We went to his study for coffee, a jolly room full of books and
trophies and untidiness and comfort. I made up my mind that if
ever I got rid of this business and had a house of my own, I would
create just such a room. Then when the coffee-cups were cleared
away, and we had got our cigars alight, my host swung his long
legs over the side of his chair and bade me get started with my yarn.
'I've obeyed Harry's instructions,' he said, 'and the bribe he
offered me was that you would tell me something to wake me up.
I'm ready, Mr Hannay.'
I noticed with a start that he called me by my proper name.
I began at the very beginning. I told of my boredom in London,
and the night I had come back to find Scudder gibbering on my
doorstep. I told him all Scudder had told me about Karolides and
the Foreign Office conference, and that made him purse his lips and grin.
Then I got to the murder, and he grew solemn again. He heard
all about the milkman and my time in Galloway, and my deciphering
Scudder's notes at the inn.
'You've got them here?' he asked sharply, and drew a long
breath when I whipped the little book from my pocket.
I said nothing of the contents. Then I described my meeting
with Sir Harry, and the speeches at the hall. At that he laughed
uproariously.
'Harry talked dashed nonsense, did he? I quite believe it.
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