understood it, and it did me no end of good, for it straightened out the thing

in my own mind. I blinked no detail. He heard all about Scudder, and the

milkman, and the note-book, and my doings in Galloway. Presently he got very

excited and walked up and down the hearthrug.

 

“So you see,” I concluded, “you have got here in your house the man that is

wanted for the Portland Place murder. Your duty is to send your car for the

police and give me up. I don’t think I’ll get very far.

 

There’ll be an accident, and I’ll have a knife in my ribs an hour or so after

arrest. Nevertheless, it’s your duty, as a law-abiding citizen.

 

Perhaps in a month’s time you’ll be sorry, but you have no cause to think of

that.”

 

He was looking at me with bright steady eyes. “What was your job in Rhodesia, Mr

Hannay?” he asked.

 

“Mining engineer,” I said. “I’ve made my pile cleanly and I’ve had a good time

in the making of it.”

 

“Not a profession that weakens the nerves, is it?”

 

I laughed. “Oh, as to that, my nerves are good enough.” I took down a

hunting-knife from a stand on the wall, and did the old Mashona trick of tossing