September 21, 1916 
LAND & WATER 
17 
Greenmantle 
By John Buchan 
A Sequel to " The Thirty-Nine Steps •' 
I 
Synopsis : Rickard Hannay is asked by Sir Walter 
Bullivant of the Foreign Office, to undertake a mission to 
unearth a secret connected with Turkey and Germany. The . 
only clue is a scrap of paper bearing the words, Kasredin 
—cancer — v. I. Hannay undertakes th: mission ; his 
friend Sandy {the Hon. L. G. Arbuthnot) agrees to help 
him. Sir Walter introduces him to an American, John S. 
Blenkiron, a strong pro-Ally, who joins them. Three 
months later they meet in Constantinople, Hannay having 
reached there by way of the Danube, accompanied by a 
Rhodesian friend, Peter Pienaar, after many adventures 
in Germany. Blenkiron also goes by way of Germany, 
and Sa'ndy arrives at Constantinople disguised as a Ma- 
hommcdan fanatic. After the three meet, Hannay, who has 
previously posed as a Boer from Western Cape Colony, 
assumes the character of an American engineer. Riding 
one evening on the outskirts of Constantinople with Pienaar 
they lose their way and find themselves in total darkness in 
a garden.' Here Hannay, by chance, meets Sandy in 
disguise. While talking, a big car drives up in which a 
German lady, Hilda von Einem, is seated ; this woman ts 
thought to hold the main clue to the secret. She drives 
Hannay to her house where she questions him. 
CHAPTER XIV (continued) 
HAVE hoard of you," she said. " You are called 
Richard Hanau, the American. Wliy have you come 
to tliis land ? " 
" To have a share in the campaign," I said. " I'm 
an engineer, and I thought 1 could help out with some 
business like Mesopotamia." 
■' You are on Germany's side ? " she asked. 
" Why, yes," I replied. " We Americans are supposcil 
to be nootrals, and that means we're free to choose any side 
we fancy. I'm for the Kaiser." 
Her cool eyes searched me, but not in suspicion. I could 
see she wasn't troubling with the question whether I was 
speal«ng the truth. She was sizing me up avS a man. I 
cannot describe that calm appraising look. There was no 
sex in it, nothing even of that implicit sympathy with which 
one human being explores the existence of another. I was 
a chattel, a thing infinitely removed from intimacy. Even 
so I have myself looked at a horse which I thought of buying, 
scanning his shoulders and hocks and paces. Even so must 
the old lords of Constantinople have looked at the slaves which 
the chances of war brought to their markets, assessing their 
usefulness for some task or other with no thought of a 
Immanity common to purchased and purchaser. And yet — 
not quite. This woman's eyes were weighing me, not for any 
special duty, but for my essential qualities. I felt that I was 
under the scrutiny of one who was a connoisseur in human 
nature. 
I see I have written that I knew nothing about women. 
But every man has in his bones a consciousness of sex. I was 
shy and perturbed, but horribly fascinated. This slim 
woman, poised exquisitely like some statue betwcenjthe pillared 
lights, with her fair cloud of hair, her long delicate face, and 
her pale bright eyes, had the glamour of a wild dream. I 
hated her instinctively, liated her intensely, but I longed 
to arouse lier interest. To be valued coldly by those eyes was 
an offence to my manhood, and I felt antagonism rising 
within me. I am a strong fellow, well set up, and rather 
above the average height, and my irritation stiffened me from 
heel to crown. I flung my head back and gave her cool 
glance for cool glance, pride against. pride. 
Once. I remember, a doctor on board sliip who dabbled in 
hypnotism told me that I was the most unsympathetic 
person he had ever struck. He said I was about as good a 
mesmeric subject as Table Mountain. Suddenly I began to 
reaHsc that this woman was trying to cast some spell over me. 
The eyes grew large and luminous, and I was conscious for 
just an instant of some will battling to subject mine. I was 
aware, too, in the same moment of a strange scent which 
recalled that wild hour in Kuprasso's garden-house. It 
passed quickly, and for a second her eyes drooped. I seemed 
to read in them failure, and yet a kind of satisfaction too, as 
if they had found more in me than they expected. 
" What life have you led ? " the soft voice was saying. 
I was able to answer naturally, rather to my surprise. 
I have been a mining engineer up and down the world. ' 
" You have faced danger many times ? 
I have faced danger." 
" You have fought against men in battles ? " 
I have fought in battles." 
Her bosom rose and fell in a kind of sigh. A smile — -a 
very beautiful thing — flitted over her face. She gave me 
her hand. 
" The horses are at the door now," she said, " and your 
servant is with them. One of my people will guide you to 
the city." 
She turned away and passed out of the circle of light into 
the darkness beyond. ... 
Peter and 1 jogged home in the rain with one of Sandy's 
skin-clad Companions loping at our side. We did not 
speak a word, for my thoughts were running like hounds on 
the track of the past hours. I had seen the mysterious Hilda 
von Einem, I had spoken to her, I had held her hand. She 
had insulted me with the subtlest of insults and yet I was not 
angry. Suddenly the game I was playing became invested 
with a tremendous solemnity. My old antagonists, Stumra 
and Rasta and the whole German Empire, seemed to shrink 
into the background, leaving only the slim woman with her 
inscrutable smile and devouring eyes. " Mad and bad," 
Blenkiro.i had called her, " but principally bad." I did not 
think they were the proper terms, for they belonged to the 
narrow world of our common exj^erience. This was something 
beyond and above it, as a cyclone or an earthquake is outside 
the decent routine of nature. Mad and bad she might -^be, 
but she was also great. 
Before we arrived our guide had plucked my knee and 
spoken some words which he had obviously got by heart. 
" The Master says," ran the message, " expect him at mid- 
night." 
CHAPTER X'F 
/l;t Embarrassed Toilet 
I was soaked to tlie bone, and while Peter set off 
to look for dinner, I went to my room to change. I 
had a rub down and then got into some pyjamas for 
dumb-bell exercises with two chairs, for that long 
wet ride had stiffened my arm and shoulder muscles. They 
were a vulgar suit of primitive blue, which Blenkiron had 
looted from my London wardrobe. As Cornells Brandt I 
had sported a flannel nightgown. 
My bedroom opened off the sitting-room, and while I was 
busy with my gymnastics I heard the door open. I thought 
at first it was Blenkiron, but the briskness of the tread was 
unlike his measured gait. I had left the light burning there, 
and the visitor, whoever he was, had made himself at home. 
I slipped on a green dressing-gown Blenkiron had lent me, 
and sallied forth to investigate. 
My friend Rasta was standing by the table, on which 
he had laid an envelope. "He looked round at my entrance 
and saluted. 
" I come from the Minister of War, sir," he said, " and 
bring your passports ■ for to-morrow. You will travel by 
. . ." And then his voice tailed away and his black eyes 
narrowed to slits. He had seen something which switched 
him oi"f the metals. 
At that moment I saw it too. There was a mirror on the 
wall behind him, and as I faced him I could not help seeing 
my reflection. It was the exact image of the engineer on the 
Danube boat — blue jeans, loden cloak, and all. The accursed 
mischance of my costume had given him the clue to an 
identity which was otherwise buried deep in the Bosporus. 
I am bound to say for Rasta tiiat he was a man of quick 
action. In a trice he had whipped round to the other side 
of the table between me and the door, where he stood regarding 
mc wickedly. 
By this time I was at the table and stretched out a hand 
for the envelope. My one hope was nonchalance. 
" Sit down, sir," I said, " and have a drink. It's a filthy 
night to move about in." 
" Thank you, no, Herr Brandt," he said. " You may 
burn those passports, for they will not be used " 
" Whatever's the matter with you ? " I cried " You've 
mistaken the house, my lad. I'm called Hanau — Richard 
