"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.