Page 103 - the-thirty-nine-steps

down the globe, for he had hunted a bit in his day.
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 gib-
bering 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 meet-
ing with Sir Harry, and the speeches at the hall. At that he
laughed uproariously.
‘Harry talked dashed nonsense, did he? I quite believe it.
He’s as good a chap as ever breathed, but his idiot of an un-
cle has stuffed his head with maggots. Go on, Mr Hannay.’

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