een Robert Grell, Lady Eileen Meredith,
and the Princess Petrovska.

The reconstruction of the crime for the benefit of the Assistant
Commissioner, Foyle had purposely made provisional, but he was becoming
more than ever convinced in his own mind that, in spite of appearances,
Lola was the person at the bottom of the matter. She had left the
Palatial about ten. If, he argued, she had left Grosvenor Gardens
immediately after the murder it would have been possible for her to get
to the Palatial by that time and to immediately make arrangements to
leave. But for all that his intuition told him he was right, he could
see no way of fixing the guilt on her.

He placed the dossier back in a drawer and, lighting a cigar, paced up
and down the room puffing furiously. Half an hour after midnight Green
came in.

"Yes, it's worth trying," soliloquised Foyle aloud.

"What is, sir?" asked the chief inspector, stopping with his hand on the
door-handle.

"Ah, Green. I was just thinking aloud. Everything all right in Berkeley
Square?"

"Everything quiet, sir."

"Well, things have been happening since I last saw you. I want your
opinion. Sit down and listen to this."

Green selected a comfortable arm-chair by the desk, while the
superintendent went over his interview with Grell. The chief inspector
made no comments until the story was finished. Then he sat in silent
thought for a while.

"I've got faith in your idea, sir," he admitted at last. "It's likely to
be right as anything. But I am doubtful if we shall be able to get any
admission from the Princess."

"One never knows," retorted Foyle. "She's not under arrest yet--only
detained. We're entitled to ask her questions to see if she can clear
herself. But our best chance is to take her off her guard. We might go
along and wake her out of her sleep now and chance it."

* * * * *

The Princess Petrovska had been allotted a couch in the matron's room of
Malchester Row police station, partly to spare her the ignominy of a
cell, partly to ensure that she should be under constant supervision.
Her sleep was troubled, and she woke with a start when the matron roused
her.

"You must dress at once. Some gentlemen are waiting to see you."

"Waiting to see me? Who are they?" she asked. Her nerves were still
quivering, but her voice was steady and her face composed.

The matron had received her instructions. "I don't know who they are,"
she repli