They went out into the street. Solo hailed a taxi and gave the cabbie the Berwick Street address.
"Now," he said, when they were back in Blodwen's apartment, "perhaps you'll explain what you've been up to."
She went to the cabinet and poured drinks. "We're making progress," she said. "You were right about the medallion. It was a sensation. That's how I ended up in jail."
She handed Solo his glass, took her own and settled herself comfortably on the settee with the poodle in her lap.
"We got to the Gloriana around eight o'clock," she began. "The place was half-empty then. Just a couple of girls at the bar and a few customers at the tables. Dancer drifted over after a while and had a few words with Merle. If he recognized the medallion he didn't show it. He had a quick drink and then got on with his job. Apart from saying good-evening he didn't give me a tumble. Like I told you, the girls drift in and out and no questions asked.
"Anna only showed up once. She came into the room, looked around to see that everything was going smoothly and then went away again, presumably back to her office.
"The fun didn't start until half-past nine. That's when French Louse arrived. She was obviously as high as a kite, and once she got her beady eyes on the medallion she was fit to be tied. I'll skip the details, but her main complaint seemed to be that I had pinched her boyfriend, a character called Scalesi. She kept pushing his photograph under my nose and yelling at me in gutter French. And all the time she kept trying to grab the medallion.
"Merle tried to calm her down but it was like trying to plug a volcano with a medicine cork. In the end Dancer gave us both the old heave-ho out on to the cold hard sidewalk, and it was there the battle started. The boys in blue broke it up and the next thing you know, we're in the Black Maria and on the way to Bow Street."
She finished her drink and went to the cabinet for another. "I sent for you," she explained, "because I hoped you'd be in time to get a look at French Louise before they took us down to the cells. But that sergeant was to efficient. Now you'll have to wait until the morning when we come up before the judge." She raised her glass. "Here's to crime!"
"You've done a good job," Solo said. He stood up. "Now I'd better get out of here before I ruin your reputation."
"You must be joking," she retorted. "In this house you'd do it more good if you stayed the night."
He shook his head sadly. "You're showing a dedication to your work," he said, "that is beginning to disturb me."
"That's what Stanislavsky does for a gal. It's the Method."
"Well, don't get carried away. I'll see you in court in the morning."
Illya was waiting up in the hotel suite. He said, "New York came through with a message from I.D. They've checked on Anna. Her description ties up with an enterprising young woman called Anna Soo Lee, born 1934 in Shanghai. Soo Lee's father was a minor war lord. He joined up with Chiang Kai-shek and went to Formosa in 1949. For some reason Anna didn't go with him. She showed up briefly as a dancer in Singapore and in Sydney, Australia, and was next reported as the girlfriend of a polo-playing maharajah, complete with white Mercedes and all the trimmings. Something broke that up, but she came out of it with quite a stake. She arrived in Britain by air in 1960 and for some reason only known to herself settled down in Bute Town, Cardiff — the old 'Tiger Bay.' For the record, incidentally, Bute Town these days is as respectable as Poughkeepsie and a model of racial integration. The rough stuff went out with hobble skirts."
"That sounds like our Anna," Solo said. "How many times has she blotted her copybook?"
Illya frowned. "Never. That's the strange thing. You could say her career has been colorful but circumspect. She's never been within shouting distance of trouble officially. Yet somewhere along the line she has managed to get together a very considerable fortune - which is at least unusual for Shanghai dancehall girls."
"Maybe the maharajah was generous."
"Maybe. And there's also a story that he was one of the principals in an international gold smuggling ring operating out of Bombay. But like everything else connected with Anna Soo Lee, it's unproved."
"Interesting, but unhelpful," Solo commented. "Well, I'm going to bed. Tomorrow looks like a tough day."
* * *
Business was brisk at the morning session of Bow Street Magistrates Court. Too-liberal celebrants of victory and defeat in an international football match at Wembley Stadium had swelled the crime-sheet. One by one, with blinding hangovers, they filed into the dock to listen dully to the recital of their errors on the night before. They were followed by the normal procession of ladies of the town who had bucked the provisions of the Street Offenses Act. Then Blodwen and French Louise were put together.
French Louise was a battered synthetic blonde with the elfin charm of a Sherman tank. She stood five feet two, weighed 140 pounds, and most of the avoirdupois was distributed around her chest and hips. The fingers that gripped the edge of the dock were short and thick, with bitten nails.
She listened sullenly while the young constable gave evidence of the battle on the Newport Street pavement. It was his first major arrest and he made quite a production of the story. He left no doubt in the minds of the court that French Louise had been the challenger.
"Anything known?" the magistrate asked.
Louise, it transpired, had a string of convictions for soliciting, shoplifting and disturbing the public peace ranging back to the days of Pearl Harbor.
"Have you anything to say for yourselves?"
They kept silent. The bench considered sentence.
Blodwen, as a first offender, escaped with a nominal fine. Louise was not so lucky. She got the maximum.
The size of the fine made her gasp. "You got to be joking," she said. "Where the hell would I find that kind of money?"
Blodwen cut in quickly, "I'll pay it, your honor."
He nodded. "Very well."
The clerk called the next case.
"You didn't have to do that," Louise said grudgingly as they walked to the office to pay the fines. "I wasn't asking no favors from you."
"Forget it," Blodwen said. "Why should you go inside for nothing? Honest to God, I never even met your boyfriend. Let's get the hell out of here and have a drink."
"Okay, then. If you've still got the price."
"Don't worry. My friend is in the pub down the street. He'll pay."
Solo was waiting in the paneled bar of the old Coach and Horses in Bow Street. He clucked sympathetically and told Louise, "They really threw the book at you."
"Yeah, the bums. Still, I suppose I asked for it."
Solo gave her a large gin and it went down in one gulp. He gave her another, and she said, "Thanks. That hits the spot."
There was still suspicion in her eyes, despite her forced friendliness. She said to Blodwen, "I'm not starting anything but I still want to know. If Scalesi didn't give you my luck-piece, where did you get hold of it?"
"I gave it to her," Solo said.
"And how did you come by it?" she demanded.
"I picked it up someplace," he said vaguely. "The question is, how do we know it was yours in the first place?"
"Ask any of the girls. They've all seen me wearing it. Till it got pinched, that is."
"Mind telling me where you got it?"