Knots of people were standing about in the road--fishermen in jerseys and sea boots, some women, and a sprinkling of children--brought together by the news of murder, but kept from encroaching on the sacred domain of law and order by a massive red-faced country policeman, who stood at the gate in an awkward pose of official dignity, staring straight in front of him, ignoring the eager questions which were showered on him by the crowd.

The group of people nearest the gate fell back a little as they approached, and the policeman on duty looked at them inquiringly.
Colwyn asked him the name of the officer in charge of the district, and received the reply that it was Superintendent Galloway.

The policeman looked somewhat doubtful when Colwyn asked him to take in his card with the request for an interview.

He compromised between his determination to do the right thing and his desire not to offend two well-dressed gentlemen by taking Colwyn into his confidence.
"Well, you see, sir, it's like this," he said, sinking his voice so that his remarks should not be heard by the surrounding rabble.

"I don't like to interrupt Superintendent Galloway unless it's very important.