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Updated: June 10, 2025
Unless our whole system of identification is wrong and that is incredible that man who lies dead there is not Robert Grell." Lomont reeled dizzily, and his hand sought the support of the wall. To him Foyle's voice sounded unreal. He stared at the detective as though doubtful of his sanity. His life had been hitherto ordered, placid.
Goatry, who had handed the horse over to the hostler, watched them coming. "Why did I never notice the likeness before?" Goatry said to himself. "But, gosh! what a difference in the men. Foyle's going to double cinch him this time, I guess." He followed them inside the hall of the Happy Land. When they stepped into the sitting-room, he stood at the door waiting.
Mostly works alone, too. I can't say that I know much about him. There's Charlie Eden, he was in with him once I guess he's in town. And Red Ike, he knew him, too. Perhaps there's some more of the boys who had some does with him. But he always was a bit above us common crooks. I only went for big game once," his gaze lingered on Foyle's ring, "and then it didn't come off." "Never mind about Eden.
Do you suspect a woman? He " He checked himself, and looked curiously at the detective. "Mr. Grell was a friend of mine," he went on more quietly. "Things are bad enough as they are, but you know that he had influential friends both here and in America. They won't thank you, Mr. Foyle, for trying to go into such things." Heldon Foyle's eyes lingered in quiet scrutiny on the other's face.
But he could not be oblivious to the twinkle in Foyle's eyes. "Women are the very devil," he said as if in answer. "There's no knowing what they'll do. Now, the young girl there wanted to run away with a man of fifty, who is already a married man. So her mother the old lady you saw kissing me brought her up here, evidently under the impression that we can do anything.
Common sense and superstition were both factors in his decision to suspend operations. He might as well spend his time, he decided, in trying to carry out Foyle's instructions. His intention took him to three public-houses as far apart as Islington, Blackfriars, and Whitechapel; at the latter place, in an ornate saloon bristling with gilt and glittering with mirrors, he found the man he wanted.
Door on left," he ejaculated nervously. The superintendent pushed by the man. He knew that the critical moment had come. With his quick judgment of men he had summed up Mr. Israels. Whatever the Jew's morals, it was evident that he had a wholesome respect for his own oily skin. He would not risk himself to save the neck of another man. Foyle's intentions were simple.
A pleasant-faced, buxom woman tapped at the door, and Lola eyed her with misgivings. Foyle's blue eyes were fixed on her face. "I am afraid I must deny myself that pleasure," he said suavely. "There are other matters which will take up our time. First, I shall be obliged if you will let the matron here search you."
He heard Foyle's voice. "It's with you to do what you ought to do. Of course you can kill me. My pistol's in my pocket. But I don't think you will. You've murdered one man. You won't load your soul up with another. Besides, if you kill me, you will never get away from Kowatin alive. But it's with you take your choice. It's me or you." Halbeck's fingers crept out and found the pistol.
"Have fifty copies of that made, and bring me one. Put some one to 'phone through to all the journalists on the list, asking 'em to call here at half-past six to-night. They're each to have a copy of that." There was guile in Foyle's fixing of the time. He knew that the paragraph would be a bombshell in Fleet Street, and did not want it to explode prematurely.
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