I approached the hut warily. A vague pathway among the boulders led
to the dilapidated opening. All was silent within. Throwing aside my
cigarette, I closed my hand upon the butt of my revolver and, walking
swiftly up to the door, looked in. The place was empty, but there were
signs of habitation: blankets, the ashes of a fire heaped in a rude
grate, a litter of empty tins, a pannikin & a half-full bottle of
spirits. A flat stone served as a table, and upon this stood a small
cloth bundle - the same I had seen through the telescope upon the
shoulder of the boy. It contained a loaf of bread, a tinned tongue, and
two tins of preserved peaches. Beneath it there lay a sheet of paper,
upon which , roughly scrawled in pencil, was a curt message that made me
suddenly aware that it was I, and not Sir Henry, who was being dogged by
this secret man, who had set an agent upon my track. I had the feeling
