The lobby of the hotel was deserted, and through the glass doors leading to the breakfast-room she could see a few guests still at their morning meal.
A porter was sweeping the front entrance, and of him she enquired the way to the police station, and set out for it.
'It was chill and grey after the storm, with a sky obscured by scudding clouds, but a gleam of truant sunshine was sporting wantonly on the hoary castled summit of St.Michael's Mount, and promised to visit the town later on.

Mrs.Pendleton walked briskly, and soon arrived at the police station.
A young constable in the office came forward as she entered and enquired her business.

She disclosed her name, and her relationship with the inmate of Flint House, deeming that would be sufficient to gain her an interview with somebody in authority.

In that expectation she was not disappointed.
The constable favoured her with a good hard stare, went into another room, and reappeared to say that Inspector Dawfield would see her at once.
She followed him into the inner room, where a slight man of middle age was seated at a leather-covered table opening his morning correspondence.

He looked up and bowed as he saw his visitor, but waited until the constable had retired before he spoke.
"Good morning," he said.