"I haven't been in a theater for a dozen years, sir."

Gregory was convinced that he had made a mistake. Like Louis
Bassett, the very unlikeliness of Jud Clark being connected with
the domestic atmosphere and quiet respectability of the old house
made him feel intrusive and absurd. He was about to apologize and
turn away, when he thought of something.

"There are two names on your sign. The other one, was he by any
chance at the theater last night?"

"I think I shall have to have a reason for these inquiries," David
said slowly.

He was trying to place Gregory, to fit him into the situation;
straining back over ten years of security, racking his memory,
without result.

"Just what have you come to find out?" he asked, as Gregory turned
and looked around the room.

"The other Doctor Livingstone is your brother?"

"My nephew."

Gregory shot a sharp glance at him, but all he saw was an elderly
man, with heavy white hair and fierce shaggy eyebrows, a portly and
dignified elderly gentleman, rather resentfully courteous.

"Sorry to trouble you," he said. "I suppose I've made a mistake.