'That was the Portland Place murder.

I read about it.

Good heavens, you must be mad, Sir! Where do you come from ?' 'Scotland Yard,' I said.
After that for a minute there was utter silence.

The old man was staring at his plate and fumbling with a nut, the very model of innocent bewilderment.
Then the plump one spoke up.

He stammered a little, like a man picking his words.
'Don't get flustered, uncle,' he said.