He sat down at his desk, and busied himself with a mass of buff dockets.
In desperation I renewed my appeal.

'I implore you to telephone to Mr Macgillivray at Scotland Yard.

It's a matter of life and death, Sir.
You're taking a very big responsibility if you don't.' I had hopelessly offended his brittle dignity.

'Any more of your insolence and I'll have you put in irons.

I'll attend to you soon enough for your comfort.