I
am taking you to Malchester Row Police Station."

"To arrest me? You would dare? Do you know I am the Princess Petrovska?
There is some mistake. I shall appeal to the Russian Ambassador. What do
you say I have done? I am a friend of Lady Eileen Meredith, the daughter
of the Duke of Burghley. She will tell you I have only just left her.
You are confusing me with some one else."

It was admirably done. The mixture of indignation and haughtiness might
have imposed upon some people, and the threat of appeal to the Russian
Ambassador had been very adroit. Heldon Foyle merely nodded.

"This is not arrest," he replied. "It is not even detention--unless you
force me to it. I am inviting you to accompany me to give an account of
your movements on the night that Harry Goldenburg was murdered. I will
call your bluff, Lola, and we will call at the ambassador's if you
like."

She made a gesture with one hand, as of a fencer acknowledging a hit,
and, turning her head, smiled sweetly into his face. Nevertheless, in
spite of everything, she felt a little nervous. She had gone to see
Eileen with her eyes not fully open to the risk she ran. Deftly used,
newspapers have their uses. In supplying the story of the murder to the
pressmen, Foyle had omitted all mention of the finding of the miniature.
The woman had not known that Scotland Yard had a portrait of her, and
had deemed it unlikely that she would be recognised by the watchers of
the house. Although she had lived by her wits in many quarters of the
world, she had hitherto avoided trouble with the police in England. She
wondered how much Foyle knew. It was evidently of no use trying to
impress him with the importance of her rank and connections. Princesses
are cheap in Russia.

"You are Mr. Heldon Foyle, of course," she said. "I have heard that you
are very clever. I don't see what I can have had to do with the murder,
even if I am Lola Rachael--which I admit."

"We shall see. Can you prove where you were between ten o'clock, when
you left the Palatial Hotel, and midnight on that date?"

She laughed merrily. "You are not so clever as I thought," she
exclaimed. "Do you think that I am a murderess? I went straight to an
hotel near Charing Cross--the Splendid--and caught the nine o'clock boat
train to Paris. It is easily proved."

Foyle shifted to the seat opposite, so that he could see her face more
easily.

"Then you don't deny that you visited Grosvenor Gardens that night