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J. S. Fletcher
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 228 pages of information about The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation.

“The Princess Nastirsevitch is on her way now,” said Fullaway.  He pulled out his pocket-book, and began searching amongst its papers.  “Here you are,” he continued producing a cablegram.  “That’s from the Princess—­you see she says she’s leaving for London at once, via Berlin and Calais, and will call upon me at my hotel as soon as she arrives.  Now, that was sent off two days ago—­she’d leave St. Petersburg that night.  It’s seventy-two hours’ journey—­three days.  She’ll be in London tomorrow evening.”

The chief sat down at his desk and picked up a pen.

“Give me your addresses please, all of you,” he said.  “Then I can communicate with you at any moment.  Miss Lennard, you mentioned Bedford Court Mansions.  What number?  Right.—­yours, Mr. Fullaway, is the Waldorf Hotel—­permanently there?  Very good.  You, Mr. Allerdyke, live in Bradford?  It will be advisable, if you really want to clear up the mystery of your cousin’s death, to remain in town for a few days, at any rate—­now that we’ve got all this in hand, you’d better be close to the centre of things.  Can you give me an address here?”

“I’ve a London office,” answered Allerdyke.  “I can always be heard of there when I’m in town.  Allerdyke and Partners, Limited, Gresham Street—­ask for Mr. Marshall Allerdyke.  But as I’ll have to put up here, I’ll go to the Waldorf, with Mr. Fullaway, so if you want me you’ll find me there.  And look here,” he went on, as the chief noted these particulars, “I want to know, to have some idea, you know, of what’s going to be done.  I tell you, I’ll spare no time, labour, or expense in getting at the bottom of this!  If it’s a question of money, say the word, and—­”

“All right, Mr. Allerdyke, leave it to us—­for the present,” said the chief, with an understanding smile.  “I know what you mean.  We’re only beginning.  This affair is doubtless a big thing, as Mr. Fullaway has suggested, and it will need some clever work.  Now, at present, this case—­the joint case of the Hull affair and the Eastbourne Terrace affair, for they’re without doubt both parts of one serious whole—­is in the hands of two of my best men.  This is one of them:  Detective-Sergeant Blindway.  If and when Blindway wants any of you, he’ll come to you.  Miss Lennard, you’ll be wanted at the inquest on your late maid—­the Coroner’s officer will let you know when.  You two gentlemen will doubtless go with Miss Lennard.  You’ll all three certainly be wanted at that adjourned inquest at Hull.  Now, that’s all—­except that when you, Miss Lennard, return home, you must at once begin searching for the references you had with your maid—­let me have them as soon as they’re found—­and that you, Mr. Fullaway, must bring the Princess Nastirsevitch here as soon as you can after her arrival.”

Outside New Scotland Yard Celia Lennard relieved her feelings with a fervent exclamation.

“I wish I’d never spent a penny on pearls or diamonds in my life!” she said vehemently.  “Insane folly!  What good have they done?  Leading to all this bother, and to murder.  What fools women are!  All that money thrown away!—­for of course I shall never see a sign of them again!”

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