.'

'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. Then--oh yes, I dined with the Fishmongers. I remember, for
the punch didn't agree with me, and I was seedy next morning. Hang it
all, there's the cigar-box I brought back from the dinner.' He pointed
to an object on the table, and laughed nervously.

'I think, Sir,' said the young man, addressing me respectfully, 'you
will see you are mistaken. We want to assist the law like all
Englishmen, and we don't want Scotland Yard to be making fools of
themselves. That's so, uncle?'

'Certainly, Bob.' The old fellow seemed to be recovering his voice.
'Certainly, we'll do anything in our power to assist the authorities.
But--but this is a bit too much. I can't get over it.'

'How Nellie will chuckle,' said the plump man. 'She always said that
you would die of boredom because nothing ever happened to you. And now
you've got it thick and strong,' and he began to laugh very pleasantly.

'By Jove, yes. Just think of it! What a story to tell at the club.
Really, Mr Hannay, I suppose I should be angry, to show my innocence,
but it's too funny! I almost forgive you the fright you gave me! You
looked so glum, I thought I might have been walking in my sleep and
killing people.'

It couldn't be acting, it was too confounde