ef Inspector Kerry?"

"What name?" inquired the voice.

Mollie hesitated for three seconds, and then gave her family name.

"Very well, madam," said the voice respectfully. "Please hold on, and I
will enquire if the Chief Inspector is here."

Mollie's heart was beating rapidly with pleasurable excitement, and she
was as confused as a maiden at her first rendezvous. Then:

"Hello," said the voice.

"Yes?"

"I am sorry, madam. But Chief Inspector Kerry is off duty."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Mollie, "what a pity. Can you tell me where I could
find him?"

"I am afraid not, madam. It is against the rules to give private
addresses of members of any department."

"Oh, very well." She sighed again. "Thank you."

She replaced the receiver and stood biting her finger thoughtfully. She
was making a mental inventory of her many admirers and wondering which
of them could help her. Suddenly she came to a decision on the point.
Taking up the receiver:

"Victoria 8440, please," she said.

Still biting one finger she waited, until:

"Foreign office," announced a voice.

"Please put me through to Mr. Archie Boden-Shaw," she said.

Ere long that official's secretary was inquiring her name, and a moment
later:

"Is that you, Archie?" said Mollie. "Yes! Mollie speaking. No, please
listen, Archie! You can get to know everything at the Foreign office,
and I want you to find out for me the private address of Chief Inspector
Kerry, who is in charge of the Bond Street murder case. Don't be silly!
I've asked Scotland Yard, but they won't tell me. You can find out....
It doesn't matter why I want to know.... Just ring me up and tell me.
I must know in half an hour. Yes, I shall be seeing you tonight.
Good-bye...."

Less than half an hour later, the obedient Archie rang up, and Mollie,
all excitement, wrote the following address in a dainty scented notebook
which she carried in her handbag.

CHIEF INSPECTOR KERRY,
67 Spenser Road, Brixton.

CHAPTER XXVII. CROWN EVIDENCE

The appearance of the violet-enamelled motor brougham upholstered in
cream, and driven by a chauffeur in a violet and cream livery, created
some slight sensation in Spenser Road, S.E. Mollie Gretna's conspicuous
car was familiar enough to residents in the West End of London, but to
lower middle-class suburbia it came as something of a shock. More than
one window curtain moved suspiciously, suggesting a hidden but watchful
presence, when the glitt