THE SECRET OF THE NEW ARMOUR-PLATES
"I wonder if that fellow is aware of his danger?" remarked Ray, speaking
to himself behind the paper he was reading before the fire in New Stone
Buildings, one afternoon not long after we had returned from Scotland.
"What fellow?" I inquired.
"Why Professor Emden," he replied. "It seems that in a lecture at the
London Institution last night, he announced that he had discovered a new
process for the hardening of steel, which gives it no less than eight
times the resisting power of the present English steel!"
"Well!" I asked, looking across at my friend, and then glancing at Vera,
who had called and was seated with us, her hat still on, and a charming
figure to boot.
"My dear fellow, can't you see that such an invention would be of the
utmost value to our friends the Germans? They'd use it for the
armour-plates of their new navy."
"H'm! And you suspect they'll try and obtain Emden's secret--eh?"
"I don't suspect, I'm confident of it," he declared, throwing aside the
paper. "I suppose he's a bespectacled, unsuspicious man, like all
scientists. _The Times_ is enthusiastic over the discovery--declaring
that the Admiralty should secure it at once, if they have not already
done so. It's being made experimentally at Sheffield, it seems, and has
been tried in secret somewhere out near the Orkneys. Admiralty experts
are astounded at the results."
"Who is Emden?" I asked. "Just look at 'Who's Who?' It's by your elbow,
old chap."
Ray proceeded to search the fat red book of reference, and presently
exclaimed:
"It seems he's a Fellow of the Royal Society, a very distinguished
chemist, and a leading authority on electro-metallurgy and ferro-alloys.
He has improved upon the Kjellin furnace as installed at Krupp's at
Essen, and at Vickers, Sons, and Maxim's at Sheffield, and by this
improvement, it seems, has been able to invent the new steel-making
process."
"If he has improved upon any of the machinery or processes at the Krupp
works," remarked Vera, glancing across at me, "then, no doubt, our
friends across the North Sea will endeavour to filch the secret from
him."
"Yes," I agreed, "he certainly ought to be warned of his danger. As soon
as Hartmann sees the announcement in the papers, there's certain to be a
desperate attempt to get hold of the secret."
"That mustn't be allowed, my dear fellow," Ray exclaimed. "With such
steel as this the British Navy will have a splendid and distinct
advantage over that of our friend 'William the Sudden.' This is a great
and important secret which England must keep at all hazards."
"Certainly," declared Vera. "Really, Ray, you ought to see Professor
Emden and have a chat with him."
"His address is given at Richmond," was my friend's reply, "but I have
to go up to Selkirk early to-morrow, and shall be away nearly a week."
"Then shall I run down and see him this evening?" I suggested. And
agreeing with my idea, he wrote the address for me. Then we made a cup
of tea for Vera, who always delighted in the rough-and-ready bachelordom
of a barrister's chambers. Afterwards Ray took his fiancee home to her
aunt's, while I went back to my rather dismal lodgings in Guilford
Street, Russell Square.
At nine o'clock that evening I rang at a pleasant, good-sized, modern
house, which overlooked the beautiful Terrace Gardens and the river
lying deep below at Richmond--a house which, perhaps, commanded the
finest view within twenty miles of London.
The door was upon that main road which leads from the town up to the
"Star and Garter," but the frontage faced the Gardens. The dark-eyed
maid who opened the door informed me that the Professor was at home,
and took my card upstairs. Then, a few moments later, I was ushered up
to a cosy den, the study of a studious man, where I found the
distinguished scientist standing in expectation, with his back to the
fire.
He was a strange-looking man of sixty-five, his hair unusually white and
slightly bald on top. Tall beyond the average, he wore a moustache and
slight pointed beard, while his countenance seemed very broad in the
forehead tapering to a point. His face was, indeed, almost grotesque.
I commenced by apologising for my intrusion, but explained that I had
called on a purely confidential matter. When the door was closed, and we
were alone, I said:
"My mission, Professor, is a somewhat curious one"; and I went on to
explain our fears that German secret agents might obtain knowledge of
the new process to which he had referred at the London Institution on
the previous night.
For a moment he stroked his pointed white beard thoughtfully. I detected
that he was as eccentric as he was curious-looking. Then, with a light
laugh, he replied:
"Really Mr.--Mr. Jacox, I can't see your motive, or that of your
friends, in thus interfering in my private affairs!"
"But is not this splendid discovery of yours of national importance?" I
protested. "Will it not give us an enormous advantage over our enemies?
Therefore, is it not more than probable that you have already attracted
the attention of these spies of Germany?"
"My dear sir," he laughed, "I tell you quite frankly that I don't
believe in all these stories about German spies. What is there in
England for Germany to discover? Nothing; they know everything. No, Mr.
Jacox, I'm an Englishman, a patriot, and I still believe in England's
power. We have nothing whatever to fear from Germany."
"Your theory is hardly borne out by facts, Professor," I said,
proceeding to tell him of our discovery at Rosyth, and how we had
outwitted the spies regarding the new submarine, and also the airship at
Lochindorb.
But the strange-looking old scientist, distinguished as he was, only
laughed my fears to scorn.
"I'd like to see any German trying to learn my secret," he said
defiantly.
"Then I would urge you to take every precaution. These agents employed
by the German Secret Police on behalf of the General Staff are bold and
unscrupulous."
"And do you allege that there are actually German spies in England?"
asked the strange man.
"Most certainly. We have in England and Scotland more than five thousand
fixed agents, men of almost every nationality except German, and in
every walk of life, from humble labourers to men and women in good
positions, all of whom are collecting information at the order of the
German travelling agents, who visit them from time to time, collect
their reports, and pay them their salaries. French, Swiss, and Italians
are mostly employed," I said. "At the present time my friend Raymond has
under observation a German band, seven young fellows all army officers,
who are playing in the streets of Leeds, and at the same time making a
secret map of the water-mains of that city, in order that when 'the Day'
of invasion comes, the enemy will be able to suddenly deprive a densely
populated area of water."
"But have you any actual proof of this?" he inquired.
As he spoke the door opened, and there entered a pretty dark-haired girl
of twenty-two, wearing a light skirt and a pale pink evening blouse.
"Oh, dad!" she exclaimed, halting suddenly, "I'm sorry I didn't know you
had a visitor."
"I shan't be a moment, Nella dear," the curious-looking old man said,
and after a quick, inquisitive glance at me the girl withdrew.
"Well," exclaimed the Professor, with a smile, "I'm really very obliged
to you for troubling to come here to warn me, but I think, my dear sir,
that warnings are quite unnecessary. I haven't the slightest fear that
any attempt will ever be made to secure my secret"; and he rose
impatiently.
"Very well," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "I have warned you,
Professor Emden. The Government will not admit the presence of spies
amongst us, and for that reason we are now collecting indisputable
evidence."
"Ah!" he laughed, "and you want me to help you, eh? Well, sir, I don't
believe in a word of this scare--so I must decline that honour."
"And you will take no unusual precaution to keep the truth out of the
hands of our enemies, eh?"
"I leave it to Joynson's of Sheffield," he said. "They've paid me a
large sum down and a royalty for the secret of my process, and it is
scarcely likely that they'll allow it to fall into other hands, is it?"
"They will not, but you, a private individual, may," I said.
"I think not," he laughed, and a moment later I descended the stairs,
passing his pretty daughter Nella on the way out.
That night I called on Ray at Bruton Street, but he was out at the
theatre with Vera. At half-past eleven they called as they went back to
the girl's aunt's, and as they sat before the fire, Vera with her
opera-cloak thrown back revealing a pretty pale blue corsage a trifle
_decollete_, I reported the non-success of my mission.
"He's a pig-headed old ass!" I declared. "One of millions of others in
England. They close their eyes to the dangers of this horde of spies
among us, and will only open them when the Germans come marching up the
street and billet themselves in their houses. But he's a strange man,
Ray, a very strange man," I added.
"You're right, Mr. Jacox," the girl declared. "Instead of teaching boys
how to scout and instructing young men in the use of popguns, we should
strike first at the root of all things. Cut off the source of this
secret information which daily goes across the North Sea. Such hidebound
patriots as the Professor are a peril to the nation!"
"If he refuses to help himself, Jacox, we must protect him ourselves,"
Ray declared. "I leave it to you and Vera to keep an open eye until I
return from Selkirk next Monday. I'm bound to go down and see my sister.
She seems very ill indeed."
And so a very important and delicate affair was thus placed in my hands.
Vera Vallance announced herself ready and eager to assist me, and that
night I walked back to Bloomsbury much puzzled how next to act.
That the Germans would attempt to secure the secret of the new steel was
absolutely certain. But to us, success meant the keeping of it to
Britain, and the armouring of our new _Dreadnoughts_ with a resisting
power eight times that of our enemies.
Next day I journeyed down to Sheffield and called upon the manager of
Messrs. Joynson and Mackinder, the great steel-makers, who, as you know,
hold the contracts for making the armour-plates of our improved
_Dreadnoughts_. He told me how the firm had just constructed six of the
new Emden electrical furnaces, and had also taken over the wonderful new
process which the Professor had invented.
He then courteously took me across to that portion of the great grimy
works, with its wonderful steel melting and refining furnaces, to where
the Emden process was about to be carried out.
"I suppose you have no fear of the new method being learnt by any of
your rivals--by any German firm, for instance?" I asked.
"Not in the least," laughed the manager, a bluff, grey-bearded man,
speaking in his broad Hallamshire dialect; "we take good care of that.
Each workman only does a part, the whole of the process being only known
to myself. It wouldn't do for us to give Professor Emden forty thousand
pounds for the secret and then allow it to fall into foreign hands. The
Germans would, of course, give anything for it," he added. "Emden is a
patriotic Englishman even though he is very eccentric, and if he liked
he could have got almost anything he cared to ask from Krupp's."
"That's just the point," I said; and then, as we walked back to the
office, I explained my fears. But, like the Professor himself, he only
laughed them to scorn. So that evening I again returned to London filled
with anxiety and disappointment.
Just before eleven that same night I strolled past the house of Hermann
Hartmann, in Pont Street, vaguely wondering what I could do to prevent a
theft which must, I knew, shortly be committed. In all probability the
ingenious Hartmann already had a secret agent in Joynson's works, but
even if he had, he would certainly not be able to discover the secret.
I had quite satisfied myself upon that point.
No, the peril lay in the Professor himself--the strange old pig-headed
patriot.
Scarcely had I passed Hartmann's house, the exterior of which I knew so
well, when I heard the front door close and saw a man coming down the
steps. As he walked in my direction I halted beneath a lamp to light a
cigarette, and by so doing I obtained a glimpse of his face as he
passed.
He was a young, good-looking, smartly dressed man, with dark eyes and
hair and a rather sallow complexion. I put him down to be an Italian,
but I had never set eyes upon him before. No doubt he was one of
Hartmann's travelling agents--a man who went up and down England
visiting the fixed spies of Germany, or "letter-boxes," as they are
known in the bureau of secret police in Berlin--collecting their reports
and making payments for information or services rendered.
Knowing so much of the ways of the German secret agent, curiosity
prompted me to follow him. He strolled as far as the corner of Sloane
Street and Knightsbridge, and then boarded a motor-bus as far as
Piccadilly Circus. Thence he walked to the German beer-hall, the
Gambrinus, just off Coventry Street, where he joined a tall, thin,
grey-moustached man, an Italian like himself, who was seated awaiting
him. I idled across to a table close by, called for beer, and sat
smoking a cigarette and straining my ears to catch their conversation,
which was in Italian, a language I know fairly well.
I discovered the following facts. The thin-faced man was called
Giovanni, while the elegant young fellow was Uberto, and they were
discussing the arrival of somebody. Giovanni seemed dubious about
something, while the man who had left Hartmann's seemed enthusiastic.
After a quarter of an hour Uberto glanced at his watch, made some remark
to his companion, and they rose and went out together, driving in a
taxicab westward, I following in another, which I fortunately found
just in time. Through Kensington we went, over Hammersmith Bridge,
through Barnes, and across the Common.
Then I realised we were going to Richmond.
The chase grew exciting. Before me I could see the red back-lamp of the
taxi as it sped forward, and half an hour later we were crossing
Richmond Bridge, where, a short distance along the road to Twickenham,
they suddenly swung round to the left into St. Margaret's and pulled up
before a good-sized detached house which stood back in its own grounds,
in which were several big trees. The thoroughfare was, I noted, called
Brunswick road.
My taxi-driver proved himself no fool. I had told him to follow;
therefore, unable to pull up sharply, he swept past, and did not stop
until we were round the bend in the quiet suburban road and thus out of
sight.
I ordered him to remain, and, alighting, strolled back past the house in
question. About its dark exterior was a distinct air of mystery. The
pair had entered, and the taxi was awaiting them. The house was an
old-fashioned one, solid and substantial in character, and apparently
the residence of some prosperous City man; yet I wondered why its owner
should have visitors at that hour. Surely great urgency had compelled
the pair to come all the way from Piccadilly Circus to consult him.
But a surprise was in store for me.
After lurking about in the shadows with that expert evasiveness which I
had now acquired, I presently saw the pair make their exit, but, to my
surprise, they were accompanied out to the kerb by a woman--apparently
a lady in black evening dress, the bodice of which was cut low.
About her shoulders she had wrapped a pale blue shawl, and as the young
Uberto entered the taxi I heard her exclaim in Italian:
"_Addio!_ To-morrow at one then, at Prince's."
As she moved I saw her countenance by the light of the cab lamp, a
handsome, well-cut face, typical of a woman of Piedmont, for she had
spoken in a dialect unmistakably that of Turin. The Turinese are more
French than Italian, and are as different in both temperament and
language from those of the south as the people of the Ardennes differ
from those of Paris.
Both men shook hands with her warmly, bade her "_Addio_," and entering
the taxi, drove away back to London, while I stood still watching.
And as I gazed I saw as she walked back to the house, in the doorway,
silhouetted against the light, an old man coming forward towards her.
"_Dio!_" she cried, half in alarm at seeing him. Then in Italian, she
added, "Why do you risk being seen, you imbecile? Why didn't you keep
where you were?"
Then the door closed, and seeking my taxi I also returned to Bloomsbury.
But that incident had aroused a good deal of doubt and suspicion within
me. Who was that handsome young Italian woman whom the spies had visited
at that late hour? And, above all, who was that man with whom she had
been annoyed for showing himself?
Next day proved conclusively that some crooked business was in progress,
for while I sat alone eating my lunch in a corner of the big room at
Prince's Restaurant in Piccadilly, I was amazed to see the well-dressed
young Italian--the man whom I had seen emerge from Hartmann's in Pont
Street, enter with no other person than Nella Emden.
Surely the spies had already made considerable progress! My indignation
was such that I could have walked over to the table where the pair had
seated themselves, and denounced that elegant Italian as a spy of the
Kaiser. But I foresaw that by patience I might yet discover more that
would be of interest.
From my corner I watched the pair unnoticed. The girl was certainly
extremely good-looking, young, and by her manner I could see that she
was shy at being with a male companion alone in a public restaurant. He,
on his part, was exercising over her all the fascination of his nation.
Once or twice I saw him smile covertly across behind me, and when I had
an opportunity to glance round I realised, to my surprise, that the man
whom he had called Giovanni was lunching with the handsome Italian woman
from St. Margaret's.
It seemed that they were watching the young pair. For what reason, I
wondered?
I remained on the alert, but that day discovered nothing more, though I
followed the young pair back to Richmond and saw the Italian part
affectionately from Nella Emden near her father's house.
For some days I prosecuted an unceasing vigil, for already I had
recognised the seriousness of a secret falling into the enemies' hands
which would undoubtedly give them the advantage in the coming struggle.
One afternoon Vera Vallance met me at Waterloo Station, and together we
went down to Richmond, where I showed her the Professor's house, and
together we waited for the coming of Nella. Vera, enthusiastic as ever,
and ingenious at keeping observation, followed the girl, while in fear
of being recognised I went back to London.
Next day she called at New Stone Buildings, smart, neat, and altogether
sweet and winning.
"Well, Mr. Jacox," she said, seating herself by my fire, "I had a
curious experience after I left you yesterday afternoon. Nella went
first by tram to Twickenham, and near the Town Hall there met the young
Italian, who had a companion--Hartmann himself!"
"Hartmann!" I gasped. "Then our suspicions are surely well grounded!"
"Of course they are," she said. "I at once drew back, fearing that our
clever friend of Pont Street should notice me. Fortunately he did not,
therefore I was able to watch and ascertain where they went--to the
house in St. Margaret's where you saw that Italian woman. They
apparently stayed there to tea, for about half-past five the young man
came out and walked in the direction of Richmond Bridge. I, however,
remained behind, and though I waited for hours, until long after dark,
neither Hartmann nor the girl made their reappearance. But at nine a
very remarkable incident occurred."
"What?" I inquired eagerly.
"Three men came along the road in the darkness carrying something. When
they drew near me and turned into the gate of the house, I stood aghast.
Upon their shoulders was a coffin!"
"A coffin!" I echoed, staring at her.
"Yes. And though I waited until midnight, Hartmann did not come forth,
neither did the Professor's daughter. What do you make of it?" she
asked, looking into my eyes.
I admitted that the affair was a mystery, and suggested that we might
ascertain whether Nella had returned to her home.
"Yes," she said. "Go down to Richmond and see."
This I did without delay. I watched the house during that afternoon, and
just at dusk saw the dark-eyed maid-servant emerge to post a letter. I
followed her up the hill to the pillar-box, and by the application of a
couple of half-crowns obtained some information.
"No, sir," replied the girl, "Miss Nella's not come home. The master's
in a great state about her. She went out for a walk yesterday afternoon,
and though he's been to the police, nobody seems to have seen her."
"She was her father's assistant in his experiments, I've heard?"
"Yes, sir, she was. Ever since poor Mrs. Emden died, two years ago,
she's been her father's right hand."
"Had she a lover?"
"Well"--and the girl hesitated. "We in the kitchen have our suspicions.
Davis the cook saw her last Sunday walking over in Teddington with a
dark young man, who looked like a foreigner. But," she added, "why do
you want to know all this?"
"I'm trying to trace the young lady," I said, in the hope that she would
believe me to be a detective. "Tell me," I urged; "does the Professor
make any experiments at home?"
"Oh yes, sir; his laboratory is up on the top floor--fitted up with an
electric furnace and lots of funny appliances."
"Has he any friends who are foreigners?" I inquired.
"Not that I know of," was the girl's reply. And I thought she regarded
me rather strangely. Why, I could not conceive. Her name was Annie
Whybrow, she told me, and then, unable to detain her longer I allowed
her to re-enter the house.
Vera's story of the coffin being taken into that mysterious house in
Brunswick Road, combined with the non-return of the pretty Nella, was
certainly mystifying.
I returned to London, saw Vera, and we resolved to wire to Ray at
Selkirk asking him to return to London as soon as possible.
That night, and the next, I haunted the usual resorts of foreigners in
the West End, the underground Cafe de l'Europe, the Spaten beer-hall in
Leicester Square, the Cafe Monico, the Gambrinus, and other places, in
order to discover the young Italian. On the second evening I was
successful, for I saw him in the Monico, and on inquiring of a man I
knew, I learnt that his name was Uberto Mellini, that until recently he
had lived in Paris, and that at the present moment he was staying in a
house in Dean Street, Soho.
At midnight, when I returned to Bloomsbury, I found Vera and Ray
anxiously awaiting me. The latter had only arrived in London from
Scotland an hour before, and his fiancee had evidently told him of the
curious events which had transpired and the sinister mystery surrounding
the young girl's disappearance.
"I can see no reason for it at all," he declared, when we commenced to
discuss the situation. "It's quite plain that our friends the enemy are
actively at work, but surely the fact that Nella is missing would put
the Professor upon his guard. This young Italian Mellini is evidently a
new importation, and has pretended to form an attachment for Nella for
some ulterior object."
"Certainly," I said. "But what do you make of the incident of the
coffin?"
"There has been no funeral from that house in Brunswick Road?"
"Not as far as I can gather."
"The Registrar of Deaths would be able to inform us," he said
reflectively. "We must inquire."
Next day all three of us returned to Richmond, and while Ray and Vera
crossed the bridge to the opposite side of the Thames to find the
Registrar's office, I lingered and watched in the vicinity of the
Professor's house.
I waited for many weary hours in the wet--for rain fell the whole
day--but Ray did not return, which caused me considerable misgivings. I
was compelled to resort to all sorts of subterfuges in order not to
attract attention; but as my friend had directed me to remain and watch,
I waited patiently at my post.
Just after the street lamps were lit, a telegraph messenger arrived, and
ten minutes after he had gone the girl Annie came out with hat and
jacket on, and turning to the left hurried in my direction.
As she passed I spoke to her, and, recognising me, she explained that
she was going for a cab to convey the Professor to the station.
"Miss Nella is at Liverpool," she added excitedly. "The master has had a
wire from her, asking him to go there at once. She's very ill, it seems.
The poor master is greatly excited. He's just telephoned to the police
saying that Miss Nella has been found."
And then the girl hurried away, down the hill to the foot of the bridge,
where there was a cab-stand.
Nella at Liverpool! What could possibly have occurred?
Later on I watched the Professor, carrying only a handbag, enter a cab
and drive rapidly to the station, while Annie returned to the house and
closed the front door.
It was then about six o'clock, and I had been watching there for nearly
eight hours. Therefore I decided to go in search of Ray, who was over at
St. Margaret's, and who, I thought, would most probably be watching the
house to which the coffin had been taken.
In this I was not mistaken, for I found him idling at the end of that
quiet, dark suburban road. He was on the alert the instant he recognised
me, and in a few rapid sentences I told him what had occurred.
It puzzled him greatly.
"I've ascertained that Hartmann is back at Pont Street," he said. "But
why the coffin should be in yonder house is still a mystery. The
Registrar has had no intimation of any death in Brunswick Road for the
past eight months. I've, however, found the local undertaker, who says
that a plain coffin was ordered for a gentleman and that they duly
delivered it. They did not see the body, being told that the funeral was
to be undertaken by a big West End firm, and that the body was to be
conveyed for burial somewhere near Leicester."
"Have you found out anything further regarding the occupants of the
house?"
"No, only that it was taken furnished by a gentleman a month ago--a
foreigner whose description exactly tallies with that of Hartmann--for
an old man and his daughter--both Italians. They've kept themselves very
much to themselves, therefore the neighbours know practically nothing
about their business."
"Well, Nella Emden was enticed in there. I'm certain of that," I said.
"Yet the fact that she's in Liverpool rather negatives my first theory
of foul play," I added.
"Yes. But we must still remain watchful. Vera has gone to make some
inquiries for me over at Mortlake. I expect her back in half an hour.
You return and keep a watchful eye upon the Professor's place. One never
knows what crooked business may be on hand!"
So back I went, and through the whole evening waited there, chilled to
the bone, in vain expectancy.
I had noticed from Ray's manner that he had become very suspicious. He
somehow scented the presence of spies at times when, I confess, I felt
calm and reassured. And his natural intuition was seldom, if ever,
wrong.
The church bells across the river had chimed midnight, the Professor's
servants had put out the lights and retired, and the thoroughfare was
now deserted. Hungry and tired out, I was contemplating relaxing my
vigil when Ray suddenly turned a corner and joined me, saying
breathlessly:
"Uberto and his friend are coming up the hill with another man. Vera and
I have seen them call at Brunswick Road, and they are now on their way
here. We must keep a strict watch. Something is up!"
We separated, and concealing ourselves in the basements of the houses
opposite, we witnessed that which caused our heart-beats to quicken.
The three men came along in silence in the night, for they evidently
wore rubber heels on their boots. The constable was then some distance
down the hill, therefore they passed him.
As they approached the house, the man whom I had heard addressed as
Giovanni hurried forward, and slipping suddenly into the narrow front
garden, approached the kitchen window. Inserting something between the
sashes, he pushed back the latch, carefully drew back the blind, and was
within the house almost before the two others had entered the garden.
Then, without a sound, the pair followed him. Indeed, the three spies
had entered the premises so quickly that we could scarcely believe our
own eyes.
"The police!" whispered Ray. "We must get the constable. Slip down the
hill and tell him. We'll make a fine capture this time!"
Down the hill I sped, and five minutes later was back with the
constable, having briefly explained to him our suspicions.
"I don't know anything about German spies, sir, but whoever's inside is
liable for burglariously entering, and we'll have 'em," whispered the
officer.
Silently we entered just as the spies had done, passing through the
kitchen, and up the stairs. The laboratory was at the top of the house I
knew, and was always kept locked. Therefore we crept forward, without
the slightest sound.
Once or twice, we listened. The spies were absolutely silent--well
trained to that sort of nocturnal investigation, no doubt.
As Ray and I got to the door of the big room, which, by the light of the
flash-lamp used by the intruders, we could see was fitted with all sorts
of appliances, we witnessed through the crack that they had secured a
number of specimens of metals and were all three at that moment engaged
in drilling a hole in the big dark green safe standing in the corner.
"Now," whispered the constable, "let's rush them." And with a loud shout
we dashed in upon them, revolvers in hand.
In an instant we were in total darkness. Deep curses in Italian sounded,
and I heard a desperate struggle taking place. Somebody grabbed at me,
but it was our friend the constable. Then, by the red flash of a
revolver which somebody fired, I distinguished the flying form of one of
the intruders through the doorway.
Next second, in the darkness, I felt a man brush past me, and instantly
I closed with him. We fell together, and as I gripped the fellow's
throat he ejaculated a loud imprecation in Italian. Then we rolled over
in desperate embrace, but as I forced him beneath me, shouting to the
constable, whose lantern had been knocked from his hand and broken, I
suddenly felt a crushing blow upon the skull. I saw a thousand stars,
and then the blackness of unconsciousness fell upon me.
* * * * *
When I again grew cognisant of what was going on about me, I found
myself lying in bed in the Richmond Cottage Hospital with a
pleasant-faced nurse bending eagerly over me. It was still night, for
the gas was burning.
She asked how I felt, remarking that I had received a nasty crack, and
had lain there unconscious for three whole days.
Presently I felt the presence of some one else near me, and gradually
made them out to be Ray and Vera.
At first they would tell me nothing, but after the doctor had seen me,
Ray in his cheery way said:
"Yours was a bit of hard luck, old fellow. The blackguards all got
away--all three of them. But we were just in time, for in that safe were
the memoranda of the Professor's experiments which, together with the
specimens of the new metal that could have been analysed, would have
undoubtedly placed the secret of the new steel in the hands of the
German Admiralty!"
"Then we really prevented them?" I said eagerly, feeling the bandages
about my head.
"Just in the very nick of time, old man," he replied. "And we did more.
We managed to save Miss Nella."
"How?" I inquired eagerly.
"She's here. She'll tell you herself." And next moment I saw her
standing before me with the Professor.
"Yes, Mr. Jacox," the girl said. "I have come to thank you. I was first
approached by the young Italian while crossing Richmond Bridge one day,
and later on he introduced me to his sister, who lived in St.
Margaret's. On the afternoon when I was induced to go there I was given
something in my tea which at once rendered me unconscious. When I
recovered, I found myself lying in a coffin secured to rings inside,
while a villainous old man, a bearded German, and an Italian woman were
about to screw down the lid. I screamed, but they took no notice, until
in fear I fainted. Ah! shall I ever forget those horrible moments? I was
alone, helpless in the hands of those fiends, all because I had allowed
myself to become attracted by a stranger! They held me there for days,
trying to learn from me the secret of my father's discovery. But I would
tell them nothing. Ah! how I suffered, believing every hour that they
would close down that lid. Then the brutes, finding me defiant, and
believing that no one was aware of their existence, hit upon another
device--sending a false telegram to my father from Liverpool, and thus
taking him away from the house in order to be afforded a clear field for
their investigations. Of this I, of course, knew nothing until your
friends entered the house forcibly with the police and found me still
imprisoned--ah! yes! ready for death and burial."
And then the strange old Professor, stepping forward, seized my hand
warmly in his, saying:
"To you and your two good friends, Mr. Jacox, the country owes a great
and deep debt of gratitude. I was foolish in disregarding your timely
warning, for my dear daughter very nearly lost her life, because the
blackguards knew she had assisted me in my experiments and had made the
notes at my dictation, while Britain very nearly lost the secret upon
which, in the near future, will depend her supremacy at sea."