George signified his assent. The superintendent rang the bell. Tredwell answered it, and departed with his instructions.

He returned shortly accompanied by a tall fair man with high cheekbones, and very deep-set blue eyes, and an impassivity of countenance which almost rivalled Battle’s.

“Boris Anchoukoff?”

“Yes.”

“You were valet to Prince Michael?”

“I was His Highness’s valet, yes.”

The man spoke good English, though with a markedly harsh foreign accent.

“You know that your master was murdered last night?”