I hope you'll remember, Mr.Colwyn, that I did all that was humanly possibly for a professional man to do--in fact, I went beyond the bounds of professional decorum, in tendering advice to a perfect stranger.

And you will also remember that what I told you about his condition was in the strictest confidence.

I should like very much to accompany you to the police station, if you have no objection--I feel strongly interested in the case." "I shall be glad if you will come," replied the detective.
Colwyn turned down the short street to the front, where a footpath protected by a hand rail had been made along the edge of the cliff for the benefit of jaded London visitors who wanted to get the best value for their money in the bracing Norfolk air.

At the present moment that air, shrieking across the North Sea with almost hurricane force, was too bracing for weak nerves on the exposed path, and it was real hard work to force a way, even with the help of the handrail, against the wind, to say nothing of the spray which was flung up in clouds from the thundering masses of yellow waves dashing at the foot of the cliffs below.

Sir Henry Durwood, at any rate, was very glad when his companion turned away from the cliffs into one of the narrow tortuous streets running off the front into High Street.
Colwyn paused in front of a stone building, half way up the street, which displayed the words, "County Police," on a board outside.