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Updated: May 3, 2025
It would take a thousand men to search the wood anything like thoroughly." "There's some sort of house on the estate, I suppose?" demanded Foyle. "Yes, I've not been up to it, but I'm told it's a big, rambling old place called Dalehurst Grange, approached through sloping meadows and backing on to the woods.
He sauntered through Dalehurst, stopping at a little general store to buy some tobacco and gather more gossip. The village shop invariably focuses village gossip.
Perhaps your housekeeper will get us some breakfast while one of the girls runs into Dalehurst." While waiting for a reply, he rang the bell and gave some directions, with a note to the housekeeper. The breakfast that she ultimately served up was a credit to her skill as a cook.
You obviously held the key to the mystery. "We found out that you had met Lady Eileen, and driven to Kingston not by shadowing, for our man failed there but by getting hold of the cabman who drove you. With the aid of the provincial police, we were able to trace you to Dalehurst Grange. I feared that you might be on the alert for any step taken by Mr.
Presently he rose, turned over the leaves of a time-table, and discovering that Dalehurst possessed no railway station, discarded it in favour of a gazetteer. From that he found that the village was four miles from Deepnook, and the time-table again consulted showed him that he could reach the latter place in a couple of hours from Waterloo.
I got a wire from him at last fixing Dalehurst Grange, and knowing that the stations would be watched, I determined to motor down. "This explanation should make the things clear you do not already know, L.P." Heldon Foyle finished reading, and there was a moment's silence, broken at last by a gasp from Grell. "It was she, then, not not " "Not Lady Eileen Meredith," interrupted Foyle.
Dalehurst Grange was, of course, a rendezvous, and the Princess Petrovska was on her way to join Grell. The superintendent rubbed his hands together as he thought of the surprise in store for her. Dawn was breaking over the woods when Robert Grell woke with a shiver. He stood up and stretched himself. "Good morning, Mr. Foyle," he said genially.
For the brief portion of the way a keeper's path facilitated his progress, but at last he was forced to abandon this and return to the wilder portion of the wood. He was making a detour which he hoped would lead him to the back of Dalehurst Grange.
"By the way," he went on, with an air of one faintly curious, "didn't Mr. Grell, who was murdered in London, have some property this way? Dalehurst Grange or something? I suppose you never saw him?" "That I 'ave," asserted the porter, eager to associate himself, however remotely, with the tragedy. "I've seen him time and again.
The detective took out and unfolded the wire. He read "Mrs. Ellis, Dalehurst Grange, Dalehurst. There has been mistake of identity. Am safe and well. Shall be down this evening, but time uncertain. Please have room ready. Let no one know you have heard from me. Burn this. The detective refolded the telegram and placed it in his waistcoat pocket.
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