The Grell Mystery | Page 8

been struck in the face. A quick
wave of crimson had mounted to his temples. Instinctively his hands
clenched. Then regaining a little control of himself he wheeled about
without a word. His hand was on the handle of the door when the
superintendent's suave voice brought him to a halt.
"Oh, by the way, Sir Ralph, you might look at this before you go, and
say whether you recognise it."
He held his clenched hand out, and suddenly unclasped it to disclose
the miniature set in diamonds.
Sir Ralph gave a start. "By Jove, it's little Lola of Vienna!" he
exclaimed. Then realised that he had been trapped. "But I shall tell you
nothing about her," he snapped.
"Thank you, Sir Ralph," said the other quietly.
"But this I think it right you should know," went on Fairfield, standing
with one hand still on the handle of the door: "When Grell was with me
last night he showed me a pearl necklace, which he said he had bought
as a wedding present for Lady Eileen Meredith. If you have not found it,
it may give you some motive for the tragedy."
"Ah!" said Foyle unemotionally.
CHAPTER V
Day had long dawned ere Foyle and his staff had finished their work at
the great house in Grosvenor Gardens. There had been much to do, for
every person who might possibly throw a light on the tragedy had to be
questioned and requestioned. The place had been thoroughly searched
from attic to cellar, for letters or for the jewels that, if Sir Ralph
Fairfield were right, were missing.
Much more there would be to do, but for the moment they could go no
further. Foyle returned wearily to Scotland Yard to learn that of the
finger-prints on the dagger two were too blurred to serve for purposes

of identification. He ordered the miniature to be photographed, and
held a short consultation with the assistant commissioner. The watch
kept for Ivan had so far been without avail. In the corridor, early as it
was, a dozen journalists were waiting. Foyle submitted
good-humouredly to their questions as they grouped themselves about
his room.
"Yes. Of course, I'll let you know all about it," he protested. "I'll have
the facts typed out for you, and you can embroider them yourselves.
There's a description of a man we'd like to get hold of--not necessarily
the murderer, but he might be an important witness. Be sure and put
that in."
He always had an air of engaging candour when dealing with
newspaper men. Sometimes they were useful, and he never failed to
supply them with just as much information about a case as would in
any event leak out. That saved them trouble and made them grateful.
He went away now to have the bare details of the murder put into shape.
When he returned he held the diamond-set miniature in his hand.
"This has been left at the Lost Property Office," he declared
unblushingly. "It's pretty valuable, so they've put it into our hands to
find the owner. Any of you boys know the lady?"
Some of them examined it with polite interest. They were more
concerned with the murder of a famous man. Lost trinkets were small
beer at such time. Only Jerrold of The Wire made any suggestion.
"Reminds me of that Russian princess woman who's been staying at the
Palatial, only it's too young for her. What's her name?--Petrovska, I
think."
"Thanks," said Foyle; "it doesn't matter much. Ah, here's your stuff.
Good-bye, boys, and don't worry me more than you can help. This
thing is going to keep us pretty busy."
He saw them out of the room and carefully closed the door. Sitting at
his desk he lifted the receiver from the telephone.

"Get the Palatial Hotel," he ordered. "Hello! That the Palatial? Is the
Princess Petrovska there? What? Left last night at ten o'clock? Did she
say where she was going? No, I see. Good-bye."
He scribbled a few words on a slip of paper, and touching the bell gave
it to the man who answered. "Send that to St. Petersburg at once."
It was a communication to the Chief of the Russian police, asking that
inquiries should be made as to the antecedents of the Princess.
For the next three hours men were coming rapidly in and out of the
superintendent's office, receiving instructions and making reports.
Practically the whole of the six hundred men of the C.I.D. were
engaged on the case, for there was no avenue of investigation so
slender but that there might be something at the end of it. Neither Foyle
nor his lieutenants were men to leave anything to chance. Green was
seated opposite to him, discussing the progress they had made.
The superintendent leaned