"Then, to put it plainly, I've nothing to hope for from you?" I snapped. "Very little, I fear, sir." "And this is our police system which was only recently so highly commended by the Royal Commission of Inquiry!" I blurted forth. "It's a scandal!" "It is not for us to make any comment, my dear Mr. Holford," said the elder of the two officers. "The Commissioner himself decides what action we take upon information we may receive. I dare say," he added, "our decision in this case does appear to you somewhat strange, but-- well, I may as well point out that there is a special feature in it which does not appear to you--an outsider." "What special feature can there be, pray? A well-known man has been assassinated. Surely, therefore, it is the duty of the police to stir themselves and make every inquiry!" "We have only your statement for that. As far as we or the public are aware, Professor Greer is travelling somewhere on the Continent." "But, if you disbelieve me, go to Kershaw Kirk, in Whitehall Court, or to the Professor's daughter down at Broadstairs, or to Pietro Merli, who keeps a newsagent's in the Euston Road. Each of these persons knows the truth, and would speak--if compelled." "The Commissioner has had all those names before him, but in face of that he has decided not to enter into this matter. His decision," said the officer, "is irrevocable." "Then our police system is a perfect farce!" I cried. "No wonder, indeed, we have in London a host of undiscovered crimes! The man Kirk laughed at you here as blunderers!" I added. But the pair only exchanged glances and grinned, causing me increased anger. "In any other city but London the police would, upon my information, at once institute inquiry!" I declared. "I'm a tax-payer, and am entitled to assistance and protection." "We have already offered to assist you to discover the whereabouts of Mrs. Holford," the elder man pointed out politely. "Then inquire of this man Kirk, or Seymour, as he calls himself, in Whitehall Court," I said. "He can tell you where she is--if he chooses." "You suspect him of having a hand in her disappearance? Why?" inquired the other detective officer. I related clearly and succinctly the facts upon which my belief was based and of the description given of my wife's companion by the hotel-manager in Florence. The officer slowly shook his head. "That's scarcely conclusive, is it? The description is but a vague one, after all." "Well," I said bitterly as I rose, "if you refuse to assist me, I must, I suppose, seek redress elsewhere. May I see the Commissioner myself?" "You can make formal application, if you like. But I don't expect he will see you. He has already fully considered the matter." And that was all the satisfaction accorded me.