“Is that you, Archie?” said Mollie.  “Yes!  Mollie speaking.  No, please listen, Archie!  You can get to know everything at the Foreign office, and I want you to find out for me the private address of Chief Inspector Kerry, who is in charge of the Bond Street murder case.  Don’t be silly!  I’ve asked Scotland Yard, but they won’t tell me.  You can find out. . . .  It doesn’t matter why I want to know. . . .  Just ring me up and tell me.  I must know in half an hour.  Yes, I shall be seeing you tonight.  Good-bye. . . .”

Less than half an hour later, the obedient Archie rang up, and Mollie, all excitement, wrote the following address in a dainty scented notebook which she carried in her handbag.

    Chief inspector Kerry,
    67 Spenser Road, Brixton.

CHAPTER XXVII

CROWN EVIDENCE

The appearance of the violet-enamelled motor brougham upholstered in cream, and driven by a chauffeur in a violet and cream livery, created some slight sensation in Spenser Road, S.E.  Mollie Gretna’s conspicuous car was familiar enough to residents in the West End of London, but to lower middle-class suburbia it came as something of a shock.  More than one window curtain moved suspiciously, suggesting a hidden but watchful presence, when the glittering vehicle stopped before the gate of number 67; and the lady at number 68 seized an evidently rare opportunity to come out and polish her letter-box.

She was rewarded by an unobstructed view of the smartest woman in London (thus spake society paragraphers) and of the most expensive set of furs in Europe, also of a perfectly gowned slim figure.  Of Mollie’s disdainful face, with its slightly uptilted nose, she had no more than a glimpse.

A neat maid, evidently Scotch, admitted the dazzling visitor to number 67; and Spenser Road waited and wondered.  It was something to do with the Bond Street murder!  Small girls appeared from doorways suddenly opened and darted off to advise less-watchful neighbors.

Kerry, who had been at work until close upon dawn in the mysterious underworld of Soho was sleeping, but Mrs. Kerry received Mollie in a formal little drawing-room, which, unlike the cosy, homely dining-room, possessed that frigid atmosphere which belongs to uninhabited apartments.  In a rather handsome cabinet were a number of trophies associated with the detective’s successful cases.  The cabinet itself was a present from a Regent Street firm for whom Kerry had recovered valuable property.

Mary Kerry, dressed in a plain blouse and skirt, exhibited no trace of nervousness in the presence of her aristocratic and fashionable caller.  Indeed, Mollie afterwards declared that “she was quite a ladylike person.  But rather tin tabernacley, my dear.”

“Did ye wish to see Chief Inspector Kerry parteecularly?” asked Mary, watching her visitor with calm, observant eyes.