"Here's something you can do for me.

I wish you to understand in advance what I intend doing, so that in case of trouble you may be able to identify me." "Ah, I see! should you be murdered, we would be in position to identify the corpse." He said it so cheerfully and cold-bloodedly that on the instant I saw my stark and mutilated cadaver stretched upon a slab where cool waters trickle ceaselessly, and him I saw bending over and sadly and patiently identifying it as the body of the insane American who _would_ see the East End.
"No, no," I answered; "merely to identify me in case I get into a scrape with the 'bobbies.'" This last I said with a thrill; truly, I was gripping hold of the vernacular.
"That," he said, "is a matter for the consideration of the Chief Office." "It is so unprecedented, you know," he added apologetically.
The man at the Chief Office hemmed and hawed.

"We make it a rule," he explained, "to give no information concerning our clients." "But in this case," I urged, "it is the client who requests you to give the information concerning himself." Again he hemmed and hawed.
"Of course," I hastily anticipated, "I know it is unprecedented, but--" "As I was about to remark," he went on steadily, "it is unprecedented, and I don't think we can do anything for you." However, I departed with the address of a detective who lived in the East End, and took my way to the American consul-general.

And here, at last, I found a man with whom I could "do business." There was no hemming and hawing, no lifted brows, open incredulity, or blank amazement.

In one minute I explained myself and my project, which he accepted as a matter of course.