“It was not,” I cried; “it was his living image, but it was not Lord Alloa. It was someone who recognized me, someone I have seen in the last month. He had scarcely left the doorstep when I rang up Lord Alloa’s house and was told he had come in half an hour before and had gone to bed.”
“Who—who—” someone stammered.
“The Black Stone,” I cried, and I sat down in the chair so recently vacated and looked round at five badly scared gentlemen.
Chapter IX.
The Thirty-Nine Steps
“Nonsense!” said the official from the Admiralty.
Sir Walter got up and left the room while we looked blankly at the table. He came back in ten minutes with a long face. “I have spoken to Alloa,” he said. “Had him out of bed—very grumpy. He went straight home after Mulross’s dinner.”
“But it’s madness,” broke in General Winstanley. “Do you mean to tell me that that man came here and sat beside me for the best part of half an hour and that I didn’t detect the imposture? Alloa must be out of his mind.”
“Don’t you see the cleverness of it?” I said. “You were too interested in other things to have any eyes. You took Lord Alloa for granted. If it had been anybody else you might have looked more closely, but it was natural for him to be here, and that put you all to sleep.”
Then the Frenchman spoke, very slowly and in good English.
“The young man is right. His psychology is good. Our enemies have not been foolish!”