THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
"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 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 23d 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 23d! That was the day after
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