an
action for malicious prosecution."

"And about Grell? How do you propose to find him?"

Foyle drew his chair up to the table and scribbled busily for a few
minutes on a sheet of paper. He carefully blotted it, and handed the
result of his labours to Sir Hilary, who nodded approval as he read it.

"You think we shall catch one man by advertising for another?"

"I think it worth trying, sir," retorted the superintendent curtly. "The
description and the photograph fit like a glove--and we shan't be
giving anything away."

As Heldon Foyle passed through the little back door leading to the
courtyard of Scotland Yard an hour later, he stopped for an instant to
study a poster that was being placed among the notices on the board in
the door. It ran:

POLICE NOTICE.

L100 REWARD

HARRY GOLDENBURG, alias THE HON. RUPERT BAXTER, MAX SMITH, JOHN
BROOKS, etc.

Wanted For
MURDER.

DESCRIPTION.--Age, about 45; height, about 6 ft. 1 in.; complexion,
bronzed; square features; grey hair; drooping grey moustache;
upright carriage.

NOTE.--Henry Goldenburg has travelled extensively, and is an
American by birth, but his accent is almost imperceptible. He
speaks several languages, and has resided in Paris, Madrid, and
Rome.

The above Reward will be paid to any person (other than a member of
any Police force in the United Kingdom) who gives such information
as will lead to the apprehension of the above-named person.

The superintendent had wasted no time.

CHAPTER VII

The first grey daylight had found Sir Ralph Fairfield pacing his
sitting-room with uneven strides, his hands clasped behind his back, the
stump of a cold cigar between his teeth. His interview with Heldon Foyle
had not been calculated to calm him.

"I'm a fool--a fool," he told himself. "Why should they suspect me? What
have I to gain by Grell's death?"

It was the attitude of a man trying to convince himself. There was one
reason why he might be supposed to wish his friend out of the way, but
he dared not even shape the thought. There was one person who might
guess, and it was she whose lips he hoped to seal. A quick dread came to
him. Suppose the police had already gone to her. The thought stung him
to action. He had not even removed his hat and coat since his return
from Grosvenor Gardens. He made his way to the street and walked briskly
along until he sighted