The 15th of June was going to be an important day, but because of something more important than the murder of a Prime Minister. The story in his book was not complete, and there were some things I didn't understand -- for example, the words "thirty-nine steps", which appeared five or six times. The last time the words were used, Scudder had written "Thirty-nine steps, I counted them -- high tide at 10:17 p. m."

I drove that car across the moor as fast as I could, looking nervously over my shoulder. I was also thinking desperately about Scudder's notes.

The first thing I learned was that war was certain. Everything was planned. Karolides was going to be murdered and nothing could prevent it.

Scudder had told me nothing but lies. All his stories about south-east Europe and people wanting to start wars were rubbish. But although he had told me lies, there was truth underneath.

The second thing I learned was that Britain was not prepared for war. Karolides would be murdered and war would seem certain. Germany would pretend to be against war, but while we and they discussed peace, their submarines would silently fill the seas around us.

But on the 15th of June other people were going to be in London. Scudder didn't give names, but called them just the "Black Stone". They had a plan to get hold of this information, which was meant only for the French Government. And the information would be used by our enemies just a week or two later, with a most terrible effect.

There was something else. Although the newspapers didn't know it, the British and French governments were close allies, and had agreed to prepare for war together. The most important officers in the armies and navies met regularly, and in June one of the top people was coming from Paris for a meeting. He would be told the exact details of the British Navy's preparations for war.

My first idea was to write a letter to the British Prime Minister. But nobody would believe my story. I had to find proof that Scudder's story was true; and this would not be easy with the police and the Black Stone following me.

I drove to the east through a country at peace; but I knew that in a month's time, unless I was very lucky, men would be lying dead in this quiet countryside. I came into a village and I saw a policeman standing outside the Post Office and reading something carefully. He looked up at the car, stepped into the road, and held up a hand to stop me.

I almost did stop. But then I realized that the policeman had been reading about me. I supposed the police at the hotel had worked quickly and contacted all the local villages. I drove faster, the policeman jumped out of my way, and I was soon out of the village.

I took a road that went along a narrow valley, and then up onto the moor again. I was very hungry; I had eaten nothing since morning. And now, as I drove, I heard a noise in the sky, and there was the plane.

I left the main road as soon as possible and tried a smaller one. It was not easy without a map, and I realized that I had been stupid to steal the car. It would help the police and the Black Stone to find me in any corner of Scotland. If I left it, and went off on foot, they would find me in an hour or two.

On the moor it would see me in a minute. I drove as fast as I could down into another valley and towards a wood. Suddenly, a car appeared in front of me from a side road. There was no time to stop. I did the only thing possible and drove off the road into a hedge, hoping to hit something soft beyond. But I was out of luck. The car went through the hedge like a knife through butter, and immediately began to fall. I jumped out and was caught by the branch of a tree, while the car disappeared into a river fifteen metres below.

"It's my fault," I told him. "That's the end of my holiday, but that's better than the end of my life!"

A hand helped me out of the tree, and a frightened voice asked me if I was badly hurt. The speaker was a young man who was very alarmed and very sorry. I was more pleased than angry; it was a good way for the car to disappear.

He looked at his watch. "I'm in a hurry, but my house is very near. Let me give you some food and a bed. But what about your luggage? Is it in the river?"

"It's in my pocket," I said. "I'm from Australia, so I never carry much luggage."

We got into his car and in three minutes we were at his very comfortable house. He found some food for me. "You've only got five minutes, I'm afraid, but you can eat properly after wards. We've got to be at the meeting at eight o'clock. You see, I'm a candidate for the election and I've got a problem tonight. I had arranged for Crumpleton, who was the Australian Prime Minister, to speak at the meeting tonight, but he's ill. I've got to speak for forty minutes, and I don't know what to say. Listen, My -- you haven't told me your name -- Twisdon, you say? Well, Mr Twisdon, can you talk about Australia for a few minutes?"

"From Australia," he cried. "You're just the man I need."

But behind all the rubbish I could see that Sir Harry was a nice man. And he spoke very badly. I knew I wasn't a good speaker, but I would be better than him.

It seemed strange to ask a man you had met in a car crash to speak at an election meeting, but I needed his help.

I simply told them everything I knew about Australia. I said that Britain and Australia must work together and be friends. I think I was rather a success.

He was delighted. We got in his car, and on the way to the meeting he told me about his life. His name was Sir Harry Andrews and his uncle was in the government and had suggested politics as a job. He knew nothing about politics, but he was a friendly young man and I was glad to help him. When we arrived at the meeting, there were about five hundred people waiting. I was introduced as a trusted Australian leader"and then Sir Harry started to speak. It was mostly about preparing for war. He said the Germans didn't want a war and that if we stopped building new warships, the Germans would do the same. I thought about Scudder's black book in my pocket.

"All right," I said. "I'm not a good speaker, but I'll speak for a bit."

"Was it? I wasn't sure myself. Do you think Germany is going to start a war with us?"

We had a good supper -- which I needed -- and sat in front of a fire in his sitting-room. I thought the time had come for me to tell the truth and see if this man could help me.

When we were back in his car again, Sir Harry was delighted. "You spoke wonderfully, Twisdon," he said. "Now you must stay for a few days. There's excellent fishing here."

"Listen, Sir Harry, I've got something very important to say to you. You're an honest man, and I'm going to be honest too. Everything you said tonight was dangerous rubbish."

"In six weeks time you won't need to ask me that Listen, and I'll tell you a story."

"So you see," I said finally,"I'm the man the police want for the Langham Place murder. You should call them at once."

I sat in front of the fire, in that peaceful room, and told him everything. He heard about Scudder, his notebook, the milkman, and my travels in Scotland. It was the first time I had told the truth, all of it, to anyone, and I felt better.

He looked at me carefully. "I know you're not a murderer, Hannay, and I believe you're speaking the truth. I'll help you. What do you want me to do?"

He pulled his moustache. "That won't help you. My uncle isn't interested in foreign politics, and I don't think he'd believe you. No. I'll write to a friend of his, Sir Walter Bullivant, who works in the Foreign Office. He's an intelligent man and I think he'd help. What shall I say?"

So he wrote a letter to Sir Walter, saying that if a man named Twisdon came to him, he should help him. Twisdon would say the words "Black Stone" and would whistle the song "Annie Laurie", to prove who he was.

"First, write to your uncle. I must contact the government before the 15th of June."

"Can you lend me some old clothes and give me a map? And if the police come, show them the car in the river."

He told me where Sir Walter lived, and asked me what more he could do.

I then slept for three or four hours, until Sir Harry woke me at two o'clock. He gave me an old bicycle for the first part of the journey.