“We do not doubt you in the least degree, Mr Holford,” the other assured me, speaking very quietly.
“But you do!” I exclaimed in quick anger. “I’ve told you that a crime has been perpetrated.”
“My dear sir,” said the officer, “we get many startling stories told here almost hourly, and if we inquired into the truth of them all, why, we’d require a department as big as the whole of Whitehall.”
“What I told you yesterday is so strange and extraordinary that you believe I’m a madman,” I said. “I see it in your faces.”
“Excuse me, but that is not the point,” he protested. “We are only officers, Mr Holford. We are not the commander. The chief has given his decision, and we are compelled to obey, however much we may regret our inaction.”
“So you refuse your aid in assisting me to find my wife?”
“No. If we can help you to discover Mrs Holford, we willingly will. Perhaps you’ll kindly give us her description, and we’ll at once circulate it through all our channels, both here and abroad. But,” added the man, “I must first tell you that we can hold out very little hope. The number of missing wives reported to us, both here at headquarters and at the various local stations in the metropolitan area, is sometimes dozens in a day. Most of the ladies have, we find on inquiry, gone away of their own accord.”
“But this case is different. My wife has not!” I asserted. “She has been enticed away by a telegram purporting to come from me.”
“And that’s really nothing unusual. We have heard of ladies arranging with other people to send urgent messages in the names of their husbands. It is an easy way of escape sometimes.” And he smiled rather grimly.
“Then, to put it plainly, I’ve nothing to hope for from you?” I snapped.