That same night, soon after eleven, Ray Raymond returned to the "King's Head," arriving by the last train from London.
"We must keep a wary eye upon that publican Bramberger, Jacox," he whispered when we were alone together in my bedroom. "You must deal with him. Frequent the 'Goat and Binnacle,' and see what's in progress there."
"Vera is at Chelmsford, I see," I remarked casually.
"Yes," he said, "she's already on friendly terms with Freeman. You've seen her, I suppose?"
"Well, to-morrow I shall leave here again, to reappear in Maldon as a river-side labourer," he said. "You will retain your rôle of electrician, and patronise the homely comforts of our friend Bramberger's house."
He spoke with that clear decision which characterised all his actions, for in the investigation of any suspicion of the presence of spies, he first formed his theory, and then started straight away to prove it to his own satisfaction.
Next day soon after one o'clock I re-entered the low-built little river-side inn and found within a few bargemen and labourers gossiping, as such men will gossip. The landlord who served me eyed me up and down as though half inclined to recognise me, so I recalled the fact that I had been in his house a week or so ago.
Whereupon he immediately became communicative, and we had a friendly glass together. I told him that I had concluded my job--in order to account for my hours of idleness in the days that were to follow--and I then became a regular customer, seldom leaving before the house closed.
Bramberger was one day visited by the German mate of the timber-ship which had just come in, the man of his own nationality who had been in the bar on the night of our arrival at Maldon, and who seemed to be well known to his usual customers, for apparently he made regular visits from across the North Sea.
I noticed that during the afternoon they were closeted together in the landlord's private room, and during the evening they drank in company.
The return of this German at once aroused my suspicions, therefore at ten o'clock, instead of returning to the "King's Head," I concealed myself at the waterside and there waited. It was an intensely cold vigil, and as the time crept by, and the church clock struck hour after hour, I began to fear that my suspicions were unfounded.