Left alone with Jimmy, Crouch solemnly refilled his pipe.
"The moment I first set eyes on her," he observed, "I summed that old
woman up. Emily Jane's a hoax."
"Are you sure of it?" asked Jimmy.
"Absolutely certain," said Crouch. "I don't imagine for a moment that
the old woman's in league with a gang of German spies; else she would
never have shown us up here. For all that, she's not to be trusted
further than a first engineer can throw a quoit. That's all the better
for us. I don't suppose she'll come back to-night."
"And what about these men, Russell and Valentine?" asked Jimmy. "Who
are they, do you think?"
"Valentine may be any one," answered Crouch. "But I've a shrewd
suspicion that Russell is Rudolf Stork. Stork has now been in England
three days. He has had plenty of time in which to get to London."
"And if he turns up," asked the boy, "what are we to do?"
"If it's necessary, shoot him like a dog," said Crouch, forgetting that
he was not on his ship's deck.
For the next half-hour, they systematically searched the whole flat, but
could find nothing suspicious. There was an aspect of newness about the
place; carpets, curtains, and cushions had evidently come straight from
the furnishers, and showed no signs of wear. In an old-fashioned
Sheraton bureau were writing and blotting paper, ink and pens; but, the
blotting paper was quite spotless, and the pen nibs had never been
dipped into the ink.
"There's nothing here," said Crouch. "We shall have to wait for Stork."
And hardly had the words left his lips than a bell rang, somewhere in
the room. Jimmy started, and even Crouch carried a hand to the coat
pocket that contained his revolver. The moment was one of intense
excitement; they were face to face with great events. It was as if the
atmosphere of the room was electrified by the strong current of
anticipation.
"The telephone!" cried Jimmy, pointing to the wall.
In a moment, Crouch had the receiver to his ear. He had the wisdom not
to speak, until he had found out who it was who had rung up the
unoccupied flat, and this proved to be no less a person than the
mysterious "Mr. Valentine," who was speaking from the "Hotel
Magnificent" in the Strand. "Are you there?" he asked. "Are you the
charwoman?"
Crouch replied at once, in the old woman's squeaky voice.
"I'm Mrs. Wycherley," said he.
"I told you," said the voice, "that you were to expect Mr. Russell this
evening. He will probably arrive at about eight o'clock."
"Very well, sir," said Crouch. "The rooms is aired, and all the fires
was a-lighted this morning, and everything's that clean you could eat
your dinner off the carpet, as sure as my Emily Jane's blood has turned
to water."
"Shut up!" cried "Valentine," so loudly that even Jimmy was able to
hear. "I've not rung up to hear about Emily Jane. I intended to come
round this evening, to meet Mr. Russell on his arrival; but I have to go
to Edinburgh at once, on extremely urgent business, and have only just
time to catch my train. Can you hear what I say?"
"Bless you, yes, sir," answered Crouch. "It don't make no difference
whether it's the butcher or a hundred-weight o' coal, I allus makes use
of the telegraph, and I don't take no sauce from the young woman in the
middle."
"Then, listen here," said "Valentine." "I'm sending round a
messenger-boy with an important sealed letter. On no account whatever
are you to let this letter out of your hands, until you give it to Mr.
Russell, the very moment he arrives."
"Valentine," in order to make quite sure that Mrs. Wycherley had heard
aright and understood, made Crouch repeat his instructions word for
word. That done he rang off, apparently in the greatest haste, no doubt
fearing to miss his train.
Captain Crouch was wildly excited. Jamming his white bowler hat well on
to the back of his head, he proclaimed that they were hot upon the scent
of the gang. Mrs. Wycherley had left him in possession of the key of
the flat; and going down to the front door, he waited impatiently for
the messenger to arrive.
The messenger-boy had some diffidence about handing over the letter to
Crouch, saying that he understood that he was to deliver it to a
charwoman. Crouch, however, was not to be denied, and with the sealed
letter in his hand returned to Jimmy.
To break the seal and tear open the envelope was the work of a few
seconds. The letter was written in German, of which language Crouch and
Jimmy knew enough to make out the meaning, though there were one or two
words that neither could understand. With the translation of
"Valentine's" letter all doubt was dispelled that the unknown "Mr.
Russell" was any one else than Rudolf Stork, the ship's carpenter of the
"Harlech."
The letter began with the words "Dear Stork," and continued to the
following effect: A sea raid had been planned on the North Coast,
against the dockyards of the Forth and Tyne. All German submarines had
been warned, with the exception of the U93, whose wireless had been
probably by H.M. Destroyer "Cockroach." The U93 had come north-eastward
from the Lizard, had passed the Straits of Dover in safety, and was now
lying somewhere in the vicinity of the Wellbank lightship, which is a
little north of the latitude of the Tyne.
Immediately on his arrival in London, Stork was to go to Hull, taking
the first and fastest train. Thence, he was to put to sea in a fishing
smack, the "Marigold," the skipper of which was in the pay of
"Valentine." He was to find the U93, and tell her to proceed due east
without delay, to meet the German fleet, issuing from the Bight of
Heligoland, and which would comprise some of the biggest battle-cruisers
ever built: notably, the "Derfflinger," the "Seydlitz," the "Bluecher,"
and the "Moltke."
Captain Crouch was a man of iron nerve; but, when he realized the
colossal magnitude of the plot with which they were confronted, even he
could not control the features of his face. As for Jimmy Burke, his
lips were parted, and when he held the letter in his hand, the sheet of
paper trembled like a leaf. Scene by scene, the great drama that had
opened in the offices of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern unfolded itself
before the eyes of those who were something more than mere spectators.
And each scene, it appeared, was more dramatic, more fraught with
terrible consequences and possibilities of triumph or disaster, than
that which had gone before.
It took Jimmy Burke some time to find his breath. He was so excited
that he found it difficult to speak.
"There's not a moment to lose!" he cried. "We must report what we know
both to the Admiralty and Scotland Yard."
"We can't leave this place," said Crouch. "Stork may turn up at any
minute; it must be nearly eight o'clock already. I'll ring up the Yard,
at once."
He went straight to the telephone, where almost immediately he got into
communication with the famous headquarters of the London Police. He was
informed that a superintendent-detective would be sent at once to Number
758, Edgware Road.
Crouch placed the receiver back upon its rest, and pulled out his watch.
"It's past eight o'clock," said he. "Russell should be here."
It was at that very moment that they heard the sound of footsteps upon
the stone staircase without. Crouch hurried to the door and threw it
open; and there entered three men, two of whom were young, whilst the
other was considerably over sixty.
Both Crouch and Jimmy scanned the face of each man as he entered, and
both, with their hands in their pockets, grasped the handles of their
revolvers. In spite of the intense excitement of the moment, Jimmy
Burke was conscious of a feeling of bitter disappointment, when he saw
that not one of these three men was Rudolf Stork.
Each of the two younger men was well over six feet in height, broad of
shoulder and deep of chest. They were dressed precisely the same, and
wore blue suits, light-coloured overcoats, brown boots and wide-brimmed,
black felt hats. As for the older man, he had the appearance of a
professor, or some sage of ancient times; there was something about him
that might almost be described as druidical. His hair was quite white,
very long and somewhat greasy. He had a white beard that reached almost
to his waist. His nose was long and aquiline, and his eyes much
magnified by a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. In his hand he carried
an ash-plant, so knotted and heavy at the head that it resembled a club.
It was he who was the first to speak, staring at Crouch over the top of
his spectacles.
"Pardon me," he observed, in a voice that was exceedingly soft; "pardon
me, but I have not the pleasure."
"Nor I," said Captain Crouch.
"I think you must have made a mistake," the old man went on. "My name
is Russell--Theophilus Russell--and this flat belongs to me."
"Then," said Crouch, "there must certainly be some mistake. My name is
Shakespeare--Melchisedek Shakespeare--and this flat happens to belong to
me."
Mr. Russell adjusted his spectacles upon his nose, and looked around the
room.
"There should be a woman here," said he; "a Mrs. Wycherley."
"She's gone out," said Crouch.
The old man smiled and pointed with his stick.
"Why, there she is!" he exclaimed. "How strange that I never noticed
her before."
He had pointed to the armchair, at the other end of the room, in which
Crouch had formerly been seated. The whole thing was so cleverly
planned, the old man's voice was so dulcet and confiding, and his
expression of surprise so admirably feigned, that Crouch could not
resist the wholly natural impulse of turning round, to see for himself
whether or not Mrs. Wycherley were there.
His eyes had not left the old man's face for longer than the fraction of
a second before there took place a kind of transfiguration which was
even more terrible to see than it was surprising.
There had been something about the patriarchal figure of the old,
white-bearded man that was gentle, beneficent and charitable. His
expression had been that of one who looks upon the world, and all its
fooleries and foibles, with the comfortable tolerance of age. On a
sudden, this expression changed. His eyes flashed; his brows became
knit in a savage frown. At the same time, this transformation extended
to his body, which straightened, quivered, and even seemed to grow
larger. Before it was possible to guess what he was about to do, or
make the slightest movement by way of self-defence, he had raised his
heavy ash-plant high above his shoulder, and brought it down with a
crashing blow upon the head of Captain Crouch.
The little sea-captain had been taken unawares. Once again had he been
fooled. He let out a groan, spun round like a top, and then came down
heavily upon the floor.
In so short a space of time did this calamity occur that Jimmy Burke had
barely time to act. He had taken two steps forward, and had got so far
as drawing his revolver from his pocket, when he was seized and held
fast in the powerful arms of the two younger men. Before he had time to
cry out, or even to realize what had happened, he found himself not only
with a gag thrust into his mouth, but with both hands handcuffed behind
his back.
Russell laughed aloud, in a voice that was far from dulcet.
"I saw through your disguise," he cried, pointing to the prostrate
figure of the little captain, "the very moment I entered the room.
Something more is needed than a white bowler hat and a scarlet necktie
to conceal the identity of Captain Crouch."
At that, Crouch struggled to his feet, and stood for a second swaying.
Then, with a loud cry and a kind of lurch forward, he flung himself like
a wild-cat upon the old man, whom he seized roughly by the throat.
"You villain!" he shouted at the full power of his lungs.
So great was his passion, so amazing his agility, that there is little
doubt he would have strangled the old villain then and there, had it not
been for the two younger men, who hurled themselves upon his back.
They dragged him away as though he had been a mad dog, but not until he
had seized Russell by his long, flowing beard, which he tore, not
piecemeal, but bodily, in a mass, from the old man's wrinkled face.
[Illustration: CROUCH SEIZED RUSSELL BY HIS LONG, FLOWING BEARD, WHICH
HE TORE BODILY FROM THE OLD MAN'S FACE.]
A moment later, Crouch, like Jimmy Burke, stood handcuffed. Panting,
literally foaming at the mouth, he glared at his assailant. And as he
glared, it was as if his single eye grew larger in his head. His thin
lips parted, though not a word escaped him; it was as if amazement had
struck him dumb.
The truth was, he found himself confronted by the most surprising part
of an incident which, from start to finish, was at once unlooked-for and
bewildering. For, the old man, bereft of his spectacles and beard,
stood before Crouch discovered and confessed; and in place of the grey
and patriarchal features of the so-called "Mr. Russell" was the seamed
and weather-beaten countenance of Rudolf Stork.