•f"'^' ^' '916 LAND & WATER 
Greenmantle 
By John Buchan 
A Sequel to " The Thirty-Nine Steps " 
Richard Hannay's concluding zcords in " The rhiriy-Nine Steps.'' were : " Three xceeks later, 
as all the world knows, ive went to war. I joined the New Army the first week, and owing 
to my Matabele expenence got a captain's commission straight 6ff. but I had done mv 
oest service I think before I put on khaki." How far he was right in his surmise 
irreenmantle zenll show. It will he remembered that it was Sir Walter Bullivant of the 
roreign Office who was the means of giving Mr. Hannay the final clue to the Black Stone Gang 
17 
CHAPTER I 
A Mission is Proposed 
J HAD just finislied breakfast and was filling my pipe 
when I got BuUivant's telegram. It was at Furling, 
the big country house in Hampshire where I had come 
to convalesce after Loos, and Sandy, who was in the 
same case, was hunting for the marmalade. I flung him the 
flimsy with the blue strip pasted down on it, and heWhistled. 
" Hullo, Dick, you've got the battalion. Or maybe it's 
a staff billet. You'll be a bUghted brass-hat coming it heavy 
over the hard-working regimental officer. And to think 
of the language you've wasted on brass-hats in your time ! " 
I sat and thought for a bit, for that name " Bullivant " 
carried me back eighteen months to the hot summer before 
the war. I had not seen the man since, though I had read 
about him in the papers. For more than a year I had been 
a busy battahon officer with no other thought than to hammer 
a lot of raw staff into good soldiers. I had succeeded pretty 
well, and there was no prouder man on earth than Richard 
Hannay, when he took his Lenno.x Highlanders over the 
parapets on that glorious and bloody 25th day of September. 
Loos was no picnic and we had had some ugly bits of scrapping 
before that, but the worst bit of the campaign I had seen 
was a tea-party to the show I had been in with Bulhvant 
before the war started. 
The sight of that name on a telegram form seemed to 
change all my outlook on life. I had been hoping for the 
command of the battalion, and looking forward to being in 
at the finish with Brother Boche. But this message jerked 
my thoughts on a new road. There might be other things 
in the war than straightforward fighting. Why on earth 
should the Foreign Office want to see an obscure Major of 
the New Arm}', and want to see him in double quick time ? 
" I'm going up to town by the ten train," I announced, 
" I'll be back in time for dinner." 
" Try my tailor," said Sandy. " He's got a very nice taste 
in red tabs. You can use my name." 
An idea struck me. " You're pretty well all right now. If I 
wire for yon will you pack your owij kit and mine and joinme ? " 
" Right-o ! I'll accept a job on your staff if they give you 
a corps. If so be as you come down to-night, be a good chap 
and bring a barrel of oysters from Sweeting's." 
I travelled up to London in a regular November drizzle, 
which cleared up about Wimbledon to watery sunshine. I 
never could stand London during the war. It seemed to 
have lost its bearings and broken out into all manner of 
badges and uniforms which did not fit in with my notion of 
it. One felt the war more in its streets than in the field, 
or rather one felt the confusion of war without feeling the 
puriwsc. I daresay it was all right, but since August. 1914. 
I never spent a day in town without coming home depressed 
to mv boots. 
I took a taxi and drove straight to the Foreign Office. 
Sir Walter did not keep me waiting long. But when his 
Secretary took me to his room I would not have recognised 
the man I had known eighteen months l)efore. 
His big frame seemed to have dropped flesh and there 
was a stoop in the square" shoulders. His face had lost its 
rosiness and was red in patches like a man who gets too little 
fresh air. His hair was much greyer and very thin about the 
temples, and there were lines of overwork below the eyes. 
But the eyes were the same as before, keen and kindly and 
shrewd, aiid there was no change in the firm set of the jaw. 
"We must on no account be disturbed for the next hour," 
he told his secretary. When the young man had gone he 
went across to both doors and turned the key in them. 
"Well, Major Hannay," he said, flinging himself into a 
chair beside the fire. " How do vou like soldiering .•' 
" Right enough, "I said, "though this isn't just the kind of 
war I would have picked myself. It's a comfortless bloody 
business But we'\-e eot the measure of the old Boche now. 
and it's dogged as does it. I count on getting back to the 
Front in a week or- two ! " 
" Will you get the battalion? " he askecl. H'; seemed to 
have followed my doings pretty closely. 
" I believe I've a good chance. I'm not in this show for 
honour and glory though. I want to do the best I can, but 
I wish to Heaven it was over. All I think- of is coming out 
of it with a whole skin." 
He laughed. " You do yourself an injustice. What about 
the forward observation post at Lone Tree .' You forgot 
about the whole skin then." 
_ I felt myself getting red. " Th^t was all rot," I said, 
" and I can't think who told j'ou about it. I hated the job. 
but I had to do it. to prevent my subalterns going to glory. 
If I had sent one of them he'd have gone on his knees to 
Providence and asked for trouble." 
Sir Walter was stiil grinning. 
"I'm not c,..estioning your caution. Y'ou have the rudi- 
ments of it, or our friends of the Black Stone would have 
gathered you in at our last merry meeting. I would question 
it as httle as your courage. What exercises my mind is 
whether it is best employed in the trenches." 
" Is the War Office dissatisfied with me ? " I a.sked sharply. 
" They are profoundly satisfied. They propose to give you 
command of your battalion. Presently, if you escape a 
stray bullet, you will no doubt be a Brigadier. It was a 
wonderful war for youth and brains. But ... I take 
it you are in this business to serve your country. Hannay ? " 
" I reckon I am," I said. " 1 am certainly not in it for 
my health." 
He looked at my leg. where the doctors had dug out the 
shrapnel fragments, and smiled quizzically. " Pretty fit 
again ? " he asked. 
" Tough as a sjambok. I thrive on the racket and eat and 
sleep Hke a schoolboy." 
He got up and stood with his back to the fire, his eyes 
staring abstractedly out of the window at the wintry Park. 
" It is a great game and you are the man for it. No doubt. 
But there are others who can play it, for soldiering to-day 
asks for the average rather than the exception in human 
nature. It. is like a big machine where the parts are 
standardised. You are fighting not because you are short of 
a job, but because you want to help England. How if you 
could help her better than by commanding a battalion — or a 
brigade — or if it comes to that, a division ? How if there is a 
thing which you alone can do ? Not some embusque business 
in an office, but a thing compared to which your fight at Ijoos, 
was a Sunday school picnic. You are not afraid of danger ? 
Well, in this job you would not be fighting with an army 
around you, but alone. You are fond of tackling difficulties ? 
Well, I can give you a task which will try all your powers. 
Have you anything to say ? " \ 
My heart was beginning to thump uncomfortably. Sir 
Walter was not the man to pitch a case too high. 
I am a soldier," I said, " and under orders." 
" True, but what 1 am about to propose does not come bv 
any conceivable stretch within the scope of a soldier's duties. 
1 shall perfectly understand if you dechne. You will be 
acting as I should act myself, as any sane man would. I 
would not press you for worlds. If you wish it, I will not 
even make the proposal, but let you go here and now and 
wish you good luck with your battalion. I do not wish to 
perplex a good soldier with impossible decisions." 
This piqued me and put me on mv mettle. 
" 1 am not going to run away before the guns fire. Let me 
hear what you propose." 
Sir Walter crossed to a cabinet, unlocked it with a key 
from his chain, and took a piece of paper from a drawer. It 
looked like an ordinary half sheet of note-paper. 
■• I take it." he said, " that your travels have not extended 
to the Er.st." 
" No," I said, " barring a shooting trip in East Africa." 
