The sun seemed to warm his cheeks, the salt wind blew in his face.

Westerham wondered for a moment what his friend saw in the grey flagged street to bring that faint reminiscent smile to his lips.
A messenger from the hall outside came in, and respectfully addressed the Duke.
"Your Grace is wanted upon the telephone," he announced.
The Duke excused himself.

He was absent only for a few minutes, and when he returned and took his place he leaned over towards Andrew.
"My message was from the detective," he said.

"He wants to see me.

In fact, he is coming round here directly.".