The Grell Mystery Part 42

Whatever was taking place was no business of mine. I must have dozed off in my chair, for when I was awakened by Mr. Grell shaking me by the shoulder, he was white and quite collected.

"'Ivan,' he said, 'there's been murder. Come with me. Don't speak, and tread softly.'

"I followed him into the study. All the lights were out, and before turning them up he locked the door. As he turned the switch I could see the body lying on the couch, and drew back. 'Who is it?' I asked.

"'Goldenburg,' he replied. And after a pause: 'He was a relative of mine. I have killed him. You must help me to get away, Ivan.'

"He seemed profoundly moved and yet held himself strongly in hand. One thing I noticed. Although he said he had done it, his hands and clothes were spotless. And yet there had been much blood about the room. I said nothing of that, and he quickly began to turn things out of his pockets.

Both he and the dead man were in evening dress, and he hastily transferred all his property to the dead man's pockets, taking what Goldenburg possessed. He picked up the sheath of the dagger from the floor. It was one he had bought in South America.

"'It will give us a chance to get well clear if they think that this is my body,' he explained. 'Go and pack a bag, Ivan.'

"When I got back with the bag, he had finished. He put on a hat and overcoat and we went out, walked to Victoria Station, and from there took a taxicab to Charing Cross. From there we walked to an all-night Turkish bath establishment, and that gave us an opportunity to change into some rough tweeds that I'd shoved in the bag. In the morning we went to the East End and fixed up rooms with some people I knew of. We had come away without any money, but Grell somehow managed to get in touch with the Princess Petrovska, with whom, apparently, he had some arrangement. She had, it seems, booked through to Paris from Charing Cross, but instead of getting on the boat at Folkestone had returned by the next train and taken quiet lodgings at Kennington. That was to put you on a false track in case of accidents."

Foyle smiled a little ruefully. "So that was how it was done," he remarked.

"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. Grell had entrusted to me, in the hope of meeting a jeweller, with whom I had a casual acquaintance, at the restaurant, when you fell in with me. The jeweller's letter which you found on me was, by the way, a forgery.

"When you seized me I was taken by surprise. When I was allowed to go, after you had told me that the dead man was not Grell, I felt certain that you would have me followed. Your men were very clever, and I could not shake 'em off at first. I was determined to go to any length to protect Grell, so I went into an outfitter's where there was a public telephone, and put a call to a place where I was sure to find Condit. I fixed up with him to wait for the man who was shadowing me, and I led him down to Whitechapel. It was simple enough for Condit to drop on him from behind, and then the two of us knocked him senseless, got him into a cab, and carried him away to Smike Street--to the place which you raided.

"Mr. Grell knew nothing about that incident till it was over. He was staying in Grave Street at the time, and the idea occurred to me of holding your man as a hostage. We meanwhile contrived to send a note to Sir Ralph Fairfield. In case of accidents, I was to meet him in Grave Street and lead him round about till I was certain he was not followed."

"Then you were the black-bearded man who fired at me!" exclaimed Foyle.

"I might have guessed it."

"And so you were the navvy!" said Ivan. "I didn't know that, but I at once made up my mind it was dangerous to meddle with Fairfield if he was watched. I gave him the slip, went back to Mr. Grell, and typed out a note to you. You got it?"

"Yes. I got it. Where did the paper you used come from?"

Ivan's brow contracted into a frown of deep thought. "I forget--no--I got it from Mr. Grell. He tore off a half-sheet from a letter."

Foyle was thinking of the finger-prints he had found on that notepaper.

Ivan plunged again into his narrative. "After that the Princess came, and Condit. She had fixed up an arrangement with the people living in the house that they were to declare her their daughter if inquiries were made. I don't know if she slept there after, but she did that night. We worked out a cipher in order to attempt to communicate secretly with either Sir Ralph Fairfield or Lady Eileen Meredith. As I have said, the lack of money was our trouble, and we had to get some--somehow. Condit went away, and I persuaded Mr. Grell to go with him and spend the night at a gambling-joint in Smike Street. I remained. You see, we guessed you might want to examine the house, but we weren't certain. We were right.

As you know, I only got away over the roofs just in time, and the Princess slipped away while you were engaged.

"After that it was a game of hide-and-seek. We decided that it was too dangerous to keep your detective a prisoner, and sent him back in a motor-car we hired. It was easy enough to make a false number to slip over the real one, so that it couldn't be traced.

"It was my idea after that that Mr. Grell should become a watchman on the river until we could get away by embarking before the mast. We tried the advertis.e.m.e.nt method of communication and failed.

"The Princess undertook to see Lady Eileen--with what result you know.

You know all that has happened since. I do not regret what I have done.

If the killing of you or any other man would have saved Grell, I would not have hesitated."

"Thanks," said Foyle drily. "You had a good try more than once. Now, are you willing to have your statement taken down by a shorthand writer--so far as it refers to events in London?"

"I'll repeat it when you like," answered Ivan, squaring his shoulders.

"Now you say that you want to prove Mr. Grell's innocent I have nothing to hide. For I am certain that he is innocent."

"Tell me one other thing," said the superintendent. "What is the a.s.sociation between Petrovska and Grell? Why should she have taken part in this business?"

Ivan spread out his white hands. "That you must find out either from Mr.

Grell or her. I don't know."

Foyle drew out his watch. "All right, Ivan. I'll see you again shortly.

Meanwhile, I'll send some one along to get your statement. I don't think you'll regret having decided to speak. Good-bye."

CHAPTER LI

Both Sir Hilary Thornton and Chief Inspector Green were waiting for Heldon Foyle when he returned to his office. The superintendent darted a question at the chief inspector as he flung off his overcoat.

"Yes, sir," answered Green. "She's at Malchester Row now. There was no trouble at all. She came up to the Grange at half-past three, in a car, and asked the maid who answered the door for Mrs. Ellis. The girl showed her into a sitting-room, acting on my instructions, and I walked in on her and told her I should detain her. She was angry at first, but in a moment or two she laughed, and asked if Mr. Grell was taken. That was all there was to it. I brought her back straight away by train. She seemed to treat it as a joke, but never a word about the case did she utter."

"And how did you get on, Foyle?" demanded the a.s.sistant Commissioner.

The superintendent plumped into a chair. "I am sending a man up to get a statement from Ivan," he said. "There's much to be said for that Russian if his story is true--and I couldn't see any holes in it."

He related particulars of the interview that had taken place in the cell. Neither Thornton nor Green spoke till he had finished. The a.s.sistant Commissioner smoothed his moustache, Green rubbed his head.

"Then Grell admitted the murder to Ivan?" said the latter, turning a puzzled face to Foyle. "You told me he was not the murderer."

"Nor was he," answered the superintendent. "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. "I am inclined to believe that we have been rather wrong in our first impressions of the finger-prints. But it never does to take chances. Suppose you go and take charge at Berkeley Square.

There are four men there already. Lady Eileen has certainly had something to do with this, and we don't want to lose sight of her."

Green went off, his lips puckered into a whistle. Thornton gave a shrug.

"And now?" he said. "It seems to me rather a deadlock if Mr. Grell and the Princess remain obstinate."

"Yes," agreed Foyle. "It's one of those cases in which it is a pity we're not allowed to adopt the French method of confrontation. Still, there's a shot in the locker yet. Perhaps you might care to come along with me and see Grell now. These disclosures of Ivan's make a difference, and rather bear out a suspicion I've had since I talked with Grell."

The a.s.sistant Commissioner agreed, and in a little they were walking to Malchester Row police station. The office of Bolt, the divisional detective-inspector, was empty, and with an order that they were not to be disturbed, Foyle and his chief entered the room. Under the escort of a uniformed inspector, Grell was brought in. The superintendent closed and locked the door, Grell moving stiffly aside to allow him to do so.

"Do you know Sir Hilary Thornton?" asked Foyle suavely.

Grell bowed. The a.s.sistant Commissioner extended his hand. "How do you do, Mr. Grell? I should have been glad to have met you under happier circ.u.mstances, but I a.s.sure you that the respect in which I have always held you is not lessened by this unfortunate business."

The prisoner shook hands doubtfully and his eyes flashed a questioning look upon Foyle. The superintendent's face was blandly unconscious of the effect of the a.s.sistant Commissioner's remark, although the words had been rehea.r.s.ed and revised a dozen times during their walk to the police station. But he had to do with a man as astute and ready as himself.

"That's very good of you, I'm sure," said Grell, and a smile illumined his face as he added: "Though I don't know why this matter should increase your respect."

"Don't you?" said Foyle, laying stress on his words and eyeing the other meaningly. "Suppose it is because since I left you this morning, Ivan Abramovitch has made a full statement to me?"

A little apprehensive shudder swept through Grell's frame. His lips opened to say something, but he checked himself suddenly. "What's that to do with me?" he demanded quietly.