y.

"Never mind. You have a look at her, old chap. You never know in these
cases. You may remember her when you see her. Every one walks
differently, and you may spot her by that. It won't do any harm if you
don't succeed."

He led Wills to a spot a few paces away from the house, but out of view
of any one looking from the windows, and gave him instructions to remain
where he was. He himself returned to the corner where Taylor, the
detective-inspector who had greeted them when they drove up, was
waiting. The other end of that side of the square was guarded by one of
Taylor's assistants. Lola was trapped--if Foyle wished her to be
trapped.

He beckoned to a uniformed constable who was pacing the other side of
the road. The man nodded--detectives whatever their rank are never
saluted--and took up his position a few paces away.

They had not long to wait. A taxicab whizzed up to the house, evidently
summoned by telephone. Wills was staring as though fascinated at the
slim, erect figure of the woman outlined on the steps of the house. He
half stooped, then straightened himself up again. The superintendent
muttered an oath under his breath and nodded to the loitering policeman.
The constable immediately sprang into the roadway with arm outstretched,
and the cab, which was just gathering way, was pulled up with a jerk.
The blue uniform is more useful in some cases than the inconspicuous
mufti of the C.I.D.

"Get hold of Wills and bring him after us to Malchester Row Police
Station." And, opening the door, he stepped within as the driver dropped
in the clutch.

The Princess had half risen and gave a little cry of dismay at the
intrusion. With grim, set face the detective adjusted his tall form to
the limits of the cab and sat down beside her. His hand encircled her
wrist, and he forced her back to the seat.

"I shouldn't try to open the door if I were you," he said quietly. "You
might fall out."

The woman dropped back and did some quick thinking. She had no
difficulty in guessing who Foyle was, and she could scarcely have failed
to see the staring figure of the butler as she left the Duke of
Burghley's house. She fenced for time, doing the astonished, outraged,
half-frightened innocent to perfection.

"What does this mean? How dare you molest me? Where are you taking me?"

The detective smiled easily as he answered in the formal words of C.I.D.
custom: "I am a police officer--perhaps I needn't tell you that--and