ed.

When Sir Ralph Fairfield returned to his chambers, he found Heldon Foyle
seated before the fire engrossed in a paper and with his feet stretched
out to the cheerful blaze.

"Good morning, Sir Ralph," said the detective, rising. "I just dropped
in as I was near here to tell you how things were progressing, and to
see if you'd got any news."

CHAPTER XLII

But that his breath came a little faster, Fairfield gave no sign of the
perturbation that Heldon Foyle's presence caused him. That the summons
to Scotland Yard had been a pretext to get him out of the way was now
obvious. The only question was whether Roberts had divulged anything to
the detective during his absence.

It was quite impossible to allow Grell's visit to him to be used in the
investigation. That was not in the bargain with Foyle. Innocent or
guilty, his friend had trusted him, and to use that trust to hound him
down would savour of treachery. There was no doubt that Foyle knew
something. He wondered how much.

He returned his visitor's greeting. "Always glad to see you, Mr. Foyle,
though I'm afraid there's nothing fresh so far as I am concerned. I see
my man's made you comfortable. There's been a mistake somewhere. I've
been to Scotland Yard waiting for you."

His head was in the shadow and Foyle could not see his face. He could
not be sure whether the words were a challenge, and made a little
gesture with his hand.

"That's a pity," he said. "Things have got muddled up somehow. However,
now we're here it's all right. By the way, we narrowly missed laying our
hands on Grell an hour or two ago."

Although he was staring placidly into the fire he did not fail to note
the quick start that the baronet gave. And it was not a feigned start.
Fairfield could not understand this indirect method of attack.

"What!" he stammered. "You nearly arrested him?"

"It was touch and go," said Foyle languidly. "Some of our men got on his
trail and followed him until he reached here. They never saw him come
out."

"Do you mean to say that Grell has been here--here to-day?" demanded
Fairfield, putting as bold a face on the matter as was possible.

"I do," said Foyle quietly.

"Without my knowledge?"

Heldon Foyle shook his head, and thrusting his hands into his jacket
pockets faced the baronet squarely. "That's what I want to know. Was it
without your knowledge, Sir Ralph?"

Fairfield met that searching gaze unflinchingly. There was a touch of