"I have sent for Mr. Grell. He will be here shortly. There is still some light that he may be disposed to throw on the affair--now. Meanwhile, if you do not object, I should like to have the statement you have just made put in writing. I will have a shorthand writer in and place this room at your disposal." She murmured some words of assent and he disappeared. In a few minutes he returned with one of the junior men of the C.I.D., who carried a reporter's notebook in one hand and a pencil in the other. Heldon Foyle strolled away to Sir Hilary Thornton's room. The Assistant Commissioner was just hanging up his overcoat. He turned quickly and held out his hand to the superintendent. "Congratulations, Foyle. I hear it's all plain sailing now. Come and tell me all about it." CHAPTER LV For ten minutes the two heads of the detective service of London were in conference. Then there was an interruption. The door was pulled open without any preliminary knock, and Chief-Inspector Green strode swiftly in, with Robert Grell at his heels. Both men were plainly stirred by some suppressed excitement. Green laid a note down in front of Foyle. "Petrovska has killed herself," he exclaimed. "The matron found her poisoned in her cell, a minute or so after I reached Malchester Row. There was poison in one of her rings. She left this letter addressed to you." "Ah!" There was no betrayal of astonishment or any other emotion in the superintendent's tone. He fingered the letter carelessly. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Grell? No doubt you'll excuse us for a moment. Sit down, Green." He tore open the letter and glanced over the neat, delicate handwriting. Thornton was leaning eagerly across the table. "A confession?" he asked. "Yes--a confession," he replied. "Shall I read it aloud?" His eyes rested for an instant on Robert Grell. "You may care to hear it," he added. "Go on," said Thornton. Foyle spread the sheets on the table in front of him and began to read in a steady, expressionless tone. "Heldon Foyle, Esq., Superintendent, C.I.D., New Scotland Yard, S.W.--Sir,--It would be futile, after what happened this morning, to dispute any longer the correctness of the conclusions you have come to. I killed Harry Goldenburg, and there is no need for any cant about repentance. He deserved all he got. As for myself, I was fool enough to step into a trap, and there is only one way out. I ought to have beaten you, but as I failed, it may interest you to know the bare facts. "Goldenburg was, as you guessed, my husband, though it was long since we had lived together. Before I met him, however, I had become acquainted with Mr. Grell--I think it was in Vienna. I was on the stage there, and had a circle of admirers, of whom he became one. Whether you believe it or not, I assure you, on the word of a dying woman, there was nothing harmful in our intimacy. But letters passed, and his I kept.