He knew my name, but he had never seen me before. And as the reflection darted across my mind I saw a slender chance.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said roughly. “And who are you calling Richard Hannay? My name’s Ainslie.”

“So?” he said, still smiling. “But of course you have others. We won’t quarrel about a name.”

I was pulling myself together now, and I reflected that my garb, lacking coat and waistcoat and collar, would at any rate not betray me. I put on my surliest face and shrugged my shoulders.

“I suppose you’re going to give me up after all, and I call it a damned dirty trick. My God, I wish I had never seen that cursed motorcar! Here’s the money and be damned to you,” and I flung four sovereigns on the table.