I asked for Mr Appleton, and was ushered in. My plan had been to walk straight into the dining-room,and by a sudden appearance wake in the men that start of recognition which would confirm my theory.But when I found myself in that neat hall the place mastered me. There were the golf-clubs and tennisrackets, 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 polished 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 smokingroom, on the right side of the hall.