04-01-04-三十九级台阶 [25]
，and would also be a good place to hide in.
I took a telescope and found a good hiding place from which to watch the house. I watched for a time，and saw an old man leave the house and walk into the back garden at the top of the cliff. He sat down to read a newspaper，but he looked out to sea several times. I thought he was probably looking at the warship I watched him for half an hour，until he went back into the house for lunch. Then I went back to the hotel formine.
I wasn't feeling very confident. That old man might be the old man I had met in the farmhouse on the moors. But there are hundreds of old men in houses by the sea，and he was probably just a nice old man on his holidays.
After lunch I sat in front of the hotel and looked out to sea；and then I felt happier，because I saw something new. A yacht came up the coast and stopped a few hundred metres off the Ruff MacGillivray and I went down to the harbour， got a boat，and spent the afternoon fishing.
We caught quite a lot of fish， and then，at about four o'clock，went to look at the yacht. It looked like a fast boat and its name was the Ariadne. I spoke to a sailor who was cleaning the side of the boat， and he was certainly English. So was the next sailor we spoke to，and we had quite a long conversation about the weather.
Then，suddenly，the men stopped talking and started work again，and a man in uniform walked up. He was a pleasant，friendly man， and asked us about the fishing in very goodEnglish. But I was sure that he was not English himself.
I felt a little more confident after seeing him， but as we went back to Bradgate，I was still not sure. My enemies had killed Scudder because they thought he was a danger to them. They had tried to kill me-for the same reason. So why hadn' t they changed their escape plans？They didn't know about Scudder's black notebook， but why stay with the same plan when there was a chance that I knew about it？It seemed a stupid risk to take.
I decided to spend an hour or two watching Trafalgar House and found a good place where I could look down on the garden. I could see two men playing tennis. One was the old man I had already seen；the other was a younger， fatter man. They played well，and were clearly enjoying themselves like two businessmen on holiday. I have never seen anything more harmless. They stopped for a drink， and I asked myself if I wasn't the most stupid man alive. These were two normal， boring Englishmen，not the clever murderers that I had met in Scotland.
Then a third man arrived on a bicycle. He walked into the garden and started talking to the tennis players. They were all laughing in a very English way. Soon they went back into the house，laughing and talking，and I stayed there feeling stupid.
These men might be acting，but why？ They didn't know I was watching and listening to them. They were just three perfectly normal，harmless Englishmen.
* * *
But there were three of them：and one was old，and one was fat，and one was thin and dark. And a yacht was waiting a kilometre away with at least one German on it. I thought about Karolides lying dead，and all Europe trembling on the edge of war， and about the men waiting in London，hoping that I would do something to stop these spies.
I decided there was only one thing to do. I had to continue and just hope for the best. I didn't want to do it. I would rather walk into a room full of wild animals than walk into that happy English house and tell those three men they were under arrest. How they would laugh at me！
Then I remembered something that an old friend in Africa once told me. He had often been in trouble with the police. He once talked about disguises with me， and he said that the way somebody looked was not the real secret. He said that what mattered was the'feel'of somebody. If you moved to completely different surroundings，and if you looked comfortable and at home there，you would be very difficult to recognize. My friend had once borrowed a black coat and tie and gone to church and stood next to the policemen who was looking for him. The policemen had only seen him shooting out the lights in a pub
I took a telescope and found a good hiding place from which to watch the house. I watched for a time，and saw an old man leave the house and walk into the back garden at the top of the cliff. He sat down to read a newspaper，but he looked out to sea several times. I thought he was probably looking at the warship I watched him for half an hour，until he went back into the house for lunch. Then I went back to the hotel formine.
I wasn't feeling very confident. That old man might be the old man I had met in the farmhouse on the moors. But there are hundreds of old men in houses by the sea，and he was probably just a nice old man on his holidays.
After lunch I sat in front of the hotel and looked out to sea；and then I felt happier，because I saw something new. A yacht came up the coast and stopped a few hundred metres off the Ruff MacGillivray and I went down to the harbour， got a boat，and spent the afternoon fishing.
We caught quite a lot of fish， and then，at about four o'clock，went to look at the yacht. It looked like a fast boat and its name was the Ariadne. I spoke to a sailor who was cleaning the side of the boat， and he was certainly English. So was the next sailor we spoke to，and we had quite a long conversation about the weather.
Then，suddenly，the men stopped talking and started work again，and a man in uniform walked up. He was a pleasant，friendly man， and asked us about the fishing in very goodEnglish. But I was sure that he was not English himself.
I felt a little more confident after seeing him， but as we went back to Bradgate，I was still not sure. My enemies had killed Scudder because they thought he was a danger to them. They had tried to kill me-for the same reason. So why hadn' t they changed their escape plans？They didn't know about Scudder's black notebook， but why stay with the same plan when there was a chance that I knew about it？It seemed a stupid risk to take.
I decided to spend an hour or two watching Trafalgar House and found a good place where I could look down on the garden. I could see two men playing tennis. One was the old man I had already seen；the other was a younger， fatter man. They played well，and were clearly enjoying themselves like two businessmen on holiday. I have never seen anything more harmless. They stopped for a drink， and I asked myself if I wasn't the most stupid man alive. These were two normal， boring Englishmen，not the clever murderers that I had met in Scotland.
Then a third man arrived on a bicycle. He walked into the garden and started talking to the tennis players. They were all laughing in a very English way. Soon they went back into the house，laughing and talking，and I stayed there feeling stupid.
These men might be acting，but why？ They didn't know I was watching and listening to them. They were just three perfectly normal，harmless Englishmen.
* * *
But there were three of them：and one was old，and one was fat，and one was thin and dark. And a yacht was waiting a kilometre away with at least one German on it. I thought about Karolides lying dead，and all Europe trembling on the edge of war， and about the men waiting in London，hoping that I would do something to stop these spies.
I decided there was only one thing to do. I had to continue and just hope for the best. I didn't want to do it. I would rather walk into a room full of wild animals than walk into that happy English house and tell those three men they were under arrest. How they would laugh at me！
Then I remembered something that an old friend in Africa once told me. He had often been in trouble with the police. He once talked about disguises with me， and he said that the way somebody looked was not the real secret. He said that what mattered was the'feel'of somebody. If you moved to completely different surroundings，and if you looked comfortable and at home there，you would be very difficult to recognize. My friend had once borrowed a black coat and tie and gone to church and stood next to the policemen who was looking for him. The policemen had only seen him shooting out the lights in a pub