'
'Well, then,' I said, and all the time I seemed to myself to be
talking pure foolishness--'I have come to tell you that the game's
up. I have a warrant for the arrest of you three gentlemen.'
'Arrest,' said the old man, and he looked really shocked. 'Arrest!
Good God, what for?'
'For the murder of Franklin Scudder in London on the 23rd day
of last month.'
'I never heard the name before,' said the old man in a dazed voice.
One of the others spoke up. 'That was the Portland Place murder.
I read about it. Good heavens, you must be mad, Sir! Where do you
come from?'
'Scotland Yard,' I said.
After that for a minute there was utter silence. The old man was
staring at his plate and fumbling with a nut, the very model of
innocent bewilderment.
Then the plump one spoke up. He stammered a little, like a man
picking his words.
'Don't get flustered, uncle,' he said. 'It is all a ridiculous mistake;
but these things happen sometimes, and we can easily set it right. It
won't be hard to prove our innocence. I can show that I was out of
the country on the 23rd of May, and Bob was in a nursing home.
You were in London, but you can explain what you were doing.'
'Right, Percy! Of course that's easy enough. The 23rd! That was
the day after Agatha's wedding. Let me see. What was I doing? I
came up in the morning from Woking, and lunched at the club with
Charlie Symons.
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