“The gentleman’s no longer here, sir,” replied the girl, in broad Scotch.
“Gone!” I ejaculated.
“Yes, sir. Mr Martin’s who you mean, I suppose, for he’s the only gentleman mother has had. He packed his things, and left for the station an hour ago.”
My heart fell. He had evidently realised that the German was following him, and had escaped us!
“Can I see your mother?” I asked. Whereupon I was invited into the small narrow hall of the musty-smelling house, and a thin-faced, angular woman in rusty black came forward.
“Pray pardon my troubling you,” I said apologetically, “but I have an urgent message to give to Mr Martin, who, I understand, has been staying with you.” It was an advantage that the girl had unwittingly betrayed the name which the false Professor had adopted.
“Mr Martin’s gone, sir. He left this evening.”
“So your daughter tells me. But haven’t you any idea where he intended going?”
The woman hesitated, and by that slight pause I felt convinced she knew something which she intended keeping to herself.
“No, sir, he left quite suddenly,” was her hurried reply. “He had been out all day, and, returning about five, packed up his things, paid me what he owed me, together with a week’s rent in lieu of notice, and, getting a cab, drove away.”