Turns out this is his first talkie, a feature that was intended to be all-silent, and became mostly a talkie after it was ostensibly done.
Of course, being Hitchcock, the master of visual storytelling, he barely needs dialog to make a good movie.
If you can tolerate 1920s-style moviemaking, then there's a lot to enjoy here: it begins with a cops-raid-an-apartment sequence that would feel at home in any modern procedural, followed by arrest, booking, lineup, and then the detectives washing up and talking weekend plans like any other blue collar worker.
Frank the detective is engaged to Alice (they both have great silent movie faces!) Frank catches Alice walking out on a date with him to step out instead with suave Mr. Crewe, an artist. In a classic movie trope, Crewe smooth-talks Alice into visiting his garret apartment, where he manages to get her out of her clothes and assaults her.
In a pure Hitchcock move of turning a handicap (he can't show the attempted rape onscreen) into an advantage, he shows the bed draperies shaking as Alice struggles, then her arm emerges from the draperies...and her hand grasps a massive knife on a cheese plate. The hand reenters the bed, the drapes stop shaking, and then silence...and Alice emerges, in shock, clutching the knife.
Frank is at the murder scene the next morning and finds one of Alice's gloves - we learned the night before she tends to lose/drop/forget them - at the same moment he recognizes Crewe from the night before. In another plot device that has become a trope in the last century, He connects all the dots and pockets the glove to protect Alice.
Yes, it's self defense, so the audience is on her side all the way, but - and 1920s mores are another advantage to Hitch here - Alice is petrified by what's happened and won't ask Frank for help. She is mortified to reveal to Frank or anyone else that she was assaulted, or how she ended up in Crewe's apartment in her underwear in the first place. You get the feeling that she'd go to the gallows as a murderer before telling Frank or a jury that she let herself enter his apartment alone and consent to get undressed.
Then the blackmailer shows up. Mr. Tracy, a slimy neighborhood moocher and ex-con who witnessed Alice come and go from the apartment, and has one of her gloves. How far will he go? What can Alice and Frank do? All I'll say is the movie ends with a classic Hitchcock-style footchase through a national landmark, in this case, the National Museum in London.
If you don't mind 1920s moviemaking, this one has a lot to offer in the early days of Hitchcock's deft storytelling style. It may be a a 100-year-old barely talking, scratchy black and white movie, but you are in good hands.