Submarine U93

The more they thought about the whole strange, mysterious business, the more was it apparent that they were face to face with plain matter-of-fact. It was now obvious that the written message was nothing more than the memorandum of an address. Every Londoner knows the Edgware Road. Stork, however, or perhaps Rosencrantz or von Essling, the German military attaché, had thought it advisable to write it down, and that in such a manner that it would be extremely improbable that any one else could read it.

Captain Crouch was once again upon his feet, limping backwards and forwards from one end of the room to the other, talking in a quick, excited voice, and flinging his arms about him like a windmill.

"We must go to London at once," he cried. And at that, he hastened from the room, to find the whole hotel in complete darkness. The "Goat and Compasses" kept late hours as a rule; but it was now two o'clock in the morning, and everyone had long since gone to bed. Crouch found his bedroom candle and lit it, and with the aid of this searched the smoking-room for a South-Western Railway time-table, a copy of which he at length succeeded in finding. Licking the end of his second finger, he turned over the pages so rapidly that he tore several in half.

"Here we are!" he cried. "There's a workmen's train at three-fifteen. We'll catch that, and be in London before daybreak."

Crouch woke up the proprietor in order to pay his bill, concerning which neither was much inclined to argue, the one being too sleepy and the other in too great haste even to count his change. They had little in the way of luggage, and Crouch had been well supplied with money by Mr. Jason, who was determined that Jimmy Burke should want for nothing. Accordingly, in little more than an hour after they had discovered that Stork's message was nothing more or less than a simple acrostic cypher, they were speeding to London at the rate of forty miles an hour, both sound asleep on the comfortable cushions in a first-class railway carriage.

Crouch had his own rooms in Pimlico, where he had constituted his headquarters-so to speak-and where he rented two rooms, divided one from the other by folding doors. In one was a camp-bed and a veritable armoury of big-game rifles and shotguns; whereas the other, which he called the dining-room, contained a table, a few basket chairs, and many kinds of curios from all parts of the world. The walls of both rooms were adorned with the heads and antlers of many rare animals: waterbuck and koodoo, white and black leopards, jaguars, tigers and lions.

Thither, on a cold, dark, wintry morning, Crouch and his young companion hastened immediately on their arrival at Waterloo, chartering the only taxi that was to be found at that early hour.

First, it was necessary to have breakfast, during which Crouch explained that it would be certainly advisable for them to disguise themselves. In all probability, Stork would repair to the house in the Edgware Road, and it would never do for them to be recognized. They had the whole morning at their disposal, and it must be admitted that the precautions that the little sea-captain deemed it expedient to take bordered on the ludicrous.

For himself he purchased an extremely vulgar-looking shepherd's plaid suit, a flaming red tie, and a white bowler hat which he set jauntily on the side of his head at a very acute angle.

As for Jimmy, it has been stated that he was a fair boy, with light brown hair. That was now dyed completely black. A similar darkening of the eyebrows, carried out by an expert in the art of "making up," completed the boy's disguise, to the complete satisfaction of Captain Crouch and the delight of Jimmy himself.

"My lad," said Crouch, "I'd lay a sheet-anchor to a safety-pin your best friend wouldn't know you now. As for me, I'll go so far as to shave off my moustache and beard."

A little after, he entered a barber's shop, and having fulfilled his promise, looked, without his moustache and small imperial beard, even more formidable than ever. His great, square, protruding chin suggested a determined and aggressive nature; whereas his thin, tightly compressed lips proved convincingly enough that here was a man who could not be trifled with.

They lunched together in a fashionable restaurant in the West End, where Crouch, in the strange and wonderful costume, was evidently under the impression that he was cutting a dash. Thence, arm-in-arm, they sallied forth up Regent Street and along Oxford Street, in the direction of the Edgware Road, entering a gunsmith's on the way and purchasing a brace of revolvers and a score of rounds of ammunition.

They found Number 758 to be a large block of unoccupied flats. Crouch stationed himself on the opposite side of-the road, and regarded the building for some time in silence.

"There's one thing about the place which is suspicious," he observed. "Do you notice that every one of those flats is unoccupied, with the exception of one on the first floor? On the ground floor are shop premises, also 'To let.' Now, when you come to think of it, that is a very remarkable thing. This is a popular and central part of London, and one moreover in which rents are fairly moderate. Also, the agent's notice on the ground floor has, by the look of it, been there for months. Come, my boy, we'll look into the matter. But have your revolver ready in case of an emergency, don't hesitate to use it, and take your lead from me."

So saying, the little captain stepped across the street, and rang the bell of Number 758, Edgware Road.

They did not have to wait long before the door was opened by an old woman with a shawl about her shoulders, who asked who they were in an exceedingly squeaky voice.

"Are you Mr. Russell?" she piped, the moment she set eyes upon Captain Crouch.

Crouch thought for a moment before he answered.

"I won't say I'm not," said he; "on the other hand, I won't go so far as to say I am. The main question is, who are you?"

"I'm Mrs. Wycherley," said the old woman, "her that looks after the flat. And if you're Mr. Russell, the rooms are well aired and the fires was a-lighted this morning."

"Ha!" said Crouch. "That's just as it should be. I and my friend will go upstairs."

At that, without a moment's hesitation, he brushed past the old woman and ascended the stairs to the first floor, whither Mrs. Wycherley followed him, muttering a great deal to herself on the subject of "the rheumatics."

"Where's the key?" demanded Crouch.

There was an air of self-assurance about him that would have deceived a Russian diplomat, to say nothing of a London charwoman of about seventy years of age. Mrs. Wycherley, producing the key, flung open the door of one of the first-floor flats and ushered in both Jimmy Burke and Captain Crouch.

They found themselves in a small self-contained flat, consisting of three rooms and a kitchen. These rooms were not only tastefully, but even expensively, furnished; whereas the kitchen was complete as far as furniture and cooking utensils were concerned.

Crouch had a good look round, and then, producing his blackened briar pipe, seated himself in the most comfortable armchair in the dining-room, and proceeded to smoke at his leisure. Both Jimmy and the charwoman remained standing.

"There are a few points," said Crouch, fixing the old lady with the mouthpiece of his pipe, in much the same way as a man would point a pistol, "there are one or two things I would like to know."

"Begging your pardon, sir," said the woman, "if you're a friend of Mr. Russell's, and Mr. Russell knows you're here, well and good. But if you ain't, might I make so free as to ask your business, because my daughter, Emily Jane, lies a-dying, and that's as true as I'm standing here, and it's no time for me to be gossiping with gents with white hats, nor black neither."

She had spoken exceedingly fast, from time to time lifting her voice to a higher key, until at last she pulled up short, apparently for want of breath, having reached the topmost note she was capable of producing.

"Mum," said Crouch, "don't you get fidgety. I'm an honest man, though a dog-breeder by profession. As for Russell, he knows me well enough, or he was never a ship's carpenter that cut off in a dinghy with the ship's cook and the cook's mate. So you may set your mind at rest."

Old Mrs. Wycherley, who had not the least idea as to what Crouch was talking about, folded her arms, and nodded her head as in approval.

"If you're a friend of Mr. Russell's," said she, "I'm sure it's all right. Perhaps you don't know, sir, that I'm expecting him here this evening."

"Is that so?" said Crouch. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Maybe you'll stay," said the old woman, "until Mr. Russell arrives?"

"I will that," said Crouch, feeling in his coat pocket for his revolver. Then, in a changed voice, he remarked, "These are fairly comfortable rooms."

"Comfortable!" exclaimed the old woman. "Fit for a king, I calls them. And that clean you could eat your dinner off of the carpet, as no one knows better than me who've worked day and night as I'm a living woman."

"When did Mr. Russell leave?" asked Crouch.

"Leave! Why he ain't never come since the flat was took."

"And when was that?"

"On the fourth of August, sir. My memory ain't of the best, and I only recollect the date because it was on that day, sir, that this here 'orrible war broke out. The fourth of August was the date, or I ain't never been married, which I've lived to repent ever since the very moment the ring was put on me finger."

Crouch sat silent for a moment, mersed in thought, filling the room with clouds of his evil-smelling tobacco smoke.

"How is it," he asked at length, "that none of the other flats in the building have been taken?"

"There's no knowing," said the old woman. "But the fact is, that since August no one, saving yourself, ain't been near the place."

Crouch drew a whistle and looked across at Jimmy; then, once more, he turned to Mrs. Wycherley.

"And what about Emily Jane?" he asked.

"She was took bad three weeks ago, and ain't left her bed for a fortnight. And it's my solemn belief as all her blood's turned to water."

Whereupon, as the old woman showed signs of tears, Crouch thought it advisable to change the subject; which he did with great dexterity.

"How do you know," he asked, "that Mr. Russell arrives this evening?"

"Because Mr. Valentine rung me up on the telegraph, and said as I was to have the rooms ready by eight o'clock this evening."