When he has read and turned over the last of the papers, he closes the folder, takes a fountain pen out of his jacket pocket, makes a note in a booklet lying on his desk. For a moment he looks like a teacher. No, a headmaster. Disciplining a delinquent. I shift my weight on the stool.

Then he finally speaks.

“Here we are, Captain van Huysmans. Only, you must be wondering where ‘here’ is. What criminal enterprise is this, operating in the heart of London? What sort of robbers are these that have taken hold of you? What can you do to set yourself free?

“And then, you heard the typewriters, as we passed them in the corridor. I saw your head tilt. Typewriters, in England! Even on the Continent, I understand, only a small number of bureaucracies have adopted them wholesale. Always, always, there is resistance to innovation — even without any embargo. I find this reassuring. Human nature at its best. Afraid of the new. And yet, I approve of our typewriters. Our reports, see, they become easier to read, and by putting special paper between the pages, we can create copies even as we type the original. It is miraculous, really.

“So who are these men, who can abduct you with impunity, who have access to foreign technology, and who have use for records and reports? I will let you in on a secret, a terrible secret. England has a police force. Not officially, mind. Three times the issue has been debated in Parliament and three times it has been rejected. A police force is something for the French, the Germans! For godless countries in which the government spies on its citizens. For what is a police force if not an army of spies and meddlers? People invading the privacy of our homes! Our gentry are partial to their homes, you see. They like to be able to lock the door.

“And yet, all the same, here it is. A secret police force, created by a subcommittee for public welfare. A very tiny committee it is. Five permanent members. Not aligned with either of the parties but neutral. A pure organ of the state, if you will. One of the first things they did was to have strands of wire drawn across the land. In secret of course, underground where possible, a thin, fragile network. Seven telephones: that is all we have, after a decade of work. I took my first call a few days ago, and how foolish I felt, shouting words into the ether.