"h.e.l.lo, Green," said the superintendent cheerfully. "You've got 'em all away, I see. How long have I been lying here?"

"Matter of half an hour. It's only a case of loss of blood, I think. You must have been bleeding for some time before we broke in on the tea-party. We put some first-aid bandages on."

"I'm all right," said Foyle, rising stiffly. "What happened? You were a deuce of a time answering my whistle."

"We tried the wrong door first, and it's my belief that nothing short of dynamite would move it. It's steel-lined, and with all the bolts pushed home we stood no chance. We gave it up after awhile and tried the other.

Luckily that was not bolted."

"I know. I left it like that purposely."

"Well, we didn't know. By that time we got thirty uniform men down here, and they followed us up. Once we got the door down and found the chap you'd trussed behind it, we had no trouble worth mentioning except with Master Ivan, who fought like a wild cat. We got the cuffs on him at last, but even then it took four men to get him away. Penny is down at the station waiting till you come before charging 'em. What is it to be?

Attempt to murder?"

"No, I don't think we can get a conviction on that," answered Foyle.

"There's plenty up against them--unlawful wounding, a.s.saulting a police officer in the execution of his duty, frequenting a gaming-house, and, of course, Ivan could be charged with the Waverley affair if we find it necessary now. I see you've started running over the house."

"Only just started. We are waiting for the divisional surgeon to see to you and three men who are sleeping like logs in the opium-joint upstairs. The Chinaman seems to have vanished--at any rate, he can't be found. It's just about time this place was broken up. Keller took no chances with the bank." He picked up the faro-box. "Now, in the States this kind of thing would not go. It's a two-card needle-tell swindle."

"That's done with fifty-four cards to the pack, isn't it?" asked Foyle indifferently, handling the box. "I've seen something like it before.

The dealer is warned of the approach of duplicate cards by a tiny needle-point jumping out of one side of the box."

"That's it."

"Well, all that will have to be explained when the case comes on for trial. I'm more interested in Ivan just now. It's something to have him under lock and key. I'll leave you here to handle the remainder of the business and get down to the station. No--I'll not wait for the doctor.

I feel perfectly fit now."

In spite of his a.s.sertion the superintendent felt a little dizzy when he reached the open air. A big crowd filled the street, and a dozen reporters who had been held sternly at bay by the constables on duty at the gambling-house pounced on him determinedly. He laughingly waved them aside, but they would not be denied, and while they walked at his side gave a succinct account of what had happened, omitting all reference to Ivan Abramovitch.

"New thing for you to come all the way to the East End to take charge of a gambling raid, isn't it?" asked Jerrold, the _Wire_ man, in a tone that told of a shrewd suspicion of something underlying.

"Oh, it's been an experience," said Foyle lightly, indicating his bandaged head. "I've told you everything I know now, boys. If there's anything else you can use, I'll have it at the Yard presently. So-long."

The journalists melted away, and Foyle presently found himself in a dingy back street where the local police station was situated. Here also a crowd of men and women had gathered, and the reserve men at the door were repelling eager women who, not knowing who had been taken in the raid, feared that their husbands might be included and were anxious to know the worst; for news of that kind spreads rapidly.

A motor-car standing without told the superintendent of Sir Hilary Thornton's presence. And the a.s.sistant Commissioner was the first person he saw as he entered the place. Thornton came forward with hand outstretched.

"Thank G.o.d, Foyle! We had a rumour at the Yard that you had been badly hurt. I see you've been knocked about a bit. What made you take a hand yourself down here? Couldn't you leave a raid to be carried out by the local folk?"

"I didn't come down here specially for that reason," smiled the superintendent. "I wanted to get hold of Ivan Abramovitch, and everything else was purely incidental."

"They're waiting for you to settle who shall be charged with what," said Thornton. "Be as quick as you can, and I'll wait and give you a lift back in the car. I'll not be happy till I've heard all about this."

The two pa.s.sed into the charge-room, where Penny was in conversation with the superintendent of the division. In reply to a question, he thought for a little.

"We've got eighteen men in all, sir," he answered. "It would have been fifty if we'd been able to bring our coup off at night."

"Very well. Have 'em all in except Abramovitch and Keller. I will pick out those I want charged with a.s.sault, or who I think were mixed up with Keller. The remainder might be let out on bail after you have verified their addresses."

The prisoners were ushered into the room, a shame-faced, sullen, dispirited gang now. Penny and a clerk pa.s.sed along the line, taking their names, while Foyle scrutinised their faces. Finally, the superintendent touched four men on the shoulder one after the other. One was Jim, the door-keeper; another the red-haired man with the big chest; the third and fourth two men who had been prominent in the attack. Penny put a tick against their names, and the whole of the prisoners, many of whom had broken into voluble protest and appeal, were taken back to the cells. Foyle had determined to leave the business of charging them to Green and Penny.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX

Something of the chagrin caused to Heldon Foyle by the escape of the man on the barge had vanished with the success of his operations in Smike Street. If his frontal attack had failed, he had at least achieved something by his flank movement. The break-up of the gambling-den, too, was something. Altogether he felt that his injuries were a cheap price to pay for what had been achieved.

In bare detail he related the sequence of events to Sir Hilary Thornton, who, with a gloved hand jerking at his grey moustache, listened with only an occasional observation.

The inevitable crowd of journalists, who had been warned by telephone from their colleagues at Smike Street, were jumbled in a tiny, tiny waiting-room when Foyle and his superior reached headquarters. The superintendent, having changed his attire, made it his first business to satisfy their clamorous demands by dictating a brief and discreet account of the raid, to be typed and handed out to them, then with a head that ached intolerably he forced himself to do some clear thinking.

With the dossier of the case before him, he read and re-read all that had been gathered by his men and himself since that night when he had been called from his sleep to find Harry Goldenburg dead. Was there some point he had overlooked? He knew how fatal it was in the work of criminal investigation to take anything for granted. Although the main work of the explorer was now focused on Grell, it was not entirely certain that he was the murderer. Indeed, strange as his proceedings had been, there might be some explanation that would account for them. It might be that after Grell was found the whole investigation would have to begin again with the scent grown cold. Stranger things had happened.

The superintendent dropped his papers wearily into a drawer and turned the key. His speculations were unprofitable. He turned over in his brain his plans for running down Grell. Of the people who had been a.s.sisting him to evade capture three were out of the way for the time being. Ivan Abramovitch and Condit were safely under lock and key. The Princess Petrovska was out of London, and there was a fair margin of a.s.sumption that she was located somewhere in Liverpool, where the local police were a.s.sisting the Scotland Yard men. It was hardly possible that she would double back, even if she evaded their rigorous search. With the detectives on duty at the London termini reinforced and on strict watch, her chances of doing so were very slim.

With three of his friends out of touch, and hampered by want of money, Grell would have to seek a fresh refuge. The chief result of Foyle's actions had been to make any steps he might take more difficult. That was all. It was still possible for him to dodge the pursuit.

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.

"h.e.l.lo!" 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. n.o.body hurt much, I suppose?"

The saturnine features of the inspector wrinkled into as near a grin as they were capable of. "Some of them are rather sore, but the doctor thinks they can all appear in court to-morrow."

Foyle stretched himself and rose. "Right. We won't worry any further about it for the moment. I'm feeling that the best thing for me is a good night's rest. You'd better go home and do the same. Good night."

CHAPTER XL

A note came to Sir Ralph Fairfield while he was lingering over his breakfast, and the first sight of the writing, even before he broke open the envelope, caused a thrill to run through him.

"You must see me at once," said the well-remembered writing imperatively. "Urgent, urgent!"