Page 138 - the-thirty-nine-steps

the golf-clubs and tennis-rackets, the straw hats and caps,
the rows of gloves, the sheaf of walking-sticks, which you
will find in ten thousand British homes. A stack of neatly
folded coats and waterproofs covered the top of an old oak
chest; there was a grandfather clock ticking; and some pol-
ished brass warming-pans on the walls, and a barometer,
and a print of Chiltern winning the St Leger. The place was
as orthodox as an Anglican church. When the maid asked
me for my name I gave it automatically, and was shown into
the smoking-room, on the right side of the hall.
That room was even worse. I hadn’t time to examine it,
but I could see some framed group photographs above the
mantelpiece, and I could have sworn they were English pub-
lic school or college. I had only one glance, for I managed
to pull myself together and go after the maid. But I was too
late. She had already entered the dining-room and given my
name to her master, and I had missed the chance of seeing
how the three took it.
When I walked into the room the old man at the head of
the table had risen and turned round to meet me. He was
in evening dress a short coat and black tie, as was the other,
whom I called in my own mind the plump one. The third,
the dark fellow, wore a blue serge suit and a soft white collar,
and the colours of some club or school.
The old man’s manner was perfect. ‘Mr Hannay?’ he said
hesitatingly. ‘Did you wish to see me? One moment, you
fellows, and I’ll rejoin you. We had better go to the smok-
ing-room.’
Though I hadn’t an ounce of confidence in me, I forced

138 The Thirty-Nine Steps