Sentence The Fourhunderdandfourth

Later, it may have been half an hour, or maybe three, his watch had stopped at some point, and the glass was cracked, he turned to the guard, who he could see outside the wooden box, still reading: “soldier,” said Dane, “I've been confused since banging my head, probably concussion, maybe senescence for all I know, it does that to people, a bump on the head, but I need to tell your Captain something, can you give him a message?” and the soldier, who was becoming bored with his third reading of the book, the only one he had brought with him on this tour of duty, happily agreed –

anything to break the boredom of sitting there, his fiefdom being guard duty on four unconscious and probably dying men, and this strange Englishman, or rather, Scotchman, Dane having protested at being called English; Dane gave him the message and Private Leo Nardini, from The Bronx, wrote it down and called to the next man along the tunnel, who took it and passed it on to Captain Turpin, who read the message over twice and showed it to Foster; “what do you think, 'Doc'?” to which, Foster replied, “why ask me? I dunno nuthin' bout nuthin',” at which Turpin winked and said, “your litotes do you credit, 'Doc',” and a few minutes later they approached The Hold and relieved Nardini, who gratefully went up the passage for coffee and a smoke; Captain Turpin sat on a box outside the stockade structure, while Foster leaned against the side wall, and invited the Professor, to tell him what he believed he knew: “I've had a look at these men, and you don't have to believe me, but, two of them, I don't know how they have survived so long after the vicious attacks on them, look to me to be dressed in authentic13^th century clothing – I'm no expert on textiles or historic dress, but they look pretty genuine to me; the other two are modern in appearance and dress, one, who seems to have had a heart attack, I have no idea about, while the other, who seems to have been struck by a half-brick, I do recognise: he's Duncan Doubleday, Deputy Chief Constable of Police Scotland, based at Fettes, in Edinburgh; I know he isn't in uniform but I have actually met him before, at several official functions in the city, did he have any papers on him?” which was when Captain Turpin began to take a great interest in the dusty rock floor; several minutes passed, and the professor managed to keep his own counsel, while he waited for the young officer to look up, which eventually he did: “there was only

one with any kind of ID on him – he had a police warrant-card, in the name of Duncan Doubleday, with a photograph of himself on it, we know nothing about the others, but how can all this be true? we're on The Black Virgin mountain in Vietnam, not Scotland, how do you explain any of it? unless, of course, you and he, or all five of you, are involved in some kind of Intelligence Operation, but for which side?” and after a pause, Dane said: “I can't explain it, though The Black Virgin is nearly a thousand metres, and a single peak, while the tallest of the Eildons – where I have a strange feeling we may actually be – is less than half that, but I have just a couple more questions – do you get your supplies by an air-drop?” Turpin nodded, “a chopper, at night,” and then Dane followed up with: “are they lying on the hillside, or in a cairn on the top of the middle hill?” and this time Turpin seemed rather faint himself, swaying as his mind tried to work it all out, his experiencing the jimjams as he began to hyperventilate and Doctor Foster gave him a whiff of smelling salts to revive him, then he was able to reply: “a pile of stones, a kinda fake cairn, with a door, one of the guys from the chopper must be lowered and put them in there for safety, we pick them up before dawn, but how do you know so much about this mountain, The Black Virgin?” and Dane said, “and I bet you haven't had any radio contact from your HQ in all the time you've been here,” not a question, a statement, and he then stood up and winked at the captain: “I visited Vietnam after the war, Captain Turpin, welcome to

Scotland, and the 21^st Century!”