before I reached a cottage. There was a woman at the door of the cottage and I
spoke to her. She answered me very politely, and I said, 'May I stay here tonight?'
'You're welcome,' she replied. 'Please come in.' 
Very soon she laid a fine meal in front of me, and I drank several glasses of thick
sweet milk.
When it grew dark, her husband came home. He was a big man with a thick black
moustache. We talked politely for an hour or more, and smoked some of my tobacco.
They did not ask me any questions but guessed perhaps that I was a farmer.
In the morning I enjoyed a large breakfast. But when I offered half a sovereign to the
woman, she would not take it. It was a warm day, so she gave me a small can of milk
to take with me. It was nine o'clock when I left the cottage.
I walked a few miles to the south because I wanted to return to the railway. But of
course I could not go back to the same little station. The railway men and the child
would recognize me if they saw me again. And then they would remember me.
So I went towards the next station and on my way there made a plan. The safest way
was to return to Dumfries. The police might be searching for me, and I should be safer
in a big town.
When I reached the station, I bought a ticket to Dumfries. I did not have long to wait
until a train came in. I got in with an old man and his dog, and the man soon went to
sleep. I borrowed his morning paper which lay beside him.
The story of the murder was on the first page. Big letters said 'MURDER IN A LONDON
FLAT'.
The milkman had waited for me for half an hour. Then he had called the police. They
had got into my flat and found Scudder's body. The milkman had been arrested and
taken to prison! I felt very sorry for the poor man.
The story was continued on the back page. And the latest news was that the milkman
had been released. The  police were now looking for a man named Richard Hannay!
They thought that he had escaped by train and gone to Scotland.
I was glad that the milkman had been released. He knew nothing about the murder,
and I had only given him a sovereign. He had been arrested and sent to prison for
that!
The train stopped at a station which I recognized. It was the place where I had got out
the night before. Another train had just arrived from Dumfries, and three men had got
out of it. They were talking to the railway men and the child. I watched them
carefully. The child was pointing along the road which I had taken.
The train started again. While it was moving out of the station, I covered my face with
the newspaper. It had gone a mile perhaps when it suddenly stopped again. We were
not at a station. The train was near a bridge over a river.
This was my chance, and I changed my plan at once. I opened the door and jumped
out. It would have been a good idea if I had not forgotten the dog. When I jumped,
the dog tried to follow me. The old man woke up and rushed to the door.
'Help! help!' he cried. 
I ran down to the river bank and hid among some bushes there. The ticket-collector
and several people had come along and were standing at the open door. A man was
pointing towards the river bank.
But a lucky chance saved me. I had not noticed that the dog was tied to the man.
Suddenly the dog jumped out and pulled the old man out too. They rolled down the
bank, and everybody forgot me for a moment. The old man was rescued, but in the
excitement the dog bit somebody. I took my chance and ran away through the
bushes.
When I looked back, the excitement was over. The people were climbing into the train
again, and soon it began to move.
I walked along the river bank and thought about my problem. I was safe but I was
also afraid. I do not mean that I was afraid of the police. I was thinking about
Scudder's enemies and their plans which I knew. I felt sure that they would try to kill
me or have me sent to prison. They were a danger to me, and I could not hide my
fear. My troubles were not over yet.
I climbed away from the river until I reached the top of a hill. There were other hills
around me, and I could see clearly for several miles. There were the railway station
and one or two cottages. Dust was rising over towards the east and that meant a
road. Then I looked up into the blue sky, and my heart almost stopped beating.
A small plane was flying towards me. And I knew at once that Scudder's enemies were
in that plane. The British police never used aircraft to look for people.
I rolled behind a rock and watched the machine. It flew along the river bank in narrow
circles. It was so low that I could see the pilot. But I was sure that he did not see me.
Then it climbed and turned. It flew over the river again and went back to the south.
I decided at once to leave those hills. There was no place for me to hide. And my
enemies would soon find me if they could look down on me from the sky.
At six o'clock I reached the road. I followed it for a few miles. It was beginning to get
dark when I came to a house beside a bridge. I was surprised to see one house
standing alone in that wild country.
A young man was standing on the bridge reading.
'Good evening,' he said. 'It's a fine evening, isn't it?'
'Yes, indeed,' I replied. 'Is this house an inn?'
'Yes, sir, and I'm the inn-keeper. Would you like to stay here tonight?'
'You're a very young inn-keeper, aren't you?'
'Well, my father died last year and left me this inn. I'm living here with my mother but
I don't like the work at all. I'd rather write stories, but what can I write about? I don't
meet many interesting people.'
I suddenly got the idea that this young man could help me. 'I'll tell you a story,' I
said, 'and it's true too. I need a friend. And I'll tell you this story in order to get your
help. I'll give you permission to write it, but don't do anything before June 15th.
That's a very important date.'
Then I sat on the bridge and told him a story. He listened carefully, and his eyes were
bright with excitement.
'I'm a farmer from Rhodesia,' I said, 'and,I came to Britain a few weeks ago. I
travelled by ship from German West Africa. The Germans there thought that I was a
spy. And they followed me all the way to Britain. They've already killed my best
friend, and now they're trying to kill me. Have you read the newspaper today?'
He nodded.
'Well then, you know about the murder of Franklin Scudder.'
'He was my best friend, and he was killed in my own flat.'
I told him that Scudder had worked for the Foreign Office. And I explained that he had
known some of the Germans' secrets. It was quite a long story, and I made it very
exciting.
At the end I said, 'You're looking for adventure, aren't you? Well, you've found it now.
These German spies may come here, and I want to hide from them.'
He took my arm politely and pulled me towards the inn. 'You'll be safe here, sir,' he
said. 'You must tell me your adventures again, and I'll write them down.'
'All right. But I have some work to do first. Scudder gave me a long message in code.
And I must find out what it means.'
While we were going into the inn, I heard the plane again. It was flying low towards
the bridge.
I had a quiet room at the back of the house. The inn-keeper's mother brought me my
meals. The place suited me very well.

The next morning I took out Scudder's note-book and began to work. The code was a
difficult one, and I had to try many possible key-words. By noon I had found the
spaces between the words but I could not discover the letters.
After dinner I tried again and worked hard until three o'clock. Then suddenly I had an
idea. I was lying back in my chair when a woman's name came into my head. It was
Julia Czechenyi. Scudder had told me that she was one of his worst enemies. Perhaps
her name was the key-word. I tried it quickly on the code and it was right!
'Julia' has five letters, and Scudder had used these letters instead
of a, e, i, o and u. Jis the tenth letter in English, and so he used the number io instead
of a. The letter e was the u of 'Julia', and u is the twenty-first letter. So Scudder had
written 21 instead of e.
The name 'Czechenyi' gave me nine other numbers, and I could soon read Scudder's
notes. I sat in my room working quietly for the rest of the afternoon.
The facts in Scudder's little book were terrible. Indeed, when the woman brought my
tea, I was a very nervous man. My face looked pale, and I did not want to eat
anything.
'Are you all right, sir?' she asked. 'You look very pale.'
'Oh, it's nothing,' I said. 'Please put the things on the table.'
There was a sudden noise outside the inn, and the woman left my room. I heard a
motor-car stopping and then there were several voices.
A few minutes later the inn-keeper rushed into my room. 'Two men have just arrived,'
he said, 'and they're looking for you. They described you very well.'
'What did you tell them?'
'I told them that you had stayed here last night but had left early this morning.'
'Can you describe them?'
'One is a thin fellow with dark eyes, and the other is rather fat.'
'Do they talk like Englishmen?'
He nodded. 'Oh, yes, I think so.'
I picked up a bit of paper and wrote quickly in German:
'. . . Black Stone. Scudder had heard about this., but, he could not do anything until
June 15th. Karolides' plans are uncertain, and I may not be able to help. But if Mr. T.
advises, I will try . . .'
When I had written the message, I tore the edges of the paper. It was like a part of a
torn-up letter.
'Give this to them,' I said. 'Tell them that it was found in my room.'
Three minutes later the men drove away in the car. The inn-keeper appeared in great
excitement.
'Your paper gave them a surprise,' he said. 'The dark fellow turned pale, and the fat
one looked very ugly. They paid for their drinks and left at once.'
'Now I want you to do something for me,' I said. 'Get on your bicycle and go to the
police at Newton-Stewart. Describe the two men and talk about the London murder.
You can invent reasons. You can say that you heard a conversation between them.
One man told the other that he had just been released from prison.. And say that you
also heard Scudder's name. The hunt isn't over yet. Those two fellows will come back
tomorrow morning, and the police must be here to arrest them.'
He went off at once, and I continued my work on Scudder's notes. It was six o'clock
when he came back.
'It's all right,' he said. 'The police will be here at eight o'clock in the morning.'
We had a meal together, and I had to tell him my adventures again. He made notes
about them during the meal. I could not sleep that night. I finished Scudder's book
and then sat up in my chair until morning. I was thinking about Scudder's terrible
story.
At eight o'clock three policemen arrived at the inn. The inn-keeper met them and
showed them the garage. They left their car there and then came into the inn.
Twenty minutes later another car appeared and stopped two hundred yards from the
inn. I was watching from a window above the front-door. The car was driven under
some trees and left there. Two men got out of it and walked towards the inn.
The plan which I had made was not a very good one. I hoped that the police would
arrest the men. If they did so, I should be quite safe.
But now I had a better idea. I wrote a note to the inn-keeper and left it in my room.
Then I opened my window and dropped quietly into some bushes in the garden. I ran
across the garden and along the edge of a field. A few minutes later I reached the
trees.
I did not waste a moment. The car was standing there, and I got into it. I started the
engine and drove away.
The wind carried the sound of angry voices to my ears. But soon I was travelling along
that road at fifty miles an hour.
THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan

CHAPTER 4: SIR HARRY, THE YOUNG POLITICIAN

It was a beautiful morning. But I was not thinking about the fine weather or the views
around me. My thoughts were all of Scudder and his notes.
The little man had lied to me. He had talked a lot about Karolides, and part of it was
true. But he had not told me the important things. I did not blame Scudder for not
telling me the real secrets. Perhaps he had been afraid to tell anyone. Of course
Karolides was in danger, but the danger to all Europe was greater! That was the real
secret which Scudder had kept in his little book.
The words 'Thirty-nine steps' appeared several times among his notes. And once he
had written this: 'Thirty-nine steps. I counted them carefully. High tide there is at
seventeen minutes past ten.'
I wondered what it meant. The 'thirty-nine steps' must be at some place on the coast.
The word 'tide' proved that, but why was it important?
Scudder had written that war was certain and no one could stop it. The German plans
had been ready since February 1912. They would kill Karolides on June 14th, and his
death would be their excuse. 'The Germans will talk about peace in Europe,' he wrote,
'but they don't want peace. They're ready for war and they're going to attack us
suddenly.'
Scudder had also written about the visit of a French officer to London. He was the
chief of the French army and was coming on June i5th. 'This officer will be told the
British plans and will then return to France.'
Then Scudder had added that the Black Stone would also be in London on that day.
They would learn the plans too and would send them immediately to Germany.
I drove on through the pretty villages of Galloway. It was a beautiful part of Scotland.
But I could not enjoy the peace that was all around me.
I had to escape from my enemies and stay alive. I had to wait for a chance to help
Scudder. But it was going to be very difficult. The police and the 'Black Stone' were
hunting me, and I had no friends in Scotland.
About noon I came to a large village. I was so hungry that I decided to stop. Then I
noticed a policeman. He was standing outside the Post Office, reading a telegram.
When he saw my car, he raised his hand and ran to the middle of the road.
'Stop! stop!' he shouted.
I was suddenly suspicious and knew that the telegram was about me. Something had
happened at the inn, and perhaps the police had agreed with the spies. They had
described me and the car, and the police had sent telegrams to all the villages.
I did not stop. The policeman put out his hand and ran beside the car. He caught my
arm through the window, which was open. And I hit him so hard that he fell back.
I drove into the country again, following a narrow road. I climbed several hills above a
wide valley. I was tired and hungry and began to look for a quiet inn where I could
rest. But suddenly there was a noise above me and I looked up. The plane was a few
miles away, flying towards me.
I drove fast down a hill between trees and high bushes. A car drove out from a narrow
road at the side, and I could not stop. I pulled-the wheel hard to the right and shut
my eyes.
My car ran through the bushes and started to fall. I saw the bottom of the valley fifty
feet below. I sprang out of the car and rolled into a bush. There was a terrible noise as
the car turned over several times. Then it lay like a pile of old metal at the bottom of
the valley.
Someone took my hand and pulled me out of the bush. A kind voice said, 'Are you
hurt?'
A tall young man was standing beside me.
'I'm very sorry about this,' he said. 'I saw your car, but neither of us could stop in
time. I hope that you're all right. But you look quite pale.'
I was rather glad about the accident. The police were looking for that car, so I could
not travel far in it.
'It's my fault,,sir,' I said. 'I oughtn't to drive fast on these narrow roads. Well, that car
will never be driven again. This is the end of my Scottish holiday, but I ought to be
glad. It was almost the end of my life.'
'I'm very sorry indeed,' he said again. He looked at his watch and continued. 'There'll
be time to go to my house. You can change your clothes and have something to eat
there. Where's your case? Is it below in the car?'
'No. All my things are at an inn forty miles away.' I was wondering what to tell him
about myself. I did not want to say that I was a Rhodesian. My name had been in the
newspapers. The police knew that I had come from Rhodesia. Perhaps this man would
guess the truth if I said anything about Rhodesia. So I decided to be an Australian. I
had read a lot about Australia. I should be able to talk about that country if he asked
me any questions. And he would never discover the truth.
'I'm an Australian,' I continued, 'and I never carry a lot of clothes about with me.'
'An Australian,' he cried. 'Well, I'm the luckiest man in Scotland! You agree with Free
Trade of course.'
'I do,' I answered quickly. But I was not quite sure what he meant.
'That's fine. Free Trade is the best thing for Britain. Well now, you'll be able to help
me this evening.' He took my arm and pulled me towards his car.
Three minutes later we reached the house. He took out three or four of his suits and
laid them on the bed. I also borrowed one of his shirts. I chose a dark blue suit and
put it on. Then he took me to the kitchen.
There was part of a meal on the table. 'If we don't hurry, we'll be late,' he said. 'Eat
something now and take some food in your pocket. When we get back tonight, we'll
have a good meal. We have to be in Brattleburn by seven o'clock.'
I had a cup of coffee and some cold meat. The young man stood by the fire and
talked.
'You've come just at the right time, Mr.-. Oh, excuse me. You haven't told me your
name.'
'Twisdon,' I said.
'Ah, Twisdon. Well, I'm in trouble, Mr. Twisdon, and I'd like you to help me. There's a
public meeting tonight at Brattleburn, and I have to make a speech about politics. I'm
the Liberal Candidate for this part of Galloway, and Brattleburn is my chief town. Well,
I'd got everything ready for the meeting, and Crumpleton, the old Liberal Prime
Minister, was going to make the chief speech. But I had a telegram from him this
afternoon saying that he's ill and can't come. That means that I must make the
speech myself.'
'Well, you're the candidate,' I said. 'You ought to be able to make a speech.'
'Oh, I can make a short speech all right, but ten minutes is quite long enough for me.
Now be a good fellow, Twisdon, and help me. You can tell the meeting all about Free
Trade and Australia.'
I did not know anything about Free Trade, but I needed someone to help me too.
Perhaps this was a chance.
'All right,' I said. 'I'm not a very good speaker but I'll talk to your friends about
Australia.'
We left the house then and drove towards Brattleburn. On the way the young man
told me a few things about himself, and one of these facts was very interesting. His
father and mother were dead. He usually lived with his uncle who was the Chief
Secretary at the Foreign Office.
This was exciting news because the Chief Secretary was an important man. And I
wanted to meet him. I hoped that this young man could do something for me.
We drove through a little town where two police officers stopped the car. They shone
their lamps on our faces, and I felt very nervous. I was afraid that they were going to
arrest me.
'I'm sorry, Sir Harry,' one of the officers said. 'We're looking for a stolen car and
thought that this was it.'
'Oh, that's all right.' Sir Harry laughed. 'My car is too old for anyone to steal,' he said,
and we drove on.
It was five minutes to seven when we reached Brattleburn. Sir Harry stopped the car
outside the town hall, and we went in. There were about five hundred people in the
hall.
A gentleman stood up and made a short speech. He explained that Mr. Crumpleton
was ill and could not come. 'But we're very lucky in Brattleburn this evening,' he
continued. 'A famous public speaker from Australia is here. But first we shall listen to
the Liberal Candidate for Brattleburn.'
Sir Harry then began his speech. He had about fifty pages of notes in his hand and he
started to read them. It was a terrible speech, and I felt very sorry for him.
Sometimes he looked up from the papers, and then he could not say anything. Once
or twice he forgot the subject of the speech but remembered a few sentences from a
book. And he repeated them like a schoolboy. His ideas were quite wrong too. He
talked about 'the German danger' and I almost laughed out loud.
'There's no German danger at all,' he said. 'The Government has invented it. The
Germans want peace, and so we don't need a big army. We're wasting public money
on guns and warships.'
I thought about Scudder's little black book! The Germans' plans for war were ready
and they were not interested in peace.
I spoke after Sir Harry and talked about Australia. I described the country's politics
and its plans and the work of the Liberal Government. The people listened very
politely and sometimes cheered. But I forgot all about Free Trade!
The speakers were thanked at the end of the meeting. Sir Harry and I got into the car
again and drove out of Brattleburn.
'That was a fine speech, Twisdon,' he said, 'and they enjoyed it. Did you hear them
cheer when you said the word "liberal"? Now we'll go home and you can have a good
meal. I want you to stay at my house tonight.'
After dinner that night we sat by the fire and talked.
'Listen, Sir Harry,' I said. 'I want to tell you something and it's very important. You're
a good fellow, so I won't hide anything from you. Your speech was all wrong.'
He looked very surprised. 'Was it?' he said. 'Do you mean about the German danger?
Do you think they'll attack us?'
'They may attack us next month,' I said. 'Now listen to this story. A few days ago a
German spy killed a friend of mine in London ...'
I can still remember the bright fire-light in Sir Harry's room. I lay back in a big chair
and told him everything. I repeated all Scudder's notes and I even remembered about
the thirty-nine steps and the tide. I described my adventures with the milkman and
the police at the inn.
Then I said, 'The police are trying to arrest me for the murder. But I can prove that I
didn't kill Scudder. The truth is that I'm afraid of these German spies. They're a lot
wiser than the police. If the police arrested me, there would be an accident. And I
should get a knife in my heart, like Scudder.'
Sir Harry was looking at me carefully. 'Are you a nervous man, Mr. Hannay?' he
asked.
I did not answer him immediately. I took down a heavy knife from the wall and did an
old Rhodesian trick for him. I threw the knife up in the air and caught it in my mouth.
'I learned to do that trick many years ago,' I said. 'But a nervous man couldn't do it.'
He smiled. 'All right, Hannay. You needn't prove it. I may not know much about
politics but I can recognize an honest man. I believe what you've said. Tell me what I
can do to help you.'
'Well, your uncle is the Chief Secretary at the Foreign Office and he'll be able to do
something. I want you to write a letter to him. Ask him if I can meet him before June
I 5th.'
'What name shall I say?'
'Twisdon. It's safer to forget the name Hannay.'
Sir Harry sat down at a table and wrote this letter.

Dear Uncle,
I have given your address to a man named Twisdon who wants to meet you. He hopes
to see you before June I 5th. Be kind to him, please, and believe his story.
When he comes, he'll say the words 'Black Stone'. And he'll sing a few lines of 'Annie
Laurie'.

'Well, that looks all right,' Sir Harry said. 'My uncle's name is Sir Walter Bullivant, and
his cottage is near Artinswell on the River Kennet. Now, what's the next thing?'
'Can you give me an old suit of clothes?' I said. 'And show me a map of Galloway. The
police may come here to look for me, and you can show them the car in the valley.
But don't tell them anything.'
'And if the spies come, what shall I say to them?'
'Say that I've gone to London.'
Sir Harry brought the clothes and a map of Galloway. I looked at the map carefully
and noticed the railway to the south.
'That's the wildest part of the country,' Sir Harry said, pointing at the map. 'Go up the
road here and then turn to the right. You ought to be up in the hills before breakfast.
You'll be quite safe up there but you must travel south on June the 12th or 13th.'
He gave me an old bicycle and at two o'clock in the morning I left his house.
At five o'clock the sun rose, and I had travelled about twenty miles. High hills and
wide green valleys lay around me on every side.

Adapted by Roland John for Intermediate Level

THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan

CHAPTER 5: THE ROADMAN WHO WORE SPECTACLES

I rested for a time on the top of a hill. The road crossed a flat space in front of me and
then ran down into a valley. A cottage stood among the fields below, but there were
no other signs of life. I was so tired that I lay down and closed my eyes.
It was seven o'clock when a sound woke me. It was the plane again. I did not move.
It flew over the hills in narrow circles. The next minute it turned towards me, and I
could see the pilot and another man. Both men were looking at me. And I felt sure
that they had recognized me. Then the machine climbed quickly and flew away to the
east.
I had to escape from that place immediately. My enemies would return and search the
hills. They had seen my bicycle of course, so I had to throw it away.
I left the road and pushed the bicycle about fifty yards. Then I noticed a hole full of
water and threw the bicycle into it.
The day was warm and clear and I could see the road to the east and the west. There
was nothing on it. But I was certain that my enemies would soon come down that
road. So I turned across the hills to the north.
After a time I looked back across the valleys on both sides. My eyes are very good,
and I saw some men walking far apart. They were all coming towards the high
ground.
 ran forward but did not get very far. There were more men in front, searching the
next valley. 'I can't get away from here,' I thought. 'If I try to escape, they'll see me.
So I have to stay on the high ground and hide somewhere.'
I ran along the top of the hill and reached the road again. I turned a corner of the
road and there I found the roadman.
His tools lay beside him and he was getting ready for work. But he was moving very
slowly.
He looked up as I came near. 'This is a terrible job,' he said, 'and I can't do it today.
I'm too ill to work, and that's the truth.'
He was a wild figure and he wore a pair of large spectacles. His eyes looked very red.
'What's the matter?' I asked, but I knew the answer. 'You do this job every day, don't
you? Why can't you do it today?'
'I do,' he replied, 'but my daughter doesn't come home from London every day. She
came home yesterday, and we had a party last night.' He took off his spectacles and
then continued. 'I got very drunk last night and my head feels very bad.'
'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Bed is clearly the best place for you.'
'Ah, but it's not easy. I got a postcard yesterday. The new Road Surveyor is coming to
see this work today. If I go home to bed, he won't find me here. And then I'll lose my
job.'
Suddenly I had a wonderful idea. 'Listen,' I said. 'I may be able to help you. If you still
feel too drunk to work, you'll have to go to bed. Does the new Surveyor know you
very well?'
'No. I've never met him before but I've heard about him. He travels about in a little
motor-car.'
'Where's your house?' I asked.
He pointed to the cottage down among the fields.
'Good. You go back to bed then and sleep in peace. I'll do your job for today. If the
Surveyor doesn't know you, he won't know me either.'
He looked at me and laughed then. 'Well, you're a very nice fellow. It'll be quite easy
too and you needn't do a lot of work.'
He pointed to a pile of stones and a hammer. 'I broke up those stones yesterday,' he
said, 'and you needn't do any more of that. Take the barrow and go down the road.
Keep on until you come to a pile of rocks. Bring them up here in the barrow. My name
is Alexander Turnbull but my friends call me Specky. That's because I wear these
glasses. When the Surveyor comes, you'll have to talk politely. And call him "Sir". He'll
be quite happy then.'
'The Surveyor may know that you wear spectacles,' I said. 'Let me borrow them for
today.'
He laughed again. 'Well, well, this is a fine trick.' He gave me his glasses and his dirty
old hat.
I took off my coat and gave it to him. 'Take this home with you,' I said, 'and keep it
for me.'
Then he left me.
Ten minutes later I was like a roadman myself. I had rubbed dust on my trousers and
shoes. Turnbull's trousers were tied below the knee, and I had tied mine in the same
way. Those German spies would notice everything, and I was afraid of my hands.
They looked clean and rather soft, so I rubbed dirt on them.
Turnbull had left his food and an old newspaper beside the road. It was eight o'clock
now, and I was feeling quite hungry. So I stole some of his bread and cheese and had
a quick meal.
Then I began my new job and pushed the barrow up and down the road. While I was
working, I remembered an old friend in Rhodesia. He was a policeman when I knew
him. But he had done many strange things in his life. He had often been in danger and
knew the value of a good disguise. He used to say, 'But a disguise alone isn't enough,
Hannay. You must try to be another person and you must believe it yourself. If you
can't do that, your disguise will soon fail.'
So now I believed that I was the roadman. And I thought about my life and my job. I
lived in the little cottage in the valley. My daughter had come home the day before
and we had had a party. I had got drunk and was still feeling sick. But the Surveyor
wanted to see me today, and I had to wait for him.
I worked for an hour or more and got quite dirty. It was a very dusty job. Suddenly a
voice spoke from the road and I looked up. A small motor-car had stopped and a
young man was talking to me.
'Are you Alexander Turnbull?' he asked. 'I'm the new Road Surveyor, and my office is
in the town hall at Newton-Stewart. The road looks all right here, Turnbull. There's a
soft part about a mile away, and you must clean the edges. I'll be around here again
next week. Good morning.'
He drove away, and I felt very glad. My disguise had been quite good enough for him.
About eleven o'clock a farmer drove some sheep down the road. When he saw me, he
stopped.
'What's happened to Specky?' he asked.
'He's ill,' I replied. 'I'm doing his job for a few days.'
About noon a big car came down the road. It went past me and stopped a hundred
yards away. Three men got out of the car and walked slowly back towards me.
I had seen two of them before. They were the men who had visited the Galloway inn.
One of them was thin and dark and the other was rather fat. But I did not know the
third man who was older than the others.
'Good morning,' the third man said. 'You have a fine easy job here.'
I did not answer at once. I put down the handles of the barrow and stood up slowly.
They were looking at me carefully, and their eyes missed nothing.
'There are worse jobs than this,' I said, 'but there may be better ones too. I'd rather
have yours and sit all day in that big car.'
The man who had spoken was looking at Turnbull's newspaper.
'Do you get the papers every day?' he asked.
'Yes, I get them but they're three or four days late.'
He picked up the paper and looked at the date on it. Then he put it down again. The
thin fellow was looking at my shoes and spoke a few words in German.
Then the older man said, 'You have a fine pair of shoes. Did you buy them here?'
'I did not,' I said. 'These shoes came from London. I got them from the gentleman
who was hunting here last year. Now what was his name?' And I rubbed my ear so as
to remember the name.
The fat man now spoke in German. 'Let's go,' he said. 'This fellow is all right.'
They asked me one more question. 'Did anyone go past here early this morning?
Perhaps he was riding a bicycle.'
I thought about this question for a moment. Then I said, 'Well, I was a bit late this
morning. My daughter came home from London yesterday and we had a party last
night. I opened the door about seven o'clock, and there was nobody on the road then.'
The three men said good-bye to me and went back to their car. Three minutes later
they drove away.
I felt very glad that they had gone. But I continued to work. This was wise too
because the car soon returned. The three men looked at me again as they went past.
I finished Turnbull's bread and cheese and by five o'clock I had finished the work. But
I was'not sure about the next step. I felt certain that my enemies were still around the
place. If I walked away, they would stop me. But I had to get away from them.
I decided to go down to Turnbull's cottage. I would take his things back to him and
get my coat. I would stay there until it was dark. And then I hoped to escape across
the hills.
But suddenly another car came down the road and stopped. There was one man in it
and he called to me.
'Have you got any matches?'
I looked at him and recognized him at once. This was a very lucky chance. His name
was Marmaduke Jopley, and I had met him once or twice in London. I hated the
fellow. He was a friend of rich young men and old ladies who often invited him to their
homes. Well, Jopley was such a weak fellow that he could not hurt me. And I decided
to act quickly.
'Hullo, Jopley,' I said. 'I'm surprised to see you here.'
His face grew pale. 'Who are you?' he asked in a nervous voice.
'Hannay,' I said. 'From Rhodesia. Don't you remember me?'
'Hannay the murderer!' he cried.
'That's right. Now listen to me. If you don't obey me quickly, I'll be Jopley's murderer
too. Give me your coat and cap.'
He was so afraid that he obeyed immediately. I put on his new coat over my dusty
clothes and put his cap on my head. Then I gave him Turnbull's spectacles and dirty
old hat.
'Wear them for a few minutes,' I said. 'They're a very good disguise.'
I was wondering which way to go. Jopley had come from the east, and I decided to go
back that way. If my enemies were watching the road, they would recognize the car.
But I did not think that they would stop it. So I turned the car and drove away.
'Now, Jopley,' I said, 'if you're a good fellow, I won't hurt you. But don't try any tricks
and don't talk. Remember that I'm a murderer. If you cause any trouble, I'll kill you.'
We drove eight miles along the valley. Several men were standing on the corners as
we drove past. They looked carefully at the car but did not try to stop us. About seven
o'clock I turned into a narrow road and drove up into the hills.
The villages and cottages were soon behind us. At last I stopped the car at a quiet
place and turned it for Jopley. I gave him his coat and cap and took back Turnbull's
spectacles and the old hat.
'Thank you,' I said. 'Now you can go and find the police.'
He drove away. I watched the red light of his car as it disappeared in the distance.
Adapted by Roland John for Intermediate Level
THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan

CHAPTER 6: THE STRANGE HOUSE ON THE MOOR

It was a cold night and I was very hungry. Turnbull still had my coat, and my watch
and Scudder's note-book were in a pocket of it. My money was in my trousers' pocket.
I lay down in some long grass but could not sleep. 
I thought about all the people who had helped me. And I decided that I had been a
very lucky man.
Food was my chief problem. I closed my eyes and saw thick pieces of meat on a white
plate. I remembered all the meals that I had eaten in London. I used to refuse
fruitafter dinner! Now I would give five pounds for an apple.
Towards morning I slept a little but woke again about six o'clock. I sat up and looked
down into the valley. I lay back immediately in great surprise.
Men were searching the long grass below and they were only a quarter of a mile
away.
I crawled a few yards and hid behind a rock. There I noticed a crack that ran to the
top of the hill. I crawled into this crack and began to climb. When I reached the top, I
raised my head again. My enemies were still searching the long grass.
I rolled over the hill-top to the other side. No one could see me there, so I ran for half
a mile. Then I climbed to the top again and stood up straight. The men saw me at
once and moved towards me. I ran back over the hill-top and returned to my first
place. My enemies were now going the wrong way, and I felt safer.
My best plan was to go to the north, and I chose my path carefully. Soon a wide valley
lay between me and my enemies. But when they discovered their mistake, they
turned back quickly. I saw them suddenly above the hill-top, and they began to shout
at me. I noticed then that they were not my real enemies. Two of them were
policemen.
Jopley has reported me,' I thought, 'and now they're looking for the murderer.'
Two men ran down and began to climb my side of the valley. The policemen ran
across the hill-tops to the north. I felt afraid now because these men knew the
country. I had strong legs and plenty of breath but did not know the best paths.
I left my hill-top and ran down towards a river. A road ran beside the river, and I
noticed a gate at the side of the road. I jumped over the gate and ran across a field.
The path led through a group of trees where I stopped and looked back. The police
were half a mile behind me.
I crossed a low wall beyond the trees and stood in a farmyard. The farmhouse was
about fifty yards away.
There was a glass building at the side of the house, and an old gentleman was sitting
at a desk inside. He looked at me as I walked towards the building.
The room was full of books and cases which contained old stone tools and broken
pots. I saw several boxes of old coins. Books and papers covered the old gentleman's
desk.
He was a, kind old man with a round face and a bald head. And he was wearing a pair
of large spectacles. When I went in, he did not move or speak.
I could not say a word either. I looked at him and noticed his eyes. They were small
and bright and very clear. His bald head was shining like a glass bottle.
Then he said slowly, 'You are in a hurry, my friend.'
I pointed across the farmyard and the field. Some figures were climbing over the gate
beside the road.
'Ah, they're policemen,' he said, 'and you're running away from them. Well, we can
talk about it later. I don't want the police to come in here. If you go into the next
room, you'll see two doors. Go through the doorway on the left side and shut it behind
you. You'll be quite safe in there.'
Then he picked up a pen and went on with his work.
I obeyed him at once. I went into the next room and through the left-hand doorway.
It was very dark inside, and there was only one window which was high up in the wall.
I was safe from the police in that room but I was not very happy. Indeed, I felt
suspicious. Everything was so easy that I began to wonder. 'Why did that old fellow
help me?' I asked myself. 'I've never seen him before, and he didn't ask me any
questions.'
While I was waiting, I thought about food again. I made plans for my breakfast., and
it was very exciting. I would have bacon and eggs. The old man could not refuse to
give me that. I could eat a pound of bacon and a dozen eggs. I was thinking about
this meal when the door opened.
A man who was standing outside made a sign to me. And I followed him to the old
gentleman's room.
'Have the police gone?' I asked.
'Yes. They asked me if you had come here. But I didn't tell them anything important.
This is a lucky morning for you, Mr. Richard Hannay.'
He spoke quietly and seemed very young now. I was watching him all the time. He
closed his eyes but they were only half shut, like a bird's eyes. And I suddenly
remembered what Scudder had told me. 'If you see his eyes, Hannay,' he had said,
'you'll never forget them.'
Was this man Scudder's worst enemy? And was I now in the enemy's house? I would
kill the old man if these thoughts were true.
He guessed my plan and smiled. Then his eyes moved to the door behind me. I turned
and saw two men with guns in their hands.
He knew my name but he had never seen me before. And this was my only chance.
'What are you talking about?' I asked. 'My name isn't Richard Hannay. It's Ainslie.'
'Is it? But of course you have other names. We won't quarrel about a name.' He was
still smiling at me.
I thought of another plan quickly. I had no coat and my clothes were still very dirty.
They were quite a good disguise for me, so I began to tell a story.
'Why did you save me from the police?' I asked. 'I didn't want to steal that money. It
has caused me so much trouble that you can have it.' And I took four sovereigns from
my pocket and threw them on the old man's desk.
'Take it,' I said, 'and let me go.'
'Oh, no, Mr. Hannay, I won't let you go. You know too much for me to allow that.
You're acting very well but you can't deceive me.'
I wondered if he was sure about me. For a moment I saw a little doubt in his eyes.
'I don't want to deceive you,' I said. 'Why don't you believe me? I stole that money
because I was hungry. The two men left the car and went away after the accident. I
climbed down the bank and found the money on the floor of the car. The police have
been hunting me since then, and I'm very tired.'
The old man was clearly in doubt now. He was still suspicious of me, but we had never
met before. And that made him careful.
'Tell me your adventures,' he said. 'What happened to you yesterday?'
'I can't. I haven't eaten anything for two days. Give me a meal first, and then I'll tell
you everything.'
He made a sign to one of the men who brought me some cold bacon and a glass of
milk. Suddenly, while I was eating, the old man spoke to me in German. It was a trick
of course, so I did not look up or answer him.
When I had finished, I began my story again. I had come from Leith and was going to
visit my brother in Wigtown. I was not travelling by train because I had only a little
money. On my way I saw an accident. A car ran off the road and fell into a little
valley.
A man had jumped out of the car before it fell. And then another man appeared. They
talked for a few moments and then went away together. I went down to the car. It
was completely destroyed, but I found the four sovereigns on the floor. I put the
money in my pocket and ran away.
I went into a shop in the nearest village and tried to buy some food. I offered a
sovereign to the shop-keeper. She was suspicious and called the police. I escaped, but
the policeman tore my coat completely off.
'Well,' I cried , 'they can have the money back. A poor man hasn't got a chance.'
'That's a good story, Hannay,' the old man said. 'But I don't believe it.' Then he sat
back in his chair and began to rub his right ear.
'It's the truth,' I shouted. 'My name is Ainslie, not Hannay. Those policemen knew me
and were shouting my name from the hill-top.'
I looked at the bright eyes and the bald head in front of me. I knew that his doubts
were growing. He had never seen my face. It was different from my photographs. And
my clothes were very old and dirty.
'You'll have to stay here,' he said at last. 'If you aren't Richard Hannay, you'll be quite
safe. But if you are Hannay, I'll kill you myself. I'll soon discover the truth.'
He rang a bell and another man came in.
'Bring the car,' he said. 'There'll be three for dinner.'
He looked at me carefully again, and there was something quite terrible in his eyes.
They were cold and cruel, like the bright eyes of a snake. I could not look away from
them. They made me weak, like a child, and I wanted to crawl to him. He was
Scudder's worst enemy. But I would have served him if he had asked me!
He was rubbing his right ear again. Then he spoke in German to one of the men. And
when I heard his words, my strange thoughts left me.
'Karl, put this fellow in the store-room and don't let him escape. Remember that.,' he
said.
The store-room was very dark, but the two men did not come inside with me. They
sat down outside where I could hear them talking. I felt around the walls of the room
and touched several boxes and barrels. Then I sat down on one of the boxes to think
about my difficulties.
The old man and his friends would soon return and recognize me. They would
remember the roadman because I was still wearing Turnbull's clothes. I could guess
their questions: why were the police looking for a roadman? Why was he found twenty
miles away from his job? They would remember Marmaduke Jopley too, I thought,
and probably Sir Harry. I could not continue to deceive these foreign enemies and I
would be alone with them here. My chances of escape were not very great.
Suddenly I grew angry and hated these German spies in Britain. I would not sit in this
dark place and do nothing. I had to attack them or try to escape.
I got up and walked around the room again. The boxes and barrels were too strong
for me to open, but then I reached a cupboard in the wall. It was probably locked
because I could not open it. But there was a crack in the door. I pushed my fingers
through the crack and then pulled hard. The door of the cupboard broke open.
There were some strange things inside. The first things I found were half a dozen
electric lamps. They were in good condition too, and I shone a light around the
cupboard.
There were bottles and small boxes and some dusty yellow bags. I found a box of
detonators which were complete with long fuses. I took out the detonators and fuses
and laid them carefully on the floor. At the back of the cupboard I found a strong box.
At first I thought that it was locked. But it opened quite easily, and it was full of sticks
of dynamite.
I could destroy the house with this dynamite. I had often used it in Rhodesia and I
knew its power. It could very easily destroy me too! This was clearly a chance of
escape, and it would probably be my only chance. So I decided to take it.
I found a crack in the floor near the doorway. I pushed a stick of dynamite into the
crack and fixed a detonator and fuse to it. Then I moved one of the boxes until it
stood over the crack.
I sat down near the cupboard and lit the fuse. I watched the fire as it moved along the
fuse. The two men were still talking quietly outside the door ...
Suddenly there was a terrible noise, and great heat and light rushed up from the floor.
They hung for a moment in the air, and then clouds of dust took their place. Thick
yellow smoke filled the room, and at first I could not see anything. But there was light
in the room now. A great hole had appeared in the wall, and I ran towards it. The air
outside was also full of smoke and dust, and I could hear the sound of voices.
I climbed through the hole and ran forward. I was in the farmyard at the back of the
house. About thirty yards away there was a high stone bird-house. The building had
no doors or windows but there were many little holes for the birds. And the roof
seemed flat.
If I could reach that roof, I should be safe. They would not look for me up there, I
thought.
I ran through the smoke to the back of the bird-house. Then I began to climb. It was
hard work, and I went up very slowly. But at last I reached the top and lay down
behind a low wall.
The dust and smoke had made me sick, and I felt very tired. But I was safe up there
and soon I fell asleep.
I probably slept for several hours. When I woke up, the afternoon sun was very
strong. I could hear men's voices again and the sound of a motor-car. I raised myself
a little and looked over the wall.
Four or five men were walking across the farmyard to the house. The old man was
with them and he was clearly very angry. He pointed across the fields and said
something in German to the servants. The thin dark fellow was there and the fat one
too.
I lay on the roof of the bird-house all the afternoon. I was very thirsty. There was a
little river beside the farm and I could hear the sound of water. I felt the money in my
pocket. I would have given forty pounds for a glass of water if I had had the chance!
Two men drove away in the car. A little later another man rode to the east on a horse.
The search was beginning, but they were all going the wrong way!
I sat up on the roof and looked around. At first I saw nothing specially inter esting but
then I noticed a large circle of trees. These trees were half a mile from the house, and
there was a flat green field inside the circle.
'That must be an airfield,' I thought. 'It's a wonderful place for a secret airfield.'
It would deceive anyone who did not know the place. A small plane could land there
and no one would see it. The field was completely hidden from the ground. Anybody
would think that the plane had flown over the hill. No one would guess that it had
landed among the trees.
Then I noticed a thin blue line far away to the south. It was the sea. So our enemies
had this secret airfield in Scotland, and they could watch our ships every day. The
thought made me very angry.
It made me nervous too. If the plane came back, the pilot would easily see me. But I
could do nothing until it was dark.
I lay and waited on the roof of the bird-house. About six o'clock a man came out
through the hole in the store-room. He walked slowly towards the bird-house, and I
felt quite afraid for a moment. But then we both heard the plane at the same time.
The fellow turned immediately and went back into the store-room.
The plane did not fly over the house, and I was glad about that it flew around the
trees once and then landed. Some lights shone for a moment or two, and ten minutes
later I heard voices. After that everything was quiet, and it began to grow dark.
I waited until nine o'clock perhaps. Then I climbed down from the roof and reached
the ground safely. I crawled away from the bird-house on my hands and knees.
I went first to the little river where I lay and drank the cool water. Then I began to
run. I wanted to get as far away as possible from that terrible house.

Adapted by Roland John for Intermediate Level

HE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan
CHAPTER 7: THE FISHERMAN
I was free now but I felt rather sick. I could still smell the smoke of the dynamite and
an hour later I had to rest.
It was about eleven o'clock when I reached the road safely. I wanted to go back to Mr.
Turnbull's cottage. My coat was there, with Scudder's note-book in the pocket, and I
had to have that book. My plan then was to find the railway and travel to the south.
After that I would go straight to Artinswell to meet Sir Walter Bullivant.
It was a beautiful night. I knew that Turnbull's cottage was about eighteen miles
away. It was too far for me to walk before morning. So I decided to hide during the
day and travel only at night.
When the sun rose, I was near a river. I washed in the clean cold water because I was
very dirty. My shirt and trousers were torn, and I was afraid to meet anyone in that
condition. But a little beyond the river I came to a cottage. And I was so hungry that I
had to stop there.
The man was away from the house, and at first his wife was suspicious of me. She
picked up an axe and seemed quite ready to attack me.
'I've had a bad fall in the hills,' I said, 'and I'm feeling ill. Will you help me?'
She did not ask any questions but invited me into the house. She gave me a glass of
milk and some bread and cheese. Then I sat by the fire in her kitchen and we talked. I
offered her a sovereign for her trouble, but she refused it at first.
'If it isn't your money, I don't want it,' she said.
I grew quite angry. 'But it i's my money. Do you think that I have stolen it?'
She accepted it then and unlocked a cupboard in the wall. She took out and gave me
a warm Scottish plaid and one of her husband's hats. When I left her cottage, I was
like a real Scotsman!
I walked for two or three hours. Then the weather changed and it began to rain. But I
kept warm and dry under the plaid. A little later I came to a large rock which hung
over some low ground. The grass under the rock was quite dry. So I lay down and
slept there all day.
When I woke up, it was almost dark. The weather was still wet and cold, and I was
uncertain about the way. Twice I took the wrong path and probably walked twenty
miles. But at six o'clock in the morning I reached Mr. Turnbull's cottage.
Mr. Turnbull opened the door himself, but he did not recognize me. 'Who are you?' he
asked. 'Why do you come here on a Sunday morning? I'm just getting ready to go to
church.'
I had forgotten the days of the week. Every day had seemed the same to me. I felt so
ill that I could not answer him. But then he recognized me.
'Have you got my glasses?' he asked.
I took them out of my pocket and gave them to him.
'Of course you've come back for your coat,' he said. 'Come in, man. You look very ill.
Wait. I'll get you a chair.'
When I was in Rhodesia, I had often had malaria. And it was still in my body. I knew
the signs of it very well. Now the rain and the cold had brought it back again. But
soon Mr. Turnbull was taking off my clothes and leading me to the bed.
I stayed with him for ten days, and he looked after me very well. The malaria lasted
about six days. Then my body grew cool again and I got up.
He went out to work every morning and returned in the evening. I used to rest all
day. He had a cow which gave us milk. And there was always some food in the house.
One evening I said, 'There's a small airfield about fifteen miles away. Have you ever
seen it? A little plane lands there sometimes. Do you know who owns the place?'
'I don't know,' he said. 'I've seen the plane, of course, but I don't know anything
about it.'
He brought me several newspapers while I was staying with him. And I read them
with interest. But I saw nothing about the murder in London.
Turnbull did not ask me any questions, not even my name. I was surprised about this,
and one day I said, 'Has anyone asked you about me?'
'There was a man in a motor-car,' he said. 'He stopped one day and asked me about
the other roadman. That was you of course. He seemed such a strange fellow that I
didn't tell him anything.'
When I left the cottage, I gave Turnbull five pounds. He did not want to take the
money at all. His face grew red, and he was quite rude to me. But at last he took it
and said, 'I don't want money. When I was ill, you helped me. Now you've been ill,
and I've helped you. It isn't worth a lot of money.'
The weather was beautiful that morning, but I was beginning to feel nervous. It was
the 12th of June, and I had to finish Scudder's business before the 15th.
I had dinner at a quiet inn in Moffat and then went to the railway station. It was seven
o'clock in the evening.
'What time does the train go to London?' I asked.
'Ten minutes to twelve,' the railway man said.
It was a long time to wait, so I left the station. I found a quiet place near a hill-top
and lay down there to sleep. I was so tired that I slept until twenty minutes to twelve.
Then I ran down to the station where the train was waiting.
I decided not to go to London. I got out of the train at Crewe and waited there for two
hours. The next train took me to Birmingham, and I reached Reading at six o'clock in
the evening. Two hours later I was looking for Sir Walter Bullivant's cottage at
Artinswell.
The River Kennet flowed beside the road. The English air was sweet and warm, quite
different from Scottish air. I stood for a few minutes on a bridge which crossed the
river. And I began to sing 'Annie Laurie' in a low voice.
A fisherman came up from the bank of the river. As he walked towards me, he began
to sing 'Annie Laurie' also.
The fisherman was a great big fellow. He was wearing an old pair of grey trousers and
a large hat. He looked at me and smiled. And I thought that he had a wise and honest
face. Then he looked down with me at the water.
'It's clean and clear, isn't it?' he said. 'The Kennet's a fine river. Look at that big fish
down there. But the sun has gone now. If you tried all night, you wouldn't catch him.'
'Where?' I said. 'I can't see him.'
'Look. Down there. A yard from those water plants.'
'Oh, yes. I can see him now. He's like a big black stone, isn't he?'
'Ah,' he said, and sang a few more words of 'Annie Laurie'.
He was still looking down at the water as he said, 'Your name is Twisdon, I believe.'
'No,' I said. Then I suddenly remembered my other names and added quickly, 'Oh,
yes, that's right.'
He laughed. 'A good spy always knows his own name,' he said.
Some men were crossing the bridge behind us, and Sir Walter raised his voice.
'No, I won't,' he said. 'You're strong enough to work, aren't you? You can get a meal
from my kitchen, but I won't give you a penny.'
The men went past, and the fisherman moved away from me. He pointed to a white
gate a hundred yards away and said, 'That's my house. Wait here for five minutes and
then go around to the back door.'
When I reached his cottage, the back door was open. Sir Walter's butler was waiting
to welcome me.
'Come this way, sir,' he said, and he led me up the stairs. He took me into one of the
bedrooms. There was a complete set of clothes on the bed. I noticed a dinner-suit and
a clean white shirt. But there were other clothes too and several pairs of shoes.
'I hope that these things will fit you, sir,' the butler said. 'Your bath is ready in the
next room. I'll ring the bell for dinner at nine o'clock, sir.'
When he had gone out, I sat down. I thought that I was dreaming. At this time the
day before I had been asleep on a Scottish hill-top. Now I was in this
wonderful house, and Sir Walter did not even know my name.
I had a bath and then put on the white shirt and the dinner-suit. Everything fitted me
very well. The bell rang for dinner, and I went down to meet Sir Walter.
'You're very kind, sir,' I said, 'but I must tell you the truth. I haven't done anything
wrong, but the police are looking for me at this moment.'
He smiled. 'That's all right. We can talk about these things after dinner. I'm glad that
you got here safely.'
I enjoyed that meal, and the wine was good too. Sir Walter was an interesting man
who had travelled in many foreign countries. I talked about Rhodesia and the fish in
the Zambezi River, and he told me some of his adventures.
After dinner we went into his library, and the butler brought us coffee. It was a very
nice room, with books and fine pictures around the walls. I decided to buy a house like
that when I had finished Scudder's work.
Sir Walter lay back in his chair.
'I've obeyed Harry's orders,' he said. 'And now I'm ready to listen, Mr. Hannay. You've
got some news, I believe.'
I was surprised to hear my real name, but I began my story. And I told him
everything. I described my meeting with Scudder and his fears about Karolides. I told
him about the murder and my adventure with the milkman.
'Where did you go then?' he asked.
'I went to Galloway. I soon discovered the secret of Scudder's code and then I could
read his notes.'
'Have you still got them?'
'Yes.'
Then I described my meeting with Sir Harry and how I had helped him at Brattleburn.
Sir Walter laughed. 'Harry can't make a speech,' he said. 'He's a very good fellow but
his ideas are all wrong. Go on with your story, Mr. Hannay.'
I told him about Turnbull then and my job as a roadman.
He was very interested in that.
'Can you describe those fellows in the car?' he asked.
'Well, one of them was thin and dark. I had seen him before at the inn with the fat
one. But I didn't know the third man who was older than the others.'
'And what happened after that?'
'I met Marmaduke Jopley next, and had a bit of fun with him.' Sir Walter laughed
again when I described that part of the story. But he did not laugh at the bald old man
in the farmhouse.
'How did you escape from the place?' he asked.
'I found dynamite, fuses and detonators in a cupboard,' I replied, 'and I almost
destroyed the building. There's a small airfield there where the plane lands. After that
I was ill for a week with malaria. It would have been worse if I hadn't had the thick
plaid. And Turnbull looked after me very well. Then I travelled south by train, and
here I am.'
Sir Walter stood up slowly and looked down at me.
'You needn't be afraid of the police, Hannay,' he said. 'They aren't looking for you
now,'
I was surprised to hear this.
'Why?' I cried. 'Have they found the murderer?'
'No, not yet. But the police know that you didn't kill Scudder.'
'How do they know that?'
'Because I received a letter from Scudder. He had done several jobs for me, and I
knew him quite well. He was a good spy with only one fault.'
'What was that?'
'He always wanted to work alone, and he failed for that reason. The best spies always
work with other spies, but Scudder couldn't do that. I was very sorry about it because
he was a fine fellow and a very brave man. I had a letter from him on May 31st.'
'But he was dead then. He was murdered on May 23rd, wasn't he?'
'Yes, and he wrote the letter on the 23rd. He was always trying to deceive his
enemies. So he sent the letter first to Spain, and then it came back to England.'
'What did he write about?'
'He told me that Britain was in great danger. He also said that he was staying with a
good friend. And I believe that the "good friend" was you, Hannay. He promised to
 write again soon.'
'What did you do then?'
'I went to the police immediately. They had discovered your name and we sent a
telegram to Rhodesia. The answer was all right, so we were not suspicious about you.
I guessed why you had left London. You wanted to continue Scudder's work, didn't
you? Then I got Harry's letter and I guessed that Twisdon was Richard Hannay.'
I was very glad to hear all this. My country's enemies were my enemies, but the police
were now my friends. And I was a free man again!
The big fisherman sat down and smiled at me.
'Show me Scudder's notes,' he said.
I took out the little book and began to explain the code to him. He was very quick and
he knew what the names meant. We worked hard for an hour or more.
'Scudder was right about one thing,' he said. 'A French officer is coming to London on
June 15th, and that's the day after tomorrow. I thought that it was all secret. Of
course we know that there are a few German spies in England. We've got some of our
fellows in Germany too. But how did they all discover the secret of this Frenchman's
visit? I don't believe Scudder's story about war and the Black Stone. He used to have
some strange ideas.'
Sir Walter stood up again and walked about the room. 'The Black Stone,' he
repeated.'Der Schwarzestein. It's like something out of a cheap story, isn't it? I don't
believe the part about Karolides either. He's an important man, I know, but nobody
wants to kill him. There may be some danger which Scudder had heard about. But it
isn't very important. It's the usual spy business which the Germans enjoy very much.
Sometimes they kill a man, as they killed Scudder. And the German Government pays
them for it.'
The butler came into the room.
'It's the telephone, sir,' he said. 'Your office in London. Mr. Heath wants to speak to
you.'
Sir Walter left the library. When he returned a few minutes later, he looked quite pale.
'Scudder was right,' he said, 'and I was wrong. Karolides is dead. He was shot about
three hours ago.'

Adapted by Roland John for Intermediate Level

 
THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan

CHAPTER 8: THE COMING OF THE BLACK STONE

In the morning the butler took away the dinner-suit and brought me some other
clothes. 
I went down to breakfast and found Sir Walter at the table. There was a telegram in
his hand.
'I've been busy during the night,' he said. 'I spoke to the Foreign Secretary and to the
Secretary for War. They telephoned to the First Lord of the Admiralty, and they're
bringing the Frenchman to London today instead of tomorrow. His name's Royer, and
he'll be here at five o'clock this evening. This telegram is from the First Lord of the
Admiralty.'
He pointed to the hot food on the table, and I began to eat. It was a very good
breakfast.
'I don't think that this change is going to help us,' he continued. 'Our enemies found
out the first date, so they'll probably find out the new one too. There must be a
German spy in the Foreign Office or in the War Office. Only five men knew that Royer
was coming. We believed so, but someone told Scudder and the Germans.'
'Can't you change your plans for war?' I asked.
'We can but we don't want to. We've thought a lot about these plans and they're the
best possible ones.'
'But if it's necessary, you will change them.'
'Perhaps. It's a difficult problem, Hannay. Our enemies aren't children. They're not
going to steal any papers from Royer. They want to know our plans, but they want to
get them in secret. Then Royer will go back to France and say, "Here are the British
plans for war, and they're completely secret. The Germans don't know anything about
them."
'Then you must give the Frenchman a special guard,' I said, 'who will stay by his side
all the time.'
'Royer is having dinner with the Foreign Secretary tonight. Then he's coming to my
house where he'll meet four people. They are Sir Arthur Drew, General Winstanley,
Mr. Whittaker and me. The First Lord hasn't been well for a few days, so Whittaker is
coming instead. And he's bringing the plans from the First Lord's office at the
Admiralty. We'll deliver them to Royer who will then leave for Portsmouth. A warship
is waiting there to take him to France. He'll have a special guard all the time.'
After breakfast we left for London by car.
Sir Walter said!, 'I'm taking you to Scotland Yard, Hannay. I want you to meet the
Commissioner of Police.'
It was half past eleven when we reached Scotland Yard. We walked into the great dark
building, and I met the Commissioner. His name was MacGillivray.
'I've brought you the murderer,' Sir Walter said.
The officer smiled. 'I'd be very happy if you had brought the real murderer, Bullivant.
Good morning, Mr. Hannay. You must be a very interesting man.'
'And he's going to tell you some interesting things,' Sir Walter said, 'but not today.
You have to wait for twenty-four hours, I'm afraid. Mr. Hannay is a free man now,
isn't he?'
'Yes, of course,' the Commissioner said. Then he turned to me. 'Do you want to go
back to your old flat? It's ready for you, but perhaps you'd like to move.'
I was thinking about Scudder and could not reply.
'Well,' Sir Walter said, 'I must go now. Perhaps we'll need some of your men,
MacGillivray, tonight or tomorrow. There may be some trouble.'
As we were leaving, Sir Walter took my hand.
'You're all right now, Hannay,' he said. 'You'll be quite safe in London. Come and see
me tomorrow. But don't talk about these spies, will you? It's best to stay in your flat
today.' He laughed suddenly. 'If these Black Stone people see you, they'll kill you.'
When Sir Walter had gone, I felt quite alone. I was a free man, and everything was all
right. But I was very nervous. I went to the Savoy Hotel and ordered a fine meal. But
I did not enjoy it. People were looking at me, and I thought, 'Do they recognize me?
Have they seen my photograph in the newspapers?' I soon left the hotel.
In the afternoon I got a taxi and rode several miles to North London. I paid the taxi-
man and then began to walk back. I walked for several hours and at last came to the
centre of London again. I was feeling very unhappy.
It was six o'clock, and great things were happening in London. Royer had already
arrived. Sir Walter was busy at the Foreign Office or making plans for the meeting.
The Black Stone spies were watching and waiting quietly. But what was I doing? I was
walking about the centre of London.
Suddenly a strange thought came into my head. I believed that there was great
danger in London that day. And it was such a danger that only I could fight against.
But what could I do? Sir Walter did not need me. I could not walk into a meeting of
important officers and Ministers. I could look for the German spies of course. And if I
found them, I would fight them. I was quite sure of one thing: my country needed me
in this trouble. If I did not destroy their plans, the German spies would win.
'But is that true, Hannay?' I said to my-self. 'Can't Sir Walter and his friends easily
look after Britain? Doesn't the First Lord of the Admiralty know his business better
than you do? Can a few. German spies do anything against all this power?'
I was not sure. There was a little voice in my ear which repeated the same words: 'Do
something, Hannay. Get up and do something now, or you'll never sleep well again.'
At half past nine I was walking along Jermyn Street. And I decided what to do. I would
go'to Sir Walter's house. I knew the address and I could easily find it. He did not want
to see me, but I had to do something.
I came to Duke Street and walked past a group of young men. They were wearing
dinner-suits and had just come from a hotel. One of the young men was Mr.
Marmaduke Jopley.
He saw me and recognized me at once.
'Look!' he cried. 'It's the murderer! Hold him! Hold him! That's Hannay the murderer!'
Jopley caught my arm, and the others rushed to help him. A policeman ran across the
street. I hit Jopley hard with my left hand and saw him fall. But then the crowd held
me and I could not move.
'What's the matter here?' the policeman said. 
That's Hannay the murderer,' Jopley shouted.
Oh, be quiet,' I said. 'I'm not a murderer. Listen, officer. Take my advice and don't
arrest me. The Commissioner knows all about me. I was at Scotland Yard this
morning.'
'Now young man, come along with me,' the policeman said. 'I saw you begin this
quarrel.' He pointed at Jopley who was still on the ground. 'That gentleman didn't do
anything to you, but I saw you hit him. Now come along quietly to the police station.'
I felt very angry indeed. I heard the little voice in my ear again. 'You must escape,' it
said. 'Don't waste a minute here.'
Suddenly I felt as strong as an elephant. I turned quickly and threw the policeman to
the ground. I pushed the other men away and ran along Duke Street.
I can run very fast when I want to. And that evening I almost flew. In a few minutes I
reached Pall Mall and turned towards St. James's Park. I ran between the taxis in the
Mall and crossed the bridge. There were very few people in the park and no one
stopped me. Sir Walter's house was at Queen Anne's Gate and there I began to walk.
Three or four motor-cars were standing in the street outside the house. I walked up to
the door and rang the bell.
The butler opened the door at once. I could hear cries in the distance, but the street
was empty.
'I must see Sir Walter,' I said. 'My business is very important.'
'Come in, sir,' he said. 'I'm afraid you can't see him immediately. But you can wait in
the hall until the meeting is over.'
It was an old house with a large square hall. Doors led into several rooms on each
side. A guard who was dressed in plain clothes stood outside one of the doors. I sat
down in a corner near the telephone.
I made a sign to the butler. 'I'm in trouble again,' I said. 'But I'm working for Sir
Walter, and he knows all about it. The police and a crowd of people are following me
and may come here. Please don't tell them that I'm here. And don't let them come in.'
'All right, sir,' he replied.
A minute or two later I heard voices outside. The door-bell rang and the butler went to
answer it. Someone spoke to him from outside, and he suddenly stood up very
straight.
'I am sorry,' he said. 'This is Sir Walter Bullivant's house, and Sir Walter is Chief
Secretary at the Foreign Office. I'm afraid that I don't know anything about a
murderer. Now please go away, or I shall call the police myself.'
Then he shut the door and walked back through the hall.
Two minutes later the bell rang again, and a gentleman came in. While he was taking
off his coat, I saw his face. It was a famous face, and I had often seen his photograph
in the newspapers. The gentleman was Lord Alloa, the First Lord of the Admiralty. He
was a big man with a large nose and bright blue eyes.
He walked past me, and the guard opened the door of the room for him.
I waited in the hall for twenty minutes. And during this time the little voice was still
speaking in my ear. 'Don't go away,' it said. 'You'll soon be needed.' A little bell rang
at the back of the house. And the butler immediately came into the hall. The First Lord
left the meeting-room, and the butler gave him his coat. I looked at the gentleman for
 a moment, and he looked straight at me. It all happened very quickly. My heart
jumped suddenly because I noticed a light in his eyes. I had never met the First Lord
before, and he had never met me. But there was no doubt at all about that sudden
light in his eyes. It meant that he had recognized me. He looked away at once and
walked to the door. The butler opened it for him and closed it behind him.
I picked up the telephone-book and quickly found Lord Alloa's telephone number. I
rang and the butler answered.
'Is the First Lord at home?' I asked.
'Yes, sir,' the voice said. 'But he's not very well. He's been in bed since this afternoon.
Can I give him a message, sir?'
'No, thank you,' I said, and I put the telephone down.
I crossed the hall quickly to the meeting-room and went in without knocking.
Five surprised faces looked up from a round table. Sir Walter was there and Drew, the
War Minister. I easily recognized Sir Arthur Drew from his photographs in the papers.
I had seen General Winstanley before, and an older man who was probably Whittaker
stood next to him. The fifth man was short and fat with a dark grey moustache.
Sir Walter looked quite angry.
'This is Mr. Hannay, gentlemen,' he said. 'I've already told you something about him.
But why have you come here, Hannay? You know that we're very busy.'
'Your enemies are busy too, sir,' I said. 'And one of them has just left this room.'
Sir Walter's face grew red as he said, 'But that was Lord Alloa.'
'It was not,' I cried. 'Lord Alloa has been in bed since this afternoon. I have just
spoken to his butler on the telephone. The gentleman who was.here recognized me.
And Lord Alloa doesn't know me.'
'Then... who... who...?' someone asked.
'The Black Stone,' I cried. I looked around the table and saw doubt and fear in five
pairs of eyes.

Adapted by Roland John for Intermediate Level

 
THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan

CHAPTER 9: THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS

'But that can't be true,' Mr. Whittaker said. 'Lord Alloa told me that he probably
wouldn't come to the meeting. But I know him very well and was not surprised to see
him here, You're quite wrong about this, Hannay.'
Sir Walter went out of the room and spoke to someone on the telephone. When he
came back, his face had turned pale.
'I've spoken to Alloa,' he said. 'He got out of bed to come to the telephone. Hannay is
right. The gentleman who was here was not Lord Alloa.'
'I don't believe it,' General Winstanley said. 'Alloa was standing beside me ten minutes
ago.'
'Gentlemen,' I said, 'the Black Stone knows its business. You probably didn't look at
the man carefully. You were talking about these important plans. The fellow was like
Lord Alloa, and so you accepted him. But it was another man, and I have probably
seen him during the past month.'
Then the Frenchman spoke. 'This young man is right,' he said slowly and in good
English. 'Our enemies know their business very well. Listen and I'll tell you a true
story. It happened many years ago when I was in Senegal. I was living at a hotel but
every day I used to go fishing. The river was a few miles away and I used to ride
there on a little horse.
''Well, one day I packed my dinner as usual and hung it over the horse's neck. Then I
left for the river. When I arrived there, I tied the horse to a tree. I fished for several
hours, and I was thinking only about the fish. I didn't take any notice of the horse at
all, but I could hear her. And I could see her shape from the corner of my eye. She
was moving about a lot and crying a bit too. I spoke to her as usual, but I did not look
up from the water.
''Well, dinner-time came, so I put the fish into a bag and walked along the river bank.
I was still fishing carefully and watching the water. When I reached the tree, I threw
the bag on to the horse's back...'
The Frenchman stopped and looked around the table.
'It was the smell that I noticed first. I looked up and turned my head. My bag was
lying on a lion's back. The horse was dead and half-eaten on the ground behind him.'
'What happened next?' I asked. I recognized this as a real African story.
'I shot the lion in the head,' he said. 'But before he died he took a part of me.' And he
held up his left hand which had only two fingers on it.
'That horse had been dead for an hour,' he continued. 'And the lion was watching me
all the time. He was a brown shape near the tree. I had seen the shape and colour but
I had not looked carefully. That was my mistake, gentlemen, and we have made the
same mistake tonight.'
Sir Walter agreed.
''This Black Stone fellow,' the General said, 'is he a German spy or something? No one
could keep all these facts and figures in his head. It doesn't seem very important to
me.'
'Oh, yes, he could,' the Frenchman replied. 'A good spy can remember everything. His
eyes are like a camera. Did you notice that he didn't speak at all? He read the papers
several times but didn't say anything. You can be sure that he has all the facts now.
When I was young, I could do the same thing.'
'Well, we must change the plans,' Sir Walter said.
Mr. Whittaker looked surprised. 'Did you say that to Lord Alloa?' he asked.
'No.'
'Of course we can't decide it now. But I'm almost certain about this: if we change the
plans, we'll have to change the coast of England too!'
'And there's another problem,' Royer said. 'I've told you some of the French plans,
and that German spy heard them. Now we can't possibly change our plans. But we
can do this, gentlemen: we can catch that man and his friends before they leave the
country.'
'But how?' I cried. 'We don't know anything about them.'
'And there's the post,' Whittaker said. 'They can easily send the facts to Germany by
post. They may be on their way now. We can't possibly search the post.'
'No,' the Frenchman said. 'You don't know how a good spy works, gentlemen. He
delivers the secrets himself The Germans will pay the man who brings the plans. So
we still have a chance. The fellow must cross the sea to get to Germany, and we must
search all ships. Believe me, gentlemen. This matter is very important for both France
and Britain.'
Royer was clearly a wise man, and he had the right ideas. But where could we find
these German spies? The problem was a very difficult one.
Then suddenly I remembered Scudder's book.
'Sir Walter,' I cried, 'did you bring Scudder's note-book from the cottage? I've just
remembered something in it.'
He nodded and went to a cupboard. And a few moments later I had found the page.
'Thirty-nine steps,' I read. 'Thirty-nine steps - I counted them. High tide is at
seventeen minutes past ten.'
Whittaker was looking at me. 'What does all that mean?' he asked.
'Scudder knew these spies,' I said. 'And he knew the place where they lived. They're
probably leaving the country tomorrow. And I believe that we'll find them near the
sea. There are steps at this place, and it has a high tide at seventeen minutes past
ten.'
'But they could leave tonight,' someone said. 'They needn't wait until tomorrow.'
'I don't think so. They have their own secret way and they're not going to hurry.
They're Germans, aren't they? And Germans always like to follow a plan. Now where
can we find a book of tides?'
'Well, it's a chance,' Whittaker said, 'and it may be our only chance to catch them.'
'Isn't there a book of tides at the Admiralty? Sir Walter asked.
'Yes, of course,' Whittaker replied. 'We'd better go there immediately.'
We went out into the hall, and the butler gave their coats to the gentlemen. We got
into two of the motor-cars, but Sir Walter did not come with us.
'I'm going to Scotland Yard,' he said. 'We'll probably need some of MacGillivray's
men.'
We reached the Admiralty and followed Whittaker through several empty rooms to the
map-room. There he found a book of tides and gave it to me. I sat down at a desk
and the others stood around me.
But the job was too difficult for any of us. There were hundreds of names in the book.
And high tide was at seventeen minutes past ten in forty or fifty places.
I put down the book and began to think about the steps.
'We're looking for a place,' I said., 'which probably has several sets of steps. But the
important set has thirty-nine steps in it.'
'And the tide is important too,' Royer said. 'So that means that it's probably a small
harbour. These fellows won't try to escape in a big boat. They may have a yacht or a
fishing-boat.'
'That's quite possible,' I said. 'The place may not be a harbour at all. These spies have
been in London, and now they want to go to Germany. So they'll probably leave from
a place on the East Coast.'

I picked up a piece of paper and wrote down our ideas.

(1) The place has several sets of steps or stairs. The important set has thirty-nine
steps.
(2) High tide is at seventeen minutes past ten, and the tide may be necessary for
boats to leave.
(3) The place has a small harbour or it may be a piece of open coast.
(4) The Germans may use a yacht or a fishing-boat.

Then I guessed three things and wrote them down:

(1) The steps may not be a part of the harbour.
(2) It is a quiet place.
(3) It is on the East Coast between Cromer and Dover.

We have to look for a foreign yacht.

Sir Walter came into the room with MacGillivray behind him.
'The police are watching the harbours and railway stations,' MacGillivray said. 'But it's
not going to be easy for them. They're looking for a fat man, a thin man and an old
man!'
I showed my paper to Sir Walter and said, 'These are our ideas. But we'll need
someone to help us.' I turned to Whittaker and said, 'Is there a Chief Coastguard on
the East Coast?'
'I don't know. But we have an Inspector of Coastguards in London. He lives in
Clapham and he knows the East Coast very well.'
'Can you bring him here tonight?' I asked.
'Yes, I think so. I'll go to his house.'
It was very late when Whittaker returned with the Inspector. He was a fine old fellow
and very polite to the officers. Sir Arthur Drew spoke to him first.
'We're looking for a place on the East Coast,' he said, where there are several sets of
steps. They probably lead down to the beach. Do you know any place like that?'
'Well, sir, I don't know. There's Brattlesham in Norfolk of course. There are steps
there, but only the fishermen use them.'
That isn't the place,' I said.
Then there are plenty of holiday places. They usually have a few steps.'
'No. This is probably a very quiet place.'
'Then I'm sorry, gentlemen. I don't know. There's only the Ruff...'
'What's that?' I asked.
'It's a bit of high ground on the Kent coast. Near Bradgate. There are some fine
houses on the top and some of them have stairs down to the beach. They're private
beaches of course.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'Well, the people who own the houses also own the beaches, sir. When you buy a
house there, you get a piece of private beach as well.'
I picked up the book of tides and found Bradgate. High tide there was at twenty-seven
minutes past ten on June 15th.
'How can I find the time of high tide at the Ruff?' I asked the Inspector.
'Oh, I know that, sir. I stayed there once in June. It's ten minutes before high tide at
Bradgate.'
I shut the book and looked around.
'Sir Walter.' I said, 'can I borrow your car and a map of the roads in Kent? I'd like to
have some of your men too, MacGillivray. We may be able to surprise these German
gentlemen tomorrow morning.'
They did not answer me for a moment. I did not work for the Foreign Office or the
Admiralty, and I was not in the British Army. But I was young and strong and I had
met these spies before.
It was Royer who spoke first. 'I'm quite happy,' he said, 'to leave this matter in Mr.
Hannay's hands.'
'Yes, yes,' Sir Walter said, 'I think so too.' And he nodded at MacGillivray.
Half an hour later I was driving quickly through the villages of Kent. MacGillivray's
best officer was sitting beside me in the car. It was half past three in the morning.

Adapted by Roland John for Intermediate Level

THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
John Buchan

CHAPTER 10: THE HOUSE BY THE SEA

We stayed at the Griffin Hotel in Bradgate. At seven o'clock in the morning I was
looking out of a window there. It was a beautiful day.
A man was fishing down at the harbour, and I remembered Royer's story about the
lion.
A small warship had just arrived and was lying south of the harbour. I called
MacGillivray's man.
'Inspector Scaife,' I said, 'do you know that ship?
Perhaps Whittaker sent her here.'
'I don't think so,' he said. 'She's usually along this part of the coast.' And he told me
her name and the name of her captain. I went to the telephone and sent a telegram to
Sir Walter about them.
After breakfast Scaife and I walked along the beach. We went towards the stairs on
the Ruff but stopped half a mile from them.
'I won't come all the way with you,' I said. 'These fellows know me very well. I'll wait
here. You go on and count all the steps.'
I sat down behind a rock and waited. There was no one on the beach. It was ten
o'clock when Scaife came back.
'There are six sets of stairs,' he said, 'and they lead to six different houses.' He took a
piece of paper from his pocket and read: 'Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-nine, forty-
two, forty-seven and twenty-one.'
I felt so pleased that I almost got up and shouted.
We hurried back to Bradgate and sent a telegram to MacGillivray. I wanted six good
men, and they had to stay at different hotels in the town.
'Now go back to the thirty-nine steps,' I said to Scaife, and have a look at the house.
Then go to the post-office and find out who lives there.'
He brought back some strange but interesting facts. The house was called Trafalgar
Lodge and belonged to an old gentleman named Appleton. Mr. Appleton often stayed
there in the summer. He had arrived about a week before and was still there. No one
knew a lot about him but he seemed kind and quiet. Scaife had made some excuse to
visit the house and noticed three women there.
'They look after the place,' he said, 'and they can't possibly be Germans. They talk too
much for that.'
'Did you notice the houses on each side of Trafalgar Lodge?' I asked.
'Yes. The house on the right is empty. They're still building the place on the left.'
Before dinner I walked along the Ruff myself and I took Scaife's telescope. I found a
quiet place away from the houses and sat down there. I could see the house very well
through the telescope. It was a red stone place with large windows. There was a
garden all around the house, and the British flag was flying there from a tall post!
While I was watching, a man left the house to walk along the hill-top. He was an old
man wearing white trousers and a blue coat. He was also carrying a telescope, and he
had a newspaper under his arm. He walked about two hundred yards and then sat
down on a seat to read the paper. A few minutes later he put down the paper and
looked at the warship through the telescope. And he looked at it for a long time. I
watched him for half an hour, and then he got up to return to the house. I went back
to my hotel.
I was not very happy about that old man. He did not look like a spy, but he could be
the old fellow from that Scottish farm.
In the afternoon an exciting thing happened. A yacht came up from the south and lay
near the Ruff. She was about a hundred and fifty tons and she flew the British flag.
Scaife and I went down to the harbour and spoke to the coastguard there. We said
that we wanted to go fishing. So the coastguard got a boat for us, and we sailed out
of the harbour.
We caught about twenty pounds of fish that afternoon. And about four o'clock we
sailed quite close to the yacht. She looked like a wonderful white bird on the water.
'She's a fast boat,' Scaife said. 'If anyone wants to get away quickly, they'll go in this
ship. There's plenty of power in those engines.'
Her name was the Ariadne. We spoke to a few men on her, and they were clearly
Englishmen. Then an officer appeared, and the men stopped talking. The officer was a
young man with a bright clean face and he spoke English very well. But we were quite
certain that he was not an Englishman. His hair was cut very short and his clothes
looked quite foreign.
In the evening I met the captain of the warship at the hotel.
'We may need your ship tonight or tomorrow,' I said. 'Have you heard anything about
it?'
'Yes, sir. I've had a message from the Admiralty. I'll come in close when it's dark. I
know what to do.'
About an hour later I walked back along the hill-top towards Trafalgar Lodge. The old
man and a young man were playing tennis in the garden. While I was watching them,
a woman brought out bottles and glasses. The young man who was rather fat took the
things from her.
'Those fellows seem all right,' I said to myself. 'They're quite different from those
terrible men in Scotland. I've probably made a mistake.'
Then another man arrived at the house on a bicycle. He was thin, dark and quite
young. They finished the game of tennis and they all went into the house.
I walked slowly back to the hotel. Was I wrong about those men? Were they acting
while I was watching them? They did not know that anyone was watching them. And
they behaved like any Englishmen.
But there were three men in that house: the old man, the fat one and the thin, dark
fellow. The house agreed completely with Scudder's notes. A yacht was lying half a
mile away and she had a foreign officer. I thought about Karolides and the danger of
war. And I remembered the fear in Sir Arthur Drew's face.
I knew what I had to do. I had to go to that house and arrest those men. If I was
wrong, I would take the blame myself. But I did not like the job at all.
Suddenly I remembered my friend Peter Pienaar in Rhodesia. I have already written
something about him. Well, Peter had been a criminal before he became a policeman.
In fact the police accepted him for that reason. He knew all the worst criminals in the
country. Peter told me that he had once escaped very easily from the police. He had
put on a black coat and gone to church. And he had chosen to sit next to a police
officer. They had sung together and used the same book. And Peter had not been
recognized!
I asked him why the policeman had not recognized him. And Peter replied, 'Because
the place and my clothes were different. He would have known me if I had been in the
street or at a hotel. He would have recognized me if I had been wearing my usual
clothes. But he did not believe that I would go to church or wear a long black coat.'
These thoughts made me quite sure again. Our German enemies were as wise as
Peter. They lived in an English house, and the British flag was flying in the garden.
They used English names and played English games. Their private life was completely
English, and so no one was suspicious of them.
It was now eight o'clock in the evening. I met Scaife at the hotel and gave him his
orders.
'Put two men in the garden,' I said, 'and hide three others close to the windows. When
I want you, I'll call.'
I was not hungry, so I went for a walk. I noticed the lights on the Ariadne and on the
warship. I sat down on a seat and waited for more than an hour.
At half past nine I went to Trafalgar Lodge. Scaife's men were in their places by now,
but I did not see anyone. There were lights in the house and the windows were open.
I rang the door-bell.
One of the women opened the door.
'May I speak to Mr. Appleton?' I asked.
'Yes, sir. Please come in,' she said.
I had made a plan. I hoped to walk straight into the house and see those three
German faces at once. They would recognize me immediately, and it would show on
their faces.
But when I was inside, I could not move. I noticed their hats and coats and walking-
sticks. There was a large clock in the corner of the hall. English pictures were hanging
on the walls, and the place was like ten thousand other English homes.
'Your name, sir?' the woman asked.
'Hannay. Richard Hannay.'
She went into a room and called my name. I followed her immediately but I was too
late. The three men had had a moment to hide their surprise.
The old man was standing up, and he and the fat one were wearing dinner-suits. The
other man had on a suit of blue cloth.
'Mr. Hannay?' the old man said. 'You wish to speak to me, I believe. Excuse me, you
fellows. Come into the next room, Mr. Hannay.'
I pulled a chair towards me and sat down on it.
'We've met before,' I said, 'and you know my business.'
The light was not very bright in the room. But I noticed that they all looked surprised.
'Perhaps we have,' the old man said, 'but I can't remember. I'm sorry that I don't
know your business, sir. Will you please tell me?'
I thought about Peter Pienaar and said, 'This is the end, gentlemen. I've come to
arrest you all.'
'Arrest us!' the old man said. 'But why?'
'I arrest you for the murder of Franklin Scudder in London on May 23rd.'
'I've never heard that name before,' the old man said, and his voice seemed very
weak.
The fat man spoke then. 'I read about that in the papers. But this is terrible. We don't
know anything about the murder, sir. Where do you come from?'
'Scotland Yard,' I said.
They said nothing when they heard that. The old man looked down at his feet and
seemed very nervous.
Then the fat man said, 'This must be a mistake, uncle. These things do happen
sometimes. But we can easily prove the truth. I wasn't even in England on May 23rd,
and you were ill, weren't you, Bob? You were in London, uncle, I know, but you can
explain your business there.'
'That's right, Percy! Now what did I do on May 23rd? Oh, I remember. I came up in
the morning from Woking and had dinner with Charlie Symons. I was at Grantham
House in the afternoon, wasn't I? Yes, that's right. And I stayed there all the evening.'
The fat fellow looked at me. 'I'm afraid you've made a mistake, sir. We'll help you if
we can of course. But sometimes Scotland Yard is wrong.'
'Yes, indeed,' the old man said. 'We'll do anything to help you, sir, but this is clearly a
mistake.'
'Won't Nellie laugh when she hears about this!' one of them said.
'Oh, she will! I must tell Charlie about it too. Now Mr. Hannay, I'm not angry with you,
but you've come to the wrong place.'
They could not be acting. I felt sure that it was all true. I had made a mistake. And I
wanted to say, 'I'm sorry, gentlemen,' and leave the house.
But the old man was very bald. The fat fellow was there too, and the third man was
dark and thin. I looked at them carefully and I looked around the room. Everything
was all right. I could not see one suspicious thing in that room. And I did not
recognize their faces.
'Don't you agree, sir?' the old man asked me. 'Haven't you come to the wrong house?'
'No. This is the right house.'
'Well, it's a great waste of time,' the thin fellow said. 'Are you going to take us to the
police station? You're only doing your duty, I know, but it's very difficult.'
I did not answer him. I thought, 'Oh, Peter Pienaar, help me!'
The fat man stood up. 'Perhaps Mr. Hannay needs more time,' he said. 'It isn't an
easy problem for him. Let's play bridge for half an hour, shall we? Do you play, sir?'
'Yes. I've plenty of time and I like a game of bridge.'
We went into the next room, and I looked around. Books and newspapers were lying
about. The tennis things were in an open cupboard in the corner. The old man's
telescope was on top of the cupboard.
We sat around a card-table in the middle of the room. And the dark fellow brought me
a drink. I played with him against the other two.
It was like a dream. The windows were open, and I could see the moonlight on the
sea. The three men were not afraid at all. They were talking and laughing together.
But my heart was beating very quickly.
I did not play very well that night. My thoughts were too ugly for me to follow the
cards. I had doubts about these men, and they knew it of course. I looked at their
faces again and again but could not recognize them. They did not only appear
different. I felt sure that they were different. 'Oh, Peter,' I thought once more.
Then suddenly I noticed something. The old man had put down his cards to drink
some wine. And he did not pick them up for a moment. He sat back in his chair and
began to rub his right ear.
I immediately remembered that Scottish farm. I was standing in front of him there
again. I had just finished telling him my story. And he had sat back and rubbed his
ear. It was only a little thing, but I remembered it clearly.
The clouds lifted from my eyes and everything was bright again. I recognized the
three men at once. Their faces changed suddenly and I knew all their secrets.
It was the dark fellow who had killed Scudder. I was still playing bridge with him, but
his eyes looked cold and cruel now. The fat man had changed too. He did not have
one face but a hundred faces. And he had probably been Lord Alloa of the night
before.
But the old man was clearly the chief criminal. He was as hard as a rock and quite
without fear. I remembered Scudder's words: 'If you see his eyes, Hannay, you'll
never forget them.' And it was true. I should never forget them.
We continued to play, but my heart was full of hate. When the dark man spoke to me,
I could not answer him.
'Bob! Look at the clock,' the old man said. 'You'll miss your train if we don't hurry.' He
turned to me. 'Bob has to go back to London tonight.' The voice was now as
completely false as their faces.
'I'm sorry,' I said, 'but he isn't going tonight.'
'Why not?' the young man asked. 'I must go. I'll give you my address.'
'No. You must stay here.'
That probably made them nervous. They had tried to deceive me, but the trick had
failed. They had only one chance now, and the old man took it.
'Well, arrest me, Mr. Hannay, and let my nephew go. Will that be all right?'
I shouted, 'Scaife!'
The lights went out immediately. Strong arms held me, and I could not move.
'Schnell, Franz,' a voice cried, 'das Boot, das Boot!' (1)

I looked out of the window. Two police officers were running across the garden. The
dark fellow had jumped through the window and was running towards the steps.
Suddenly the room filled with people, and I was free. I caught the old man and held
him. Scaife and another policeman fell upon the fat one. The lights came on.
We looked out of the window again. Franz reached the steps before the policemen. He
opened the gate which locked itself behind him. And the policemen could not follow.
We waited for a few minutes.
Suddenly the old man broke away from me. He rushed to the wall of the room and
pressed a small button. A great noise rose up from below the house. The steps flew
into the air in a cloud of dust.
'Dynamite!' I cried. 'They've destroyed the stairs!'
The old man was looking at me and laughing. A terrible light burned in his eyes.
'He is safe,' he shouted. 'You cannot follow him. He is gone ... He has won ... Der
Schwarzestein ist in der Siegeskrone.' (2)
Two police officers caught the old fellow by the arms, and I said my last words to him.
'Franz hasn't won anything. He'll reach the Ariadne quite safely, I'm sure. But the boat
has been in our hands for the last hour.'

Seven weeks later in August 1914, as all the world knows, we went to war. I joined
the New Army at once, and because my experience in South Africa, was made an
oficer. But I had done my best service, I think, before the war began. 

(1) German for "Quickly, Franz, the boat.. the boat!".

(2) German for "The Black Stone has won the victory".

Adapted by Roland John for Intermediate Level