‘I was hurt and had nowhere else to go,’ Jimmy answered in a strained voice. ‘I only want shelter for a few hours; not to stay.’
‘How did ye get hurt?’
‘A Territorial stopped me at a gate. He tore my arm with his bayonet, but the cut’s not very deep.’
‘Ye were hard put to it when ye tried to pass the soldier,’ Moir remarked.
‘I had to pass him. It was very dark, and there was a hole in the dyke not far off. I thought the others were after me.’
‘What ithers? But ye’ll go back and begin at the first o’ it. I sent ye the price o’ a third-class passage to Canada. Why did ye not go?’
‘The money was stolen.’
‘Ay,’ said Moir grimly, ‘I will not ask ye where! Gang on.’
Jimmy hesitated, but pulled himself together and told his tale. Soon after he was left penniless and disgraced, he found a friend in Fritz, one of the boon companions who had brought about his downfall. Fritz lent him a few small sums and by and by took him to see another man, who sent him to Leith. Jimmy did not mention what he did there, but stated awkwardly that he had got in too deep to draw back when he found out what his employer’s business really was. Then he stopped and said his arm was hurting him. The women looked puzzled, but Moir’s face set like flint.
‘So ye stayed and helped the Gairman spies!’