st.

"What I want now," he went on slowly, "is an explanation of how you came
to have possession of these."

He held up the thing he had picked from the floor. It was a case of blue
Morocco leather, and as he opened it a magnificent string of pearls
showed startlingly white against a dark background.

"These pearls were bought at Streeters' by Mr. Grell as a wedding
present to Lady Eileen Meredith," he said. "How do they come in your
possession?"

"They were given to me by Mr. Grell," cried Ivan. The fierce passion
that had made him attack Foyle on the hint of arrest seemed to have
melted away.

Heldon Foyle's mask of a face showed no sign of the incredulity he felt.
He made no comment, but ran his hands swiftly through the Russian's
pockets, piling money, keys, watch, and other articles in a little heap
on the table. Beyond a single letter there were no documents on the man.
He scanned the missive quickly. It was an ordinary commonplace note from
a jeweller in Paris, addressed to Ivan Abramovitch. This he placed
aside.

"May as well have his finger-prints," he said, and one of the officers
present pressed Ivan's hands on a piece of inky tin, and then on a
piece of paper. The superintendent glanced casually at the impression.

"All right," he said. "Take those handcuffs off. You may go, Mr.
Abramovitch."

The Russian stood motionless, as though not understanding. Foyle wheeled
about as though the whole matter had been dismissed from his mind, and
caught Norman by the sleeve.

"Drop everything," he said in a curt whisper. "Take a couple of men and
don't let that man out of your sight for an instant. I'll have you
relieved from the Yard in an hour's time."

"Aren't you going to charge him, sir?" asked the other in astonishment.

"Not likely," said Foyle, with a laugh.

CHAPTER XII

Heldon Foyle walked thoughtfully back to Scotland Yard, satisfied that
the shadowing of Ivan Abramovitch was in competent hands. With the
strong man's confidence in himself, he had no fears as to his decision
to release the man. He was beginning to have a shadowy idea of the
relation of pieces in his jig-saw puzzle. Ivan, he knew, ought to have
been arrested if only for failing to give a satisfactory account of his
possession of the pearl necklace. But the superintendent had, as he
mentally phrased it, "tied a string to him," and it would not be his
fault if nothing resulted.

It was well after midnight before he had