***
Five minutes later I was sitting in one of the coffee shops in the Strand, with a splendid breakfast before me: bacon and mushrooms with bubble and squeak, and a pot of fine, hot, steaming coffee. The gentleman was reading the morning newspaper.
He looked up at me gobbling down the meal he had bought me and said, “You’re hungry indeed. Looks like you haven’t eaten for days. When was the last time you had a round meal?”
As I shook my head I felt that the man understood that my memory had been misplaced. He hadn’t seemed particularly perturbed about the fact, anyhow.
We talked about the London weather for a little while - nondescript - “As usual,” he said, and I seemed to comprehend his meaning, so that seemed to imply that I was a Londoner.
He said, “But that doesn’t solve the puzzle, does it?”
“What puzzle?” I asked, fearing that he meant my puzzle. What could he know of me? I felt my pulse quicken.
To me it had seemed as though he was going to challenge me, but he leaned forward instead and showed me a page of the newspaper.
Steam Submarine Zelf Page 3