"We shall see. Can you prove where you were between 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. CHAPTER XXI To the constable who opened the cab door Foyle gave quick instructions in a low voice. The Princess Petrovska found herself ushered into a plainly furnished waiting room, decorated with half-a-dozen photographic enlargements of the portraits of high police officials and a photogravure of "Her Majesty the Baby." There the policeman left her. Foyle came to her a moment later. His couple of questions to the cabman as he paid him had not been fruitful. He had been ordered by the lady to drive to Waterloo Station. It was a fairly obvious ruse, which would have had the effect of effectually confusing her trail, for from there she might have taken train, tube, omnibus, tram, or cab again to about any point in London. "I am sorry," he apologised. "We shall have to keep you here for an hour or two while your statements are verified." "I don't mind," she countered lightly. "It will be an amusing experience. I have never seen a police station before. Perhaps you would like to show me over while we're waiting, Mr. Foyle." The superintendent was admiring her confidence a little ruefully. A pleasant-faced, buxom woman tapped at the door, and Lola eyed her with misgivings. Foyle's blue eyes were fixed on her face. "I am afraid I must deny myself that pleasure," he said suavely. "There are other matters which will take up our time. First, I shall be obliged if you will let the matron here search you." The nonchalance of the Princess Petrovska had disappeared in a flash, and Foyle noted her quick change of countenance. She had recollected she was carrying Lady Eileen Meredith's jewels. They would inevitably be found, if she were searched. She was not so much worried by what explanation she could give as to what would be the result of a questioning of Eileen. Angrily defiant, she was on her feet in a flash. "You have no right to search me. I am not under arrest," she declared.