Part 13 (1/2)

The bearded man was a complete stranger, hence Kennedy resolved to follow him when he reappeared, and try to establish his ident.i.ty. Being known to Drost and Ortmann, it was always both difficult and dangerous for him to follow either too closely. But with a stranger it was different.

Before twenty-four hours had pa.s.sed, the Flight-Commander had ascertained a number of interesting facts. The bearded man was known as Arthur Cole, and was an electrician employed at one of the County Council power-stations. He lived in Tenison Street, close to Waterloo Station, and was a widower.

Next day, on making further inquiry of shops in the vicinity, a woman who kept a newspaper-shop exclaimed:

”I may be mistaken, sir, but I don't believe much in that there Mr Cole.”

”Why?” asked Kennedy quickly.

”Well, 'e's lived 'ere some years, you know, and before the war I used to order for 'im a German newspaper--the Berliner-Something.”

”The _Berliner-Tageblatt_ it was, I expect.”

”Yes. That's the paper, sir,” said the woman. ”'E used to be very fond of it, till I couldn't get it any more.”

”Then he may be German?”

The woman bent over the narrow counter of her small establishment and whispered:

”I'm quite certain 'e is, sir.”

That night Seymour saw his well-beloved in the theatre between the acts, and told her the result of his inquiries. Then he returned to his vigil and watched the dingy house in Tenison Street, one of those drab London streets in which the sun never seems to s.h.i.+ne.

For three nights Kennedy remained upon constant vigil. On the fourth night, just as Ella was throwing off her stage dress at the conclusion of the show, she received a telegram which said: ”Gone north. Return soon. Wait.”

It was unsigned, but she knew its sender.

Four days she waited in eager expectation of receiving news. On the fifth night, just before she left for the theatre, Ortmann arrived to visit her father. She greeted him merrily, but quickly escaped from that detestable atmosphere of conspiracy, at the same time remembering that mysterious female intruder.

Who could she have been?

In the meantime Seymour Kennedy, who had obtained a few days' leave, had been living at the Central Hotel in that busy Lancas.h.i.+re town which must here be known as G--. To that town he had followed the man Cole and had constantly watched his movements. Cole had taken up his quarters at a modest temperance hotel quite close to the Central, which was the big railway terminus, and had been daily active, and had made several journeys to places in the immediate manufacturing outskirts of G--.

At last he packed his modest Gladstone bag and returned to London, Kennedy, in an old tweed suit, travelling by the same train.

On their arrival Kennedy took a taxi direct from Euston to the theatre.

When Ella had sent her dresser out of the room upon an errand, he hurriedly related what had occurred.

The man Cole had, he explained, met in G--a thin-faced, dark-haired young woman, apparently of his own social standing, a young woman of the working-cla.s.s, who wore a bra.s.s war-badge in the shape of a triangle.

The pair had been in each other's company constantly, and had been twice out to a manufacturing centre about six miles away, a place known as Rivertown.

Briefly he related what he had observed and what he had discovered.

Then he went out while she dressed, eventually driving with her to a snug little restaurant off Oxford Street, where they supped together.

”Do you know, Ella,” he asked in a low voice, as they sat in a corner, ”now that we've established the fact that the man Cole has visited your father, and also that he is undoubtedly implicated in the forthcoming plot, can it be that this young woman whom he met in G--is the same who entered your father's house on the night of my visit there?”

”I wonder!” she exclaimed. ”Why should she go there?”

”Out of curiosity, perhaps. Who knows? She's evidently on friendly terms with this electrician. Cole, who, if my information is correct, is no Englishman at all--but a German!”