"Now," continued Grayson, "I find it very fascinating that two British newspapermen are also apparently members of an American research group, headed by two so-called 'professors' named Steiger and Delaney, whom the American consulate has never heard of and who are nowhere to be found. I also find it fascinating that both you and Mr. Larson visited the crime lab here at Scotland Yard earlier today, asking after Mr. Scott Neilson, and when you learned that Mr. Neilson had left early, you apparently went directly to the Metropole Hotel. Now, having an inordinately suspicious nature, I decided to question some of the hotel staff about our Mr. Neilson. It seems they had never heard of anyone by that name. But when I described him, lo and behold once more, comes the reply, 'Why, that sounds like Mr. Nelson, one of those nice young American scholars!' The plot, it seems, grows thicker. Mysteries abound and the trail keeps leading us back to the Hotel Metropole, all roads leading to Rome, as it were. That it was a headquarters of some sort I have no doubt, but a headquarters for what, specifically? An academic project? No. madame, I think not."
He went around to his desk and opened one of the drawers. He took out the plastic dart pistol Volkov had used and a pair of black bracelets Craven and
Larson's warp discs.
He picked up the plastic pistol. "I have never seen anything even remotely like this weapon before," he said. "I cannot even identify the material it's made from. Lightweight, yet incredibly strong. It dot; not appear to be metal, at least none such as I have ever seen. What is it?" She shrugged
. He put it down and then picked up the warp discs. "And would you mind telling me what these peculiar items are?"
"They are only bracelets," she said. "Jewelry, nothing more."
"Indeed?" said Grayson. "And what, then, is the purpose of all these little numbered knobs? Mere decoration?"
"Here," she said, reaching for the warp disc. "I'll show you." Grayson handed her the bracelet. "It's merely part of the catch, that's all. There's a little trick to opening it…" As she spoke, she tried to activate the disc, but she quickly realized that Grayson must have already played with it, because the failsafe designed into the disc had fused it, melting the particle level chronocircuitry and rendering it useless. Her spirits sank.
"Yes?" said Grayson.
She shook her head. "It seems to be broken now," she said.
He reached out his hand for it and she returned the useless warp disc to him. "I was examining it earlier and it suddenly became quite warm," he said, watching her carefully. "How do you account for that?"
She shook her head, staring at him as if he were speaking Greek. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Inspector."
"Don't you? Apparently, there is no way to disassemble it or to break it open. You still maintain that it is merely a piece of jewelry and nothing more?"
She nodded.
"And this peculiar little pistol, which tires some sort of strange, envenomed darts'?"
"It isn't mine." she said. "I have no idea what it is." "You are lying again, Miss Craven, or whatever your name really is," said Grayson. "Who was that man who attacked you and murdered Mr. Larson?"
"I don't know."
"Why did he attack you?"
"I don't know."
"What is your connection with Mr. Scott Neilson?"
"Mr. Larson wanted to question him on some point concerning a story he was writing for his newspaper."
"Mr. Larson? I thought his name was Locker."
"It was Larson." she said. "I never knew him by any other name."
"And he was a member of your research group?" "He was a reporter for the Police Gazette."
"Then why is it that several members of the hotel staff have identified him as Richard Locker. a member of your research group?"
"I have no idea. I never really noticed any particular resemblance."
"I see. So if Mr. Larson isn't Mr. Locker, then where is Mr. Locker?"
"I don't know."
"Is it merely a coincidence that they had such similar names?" said Grayson.
"I suppose it must be," she said. "I had never really thought about it."