motor-bus and selected a seat on top, with his brain still revolving the events of the morning. Once he took out a pencil and drafted a description of Grell's appearance and dress as Roberts had seen him. As a matter of course, he intended that to be telegraphed and telephoned to his men all over London. It was as well not to neglect any precaution.
He was passing through the little back door which leads to the quarters of the C.I.D. when he came face to face with a young man bearing all the appearance of a clerk who was just passing out. "Hello, Phillips!" he exclaimed. "You've been after Lady Eileen, haven't you? What luck did you have?"
"I've just reported to Mr. Green, sir," was the answer. "She walked to the Metropolitan and Provincial Bank and took a taxi when she came out. I followed in another cab, but my man punctured a tyre in the Strand and I missed her."
Foyle frowned and gripped the man's arm. "Come upstairs with me and tell me all about it. What number was her taxi?"
"County Council LD 6132, police 28,293. Mr. Green has got the name of the driver from the Public Carriage Department, and I was just going out to see if I could get hold of him."
"Right; you get along, then. And don't forget that if you miss people like that again, accident or no accident, there'll be trouble."
Green was waiting for his chief. A question elicited the steps he had taken to get hold of the driver of the cab, from whom some account of Lady Eileen's movements might be expected. An all-station message had
been flashed out, asking that the cab, wherever it was sighted, should be sent, unless still carrying a passenger, to Scotland Yard. There was little chance of the driver neglecting to obey the summons.
"It's unlucky that our man failed to keep her in sight," said Foyle. "I'll bet a hundred to one that she's arranged to meet Grell somewhere. However, there's nothing to do now but to wait. Just look here, Green. Here is something I picked out of the lady's fire. Help me and we'll see if we can reconstruct the entire message."
He laid his pocket-book containing the string of disconnected words on the desk as he spoke. The two bent over them.