THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
About one in the morning the coastguard man arrived. He was a fine old fellow with the look of a naval officer, and was desperately respectful to the company. I left the War Minister to cross-examine him, for I felt he would think it cheek in me to talk.
"We want you to tell us the places you know on the east coast where there are cliffs, and where several sets of steps run down to the beach."
He thought for a bit. "What kind of steps do you mean, sir? There are plenty of places with roads cut down through the cliffs, and most roads have a step or two in them. Or do you mean regular staircases—all steps, so to speak?"
Sir Arthur looked towards me. "We mean regular staircases," I said.
He reflected a minute or two. "I don't know that I can think of any. Wait a second. There's a place in Norfolk—Brattlesha—beside a golf course, where there are a couple of staircases to let the gentlemen get a lost ball."
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