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Nor was he above working side-lines if they promised profit, and in that respect, at least, he resembled Dutch Fred. His abilities in many directions had been recognised by Harry Goldenburg. It was not till they had gone over to a little table in a remote corner that Dutch Fred broached Goldenburg's name, in a tentative reference to the murder in Grosvenor Gardens.

But on the few occasions we met afterwards I preserved a friendly attitude. I even helped him in certain affairs. "Then there came the time when Mr. Grell sought me out and paid me to attempt to recover his letters. I jumped at the chance, for apart from the money it seemed a fine opportunity to score off Goldenburg. I hadn't much difficulty in getting in touch with him when he reached London.

By the way, we understand that that dagger had belonged to Harry Goldenburg how came it to be lying about your room?" Grell shook his head. "That is a mistake. The dagger was mine. It is possible that he had a similar one." "Yes, that is possible. But in the event, the point does not matter much. What was more important was, that we had driven you out of a secure hiding-place.

I did not know it was from Goldenburg then, for it was unsigned, and both the address and the note itself were in typewriting. It was delivered by an express messenger. It said that the writer had something of importance affecting my future happiness to say to me, and that I could learn what it was by calling at Mr. Grell's house about ten.

"On the night that the murder occurred, I happened to be in the hall about nine or a little after, when I saw a man and a woman through the shaded glass standing on the steps outside. I opened the door before they could ring. For the moment I thought the man was Mr. Grell, but a second later I recognised Goldenburg. He did not remember me. The woman, too, I knew at once.

It was well after midnight before he had finished his work at Scotland Yard. He had had a long interview with the Garden of Eden, in which promises were adroitly mingled with threats. In the result the "bunco-steerer" had promised to keep his eyes and ears alert for news of any one resembling Goldenburg.

There is no use beating about the bush. Other people than Grell had written to me in the old days, and I had my own methods of forcing them to keep me silent. In plain words, a great part of my living was by blackmail, but I naturally acted very delicately. Harry Goldenburg wormed his way into my confidence, and it occurred to me that such a man would be an invaluable ally.

"According to Ivan, there was no blood on his clothes or on his hands a few minutes after Goldenburg was killed." "Well, this beats all," exclaimed Green. "I'm hanged if I understand!" Foyle lowered his voice to a whisper, and Green's saturnine face became a study as he listened. He gave a little gasp. "It lies between the three of them," said Foyle.

We've not got any proof that she knew Goldenburg. That's our great difficulty now to link up the various persons and find how they've been associated with each other before. There's one thing, sir. I've managed to get the inquest adjourned for a month, so we shan't have to make any premature disclosures in evidence. The newspapers are still hanging about.

We used the fact of the striking similarity of Grell and Goldenburg to advertise for the former under the name of the latter. The mere fact of throwing the description broadcast, was calculated to make any attempt to escape more difficult.