The whole story was in the notes⁠—with gaps, you understand, which he would have filled up from his memory. He stuck down his authorities, too, and had an odd trick of giving them all a numerical value and then striking a balance, which stood for the reliability of each stage in the yarn. The four names he had printed were authorities, and there was a man, Ducrosne, who got five out of a possible five; and another fellow, Ammersfoort, who got three. The bare bones of the tale were all that was in the book⁠—these, and one queer phrase which occurred half a dozen times inside brackets. “(Thirty-nine steps)” was the phrase; and at its last time of use it ran⁠—“(Thirty-nine steps, I counted them⁠—high tide 10:17 p.m. ).” I could make nothing of that.