“You see,” said the chief, “we can’t do much at present, sir. The colonel is highly respected and a Senator, and until we have authority to interfere with his arrangements we must hold our hands. You say that the boy that accompanies them is your son. Maybe it is so, but still the lad is under the colonel’s protection, and we don’t want to lend ourselves to an abduction case. It would be giving ourselves away.”
“But I tell you the boy belongs to me.”
“Maybe he does and maybe he doesn’t. The word of Colonel Clutterbuck is as good as yours, and while the lad is in his custody I don’t see how we can help you. If you take our advice you will let matters slide for awhile. We will keep our eyes upon the household, and if we find him taken out of the custody of the lady who says she is his aunt, why then we will communicate with you, and then will be the time for you to come upon the scene. At present, you will pardon me, sir—I should say my lord—you are what I may call a superfluity.”
“Then you refuse to help me?” said Frank angrily.
“Well, that is not quite as I want to put it,” replied the officer of police, “but I guess it’s about the true meaning. Don’t be impatient, sir; many a bright undertaking has been ruined by too much impatience. I know it isn’t pleasant advice to anyone to be told to take things coolly, but that’s just the advice I would give to you. Let things slide a bit, and when the time is ripe for action, why then you shall know all about it.”
“At least you will give me the colonel’s address?”
“Can’t say I can; the colonel is a man of business, and you will hear of him from everyone in the proper quarter; but it is no part of my duty to act as a directory. You will run against him soon enough without my aid. So, sir, or as I should say, my lord, if you are not busy, I am, and I must wish you good-day.”
With that, the official bowed and walked away. Frank, finding that nothing was to be done, turned also, and so the men separated.
In his hurry to leave England and reach the United States, Fenella’s husband had neglected to arm himself with letters of introduction, and now he found the disadvantage of being in a strange city without a friend. He walked down Broadway, and paraded Fifth Avenue, but saw none but unfamiliar faces. He had put up at one of the large New York hotels, where he had advisedly given a false name. He was not particularly anxious to make the acquaintance of the American interviewer, a gentleman who was unique until copied in England some few years ago. So far he had been able to preserve his incognito, as the police official, who was a kind fellow at heart, had promised to preserve the secret of his identity. So, chafing at the delay, he wandered about listlessly, until, to his great delight, he received one evening a summons to attend at the bureau.
“You see I have not forgotten you,” said the official. “Now I think we can set to work. The boy you have been looking for has left the custody of the colonel—he is no longer in his care.”