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Updated: May 1, 2025
"We were determined to get out of the country, but the reward bill with a description of Goldenburg that pictured Grell stopped us trying ordinary methods. It was necessary to raise money, and I, recklessly enough I suppose, went out with the pearls which Mr.
"He's in bad shape, though, with the things the bullet carried into him, but we sure swabbed him out. How'd the game go to-night, boys?" "Purty good." Buck shook his head. "Tammer sure had luck his way won a seventy-dollar pot onct." "I sure wanted to play," Grell shook his head, "but in my profession you aren't your own, and you cayn't quit." "We owe you for it," Buck said. "He's our friend "
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.
Petrovska may have drawn the curtains and slipped away before Grell returned. She is a woman of nerve and would at once set about manufacturing an alibi." "All this is very ingenious, Foyle," remarked Thornton, "but I don't know that it sounds altogether convincing to me." "It is pure surmise, Sir Hilary. Its chief merit is that it fits the facts.
Grell, too, was wondering whether he was fitted for domestic life. He had a taste for introspection, and was speculating how far the joyous girl who had confided her heart to his keeping would fit in with the scheme of things. He roused himself with an effort and glanced at his watch. It was half-past nine. "You make a mistake, Fairfield," he laughed.
"The maids didn't know I was in the place. It's all right, Mrs. Ellis. I'll just have a chat with this gentleman. Don't you worry." He closed the door as he spoke. Foyle's right hand was resting in his jacket pocket. "I may as well tell you, Mr. Grell," he said, "that I am armed. If you make any attempt at resistance " "You will not dare to shoot," ejaculated Grell smilingly. "Oh, I know.
Two hours later a wild-eyed, breathless servant bareheaded in the pouring rain, was stammering incoherently to a police-constable in Grosvenor Gardens that Mr. Robert Grell had been found murdered in his study. The shattering ring of the telephone awoke Heldon Foyle with a start.
"It was through Grell that I got away scot-free. No one suspected the valet of so well-known a man. He asked no questions, though I could tell that he knew what what I knew. He risked much to shield me, although never a word passed between us. Could I do less when it came to my turn? I came back to England with him, and I remained his personal servant. I kept my distance from the other servants."
The valet wheeled about and thrust his face close to the immobile face of the detective. "You've arrested Mr. Grell?" he cried. "Are you lying?" "I am not lying. He is in custody and may be charged unless you like to clear him." Ivan took a couple of short steps. His lips were firmly pressed together. The detective watched him narrowly as he came to an abrupt halt.
As he spoke, Thornton's voice changed. He leapt to his feet and brought his fist down vehemently on the desk. "I don't believe it, man!" he cried. "I don't believe it! It's incredible. You've made a mistake. It can't be. Why, you've believed it was Grell yourself all along. If you've made a mistake, then why not now?" Foyle's chin became a trifle aggressive.
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