The evening papers with the story of the raid were already upon the streets. What would be the effect
upon Grell's plans when he learned that Ivan had been captured? In the case of an ordinary criminal, Heldon Foyle might have forecasted what would happen with a fair degree of certainty. But Grell was not an ordinary criminal, even if he were a criminal at all. If he could gain a hint of the possible intentions of the fugitive he might be able to meet them.
There was a vague chance that either Ivan Abramovitch or Condit might be induced to volunteer a statement, although the possibility was remote. In America or France there would have been ways of forcing them to speak. In England it was impossible.
With a yawn Foyle relinquished his efforts, and his head dropped forward on his desk. In a little he was fast asleep. He was roused by a light touch on the shoulder. Green had returned.
"Hello!" said the superintendent. "I must have dozed off. How have you got on?"
Green adjusted his long body to the comfort of an arm-chair. "We found the Chinaman. He'd climbed through a trap-door on to the roof. We went over the house with a tooth-comb, both before and after I'd had a little talk with Keller. It seems that both he and his partner the Chinaman had known the man for some time before they gave him a room. They're old hands at the game and won't talk too much. He went out very occasionally, and mostly at night. We found nothing bearing on the murder, but plenty to show that Keller and his pal were running a pretty hot shop."
"H'm! could you dig anything out of any of the others? There was the door-keeper."
"No. Tight as oysters, all except those who don't
know anything. Ivan has a fit of the sulks. He's called in Mordix to help him fix up his defence."
The superintendent was rubbing his chin. "Mordix isn't too scrupulous. I think we'll hold over the charge of abduction for the time being until we see how things look. Nobody hurt much, I suppose?"