At first I thought it was only a bruise, but it seemed to be swelling, and I had no use of my left arm.
My plan was to seek Mr Turnbull's cottage, recover my garments, and especially Scudder's note-book, and then make for the main line and get back to the south.

It seemed to me that the sooner I got in touch with the Foreign Office man, Sir Walter Bullivant, the better.

I didn't see how I could get more proof than I had got already.

He must just take or leave my story, and anyway, with him I would be in better hands than those devilish Germans.

I had begun to feel quite kindly towards the British police.
It was a wonderful starry night, and I had not much difficulty about the road.