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.

He opened his eyes a little. “Oh no, I shall not give you up. My friends and I will have a little private settlement with you, that is all. You know a little too much, Mr. Hannay. You are a clever actor, but not quite clever enough.”

He spoke with assurance, but I could see the dawning of a doubt in his mind.

“Oh, for God’s sake stop jawing,” I cried. “Everything’s against me. I haven’t had a bit of luck since I came on shore at Leith. What’s the harm in a poor devil with an empty stomach picking up some money he finds in a bust-up motorcar? That’s all I done, and for that I’ve been chivvied for two days by those blasted bobbies over those blasted hills. I tell you I’m fair sick of it. You can do what you like, old boy! Ned Ainslie’s got no fight left in him.”

I could see that the doubt was gaining.