ad not
brought his companion on the train with him.

"Smoke, if you like," she said, with a gracious wave of her hand. "I
know you are dying to do so. Then we can talk. Do you know, I have long
wished to have a talk with a real detective. Your work must be so
fascinating."

He took a cigarette case slowly from his pocket, and dangled it in his
hand. He had never before seen the Princess, but he was certain of her
identity.

"Indeed," he said grimly. "I thought you had met Mr. Foyle. In fact, I
believe that he afforded you some opportunity of seeing a portion of the
workings of our police system. Do you smoke? May I offer you a
cigarette?"

She selected one daintily.

"Thank you. But that was different. I don't think it quite nice of you
to refer to it. It was all a mistake. Mr. Foyle will tell you so, if
you ask him. Do detectives often make mistakes?"

Her air of refreshing innocence tickled Blake. He laughed.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "I made a mistake just now in coming on this
train alone."

She laughed musically in pure amusement.

"I believe the man is afraid of me," she said, addressing the ceiling.
Then more directly, "Why, what harm could a poor creature like myself do
to a great stalwart man like you? I should have thought you'd greater
sense."

"Common sense is my strong point," he parried.

"And therefore you are afraid," she laughed. "Come--Mr.--Mr.----"

"Smith--John Smith."

"Mr. John Smith, then. It's a good English name. I shan't do you any
harm. But if you like to lose sight of me when we reach Liverpool----"

"Well?"

"It would be worth L50 to you."

He shook his head. "I am afraid, Princess, you have a very poor opinion
of the London police. Besides, I told you just now that common sense was
my strong point."

She shrugged her shoulders for answer. The train droned on. They had
lunch together and chatted on like old friends. It was when they had
returned to their own compartment, and the train was nearing Liverpool,
that Blake found his cigarettes had run short. The Princess produced a
daintily-jewelled enamelled case.

"Won't you try one of mine?" she asked. "That is, if you care for
Egyptian."

He took one. What harm would there be in a cigarette? Yet, in half an
hour's time, when the train slowed into Lime Street Station, the
Princess descended to the platform alone. In his corner of the
compartment Blake slumbered stertorously.

CHAPTER XXXIII

Heldon Foyle