"You are Mr. Heldon Foyle, of course," she said. "I have heard that you are very clever. I don't see what I can have had to do with the murder, even if I am Lola Rachael—which I admit."
"We shall see. Can you prove where you were be
tween ten o'clock, when you left the Palatial Hotel, and midnight on that date?"
She laughed merrily. "You are not so clever as I thought," she exclaimed. "Do you think that I am a murderess? I went straight to an hotel near Charing Cross—the Splendid—and caught the nine o'clock boat train to Paris. It is easily proved."
Foyle shifted to the seat opposite, so that he could see her face more easily.
"Then you don't deny that you visited Grosvenor Gardens that night, that you were admitted by Ivan Abramovitch, Grell's valet, and taken to his study?"
"Of course I do," she retorted laughingly. "If that's all you've got to go upon you may as well let me go now."
"Very well. We shall see," he answered.
The cab stopped at Malchester Row Police Station.