"Well, we'll place this before the Commissioner to-day. Perhaps you'll call to-morrow; say about this time. We will then let you know our opinion and our intentions." With that I was compelled to be satisfied, and I left the waiting-room full of hope that by that bold move of mine I might gain knowledge of the whereabouts of my well-beloved. How I existed throughout that day I cannot tell. I tried to attend to my business, but in vain. I was wondering what action was being taken by my sinister-faced neighbour who lived in Whitehall Court under another name, and who seemed to possess a dual personality. At last the hour came when again I turned the car into Scotland Yard, and once more was ushered upstairs into that bare waiting-room wherein so many stories of crime are related. Presently, after a lengthy wait, the two officers entered together and greeted me. "Well," commenced the elder of the pair with some slight hesitation, "we've placed your statement before the Commissioner, Mr. Holford, and he has very carefully considered it. He has, however, decided that it is not a matter for our department." "What?" I gasped. "A man can be foully done to death here in London, and yet the police refuse to believe the story of an honest man--a man who is a witness!" "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.