"If you don't mind," he continued, "I'll make a note of your name and address. We might be glad of your evidence, and I know the commissioner would like to write you a little letter to send you his official thanks."
"Oh, he mustn't trouble to do that," objected the girl hastily. "I'm sure he's frightfully busy, and, after all, it's quite easy just to blow a whistle."
Colin laughed. "You can't get out of it," he said. "Still, if you'll tell the Inspector your name and where you live I don't suppose he'll bother you to give evidence unless it's absolutely necessary."
"You can count on that, miss," remarked the other reassuringly.
"Well, I live just round the corner at No. 46 Jubilee Place," said the girl, "and my name's Seymour—Miss Nancy Seymour."
The Inspector committed this information to an official-looking pocketbook, and then held out his hand to Colin.
"I shan't forget that you've saved my life, doctor," he said. "I hope that next time you're up in our direction you'll look in and pay us a visit." He paused. "And remember," he added, "that if there's ever any little way in which we can be of use to you, you've only got to let us know. We like to pay our debts at the Yard when we get the opportunity."
"I shall remember," said Colin, smiling. "It might come in handy one of these days."
He stepped forward as a movement amongst the onlookers heralded the approach of the ambulance, and, after assisting to lift the injured constable inside, came back to where the girl was standing.
"Can I see you as far as your house?" he asked. "I don't suppose any of those blackguards are still hanging about, but there's no point in running risks."