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We know that Grell is alive, that he is in touch with Ivan Abramovitch and Lola Rachael or the Princess Petrovska, as she calls herself. There is at least one other man in it probably more. It's fairly certain that Grell knows who killed Harry Goldenburg even if he didn't do it himself. Goldenburg was apparently dressed in Grell's clothes before he was killed.
Perhaps it was a deep decline after the splendours of my dreams, but I did not allow myself to think about that. I was near to Ilford and I could go to see Isabel every day. Isabel! Isabel! Isabel! Everything was Isabel, for now that Martin was gone my hopes and my fears, my love and my life, revolved on one axis only my child. My employer was a Polish Jew, named Israel Abramovitch.
I guess the driver thought I was drunk, and that they were my pals helping me home. "When I came round my head was bandaged up, and I was in quite a decent little room, lying on a couch, with Mr. Ivan Abramovitch sitting opposite to me. I couldn't give a guess where it was, for the window only looked out on a blank wall. I sat up, and he grinned at me. "'I am a police officer, I said.
This man, Ivan Abramovitch, must have known that he was followed by a couple of us, so he threw off Taylor, who was with me, very simply, by going into a big outfitter's place in the City. I dodged round to a second entrance and, sure enough, he came out there.
In this hive of industry I needed no spur to make me work. Every morning Mrs. Abramovitch brought up a thick pile of vests to my room, and every evening she took them down again, after counting my earnings with almost preternatural rapidity and paying me, day by day, with unfailing promptitude. At the end of my first week I found I had made ten shillings.
I heard the girl going slowly down the stairs, and then the Jew, stepping up to me and speaking more loudly than before, said: "Woman, leave my house at once, before you corrupt the conscience of my child." Again I became aware that some one had come into the room. It was Mrs. Abramovitch, and she, too, was pleading for me. "Israel! Calm thyself! Do not give way to injustice and anger.
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.
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, that you were admitted by Ivan Abramovitch, Grell's valet, and taken to his study?" "Of course I do," she retorted laughingly. "If that's all you've got to go upon you may as well let me go now." "Very well. We shall see," he answered.
Abramovitch pleading for me with her husband, saying they knew I was in trouble and therefore I ought to have more time to find lodging, another week three days at all events. But the stern-natured man with his rigid religion was inexorable. It was God's will that I should be punished, and who was he to step in between the All-high and his just retribution?
A big crowd filled the street, and a dozen reporters who had been held sternly at bay by the constables on duty at the gambling-house pounced on him determinedly. He laughingly waved them aside, but they would not be denied, and while they walked at his side gave a succinct account of what had happened, omitting all reference to Ivan Abramovitch.
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