Publisher's Synopsis
Mr Lammas tumbled into bed in the closet behind his living-room, and fell instantly asleep, for he was drowsy with salt air and many long Scots miles. There seemed but an instantbetween his head touching the pillow and the knuckles of his landlady, Mrs BabbieMcKelvie, sounding on his door. "It's chappit five, Professor," her voice followed. "Ye'llmind ye maun be on the road by seven."He rose in a very different mood from that of the night before. Now he was the learnedprofessor, the trusted emissary of his university, setting out on a fateful journey. Gravityfell upon him like a frost. He shaved himself carefully, noting with approval the firm set ofhis chin and the growing height of his forehead as the hair retreated. A face, he flatteredhimself, to command respect. His locks had been newly cut by Jimmy Jardine, the collegebarber, and he subdued their vagaries with a little pomatum. His dress was sober black, hislinen was fresh, and he had his father's seals at his fob; but, since he was to travel the roads, he wore his second-best pantaloons and he strapped strong frieze leggings round thelower part of them. Then he examined the rest of his travelling wardrobe, the breeches andbuckled shoes to be worn on an occasion of ceremony, the six fine cravats Mrs McKelviehad hemmed for him, the six cambric shirts which were the work of the sameneedlewoman, the double-breasted waistcoat of wool and buckram to be worn if theweather grew chilly. He was content with his preparations, and packed his valise with afinicking neatness. He was going south of the Border into unknown country, going to themetropolis itself to uphold his university's cause among strangers. St Andrews should notbe shamed by her ambassador. He looked at his face again in his little mirror. Young, butnot too young-the mouth responsible-a few fine lines of thought on the brow andaround the eyes-he might pass for a well-preserved forty, if he kept his expression at apoint of decent gravit
