[CHAPTER XVIII--"Mr. Russell"]
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.