scientists. _The Times_ is enthusiastic over the discovery--declaring
that the Admiralty should secure it at once, if they have not already
done so. It's being made experimentally at Sheffield, it seems, and has
been tried in secret somewhere out near the Orkneys. Admiralty experts
are astounded at the results."

"Who is Emden?" I asked. "Just look at 'Who's Who?' It's by your elbow,
old chap."

Ray proceeded to search the fat red book of reference, and presently
exclaimed:

"It seems he's a Fellow of the Royal Society, a very distinguished
chemist, and a leading authority on electro-metallurgy and ferro-alloys.
He has improved upon the Kjellin furnace as installed at Krupp's at
Essen, and at Vickers, Sons, and Maxim's at Sheffield, and by this
improvement, it seems, has been able to invent the new steel-making
process."

"If he has improved upon any of the machinery or processes at the Krupp
works," remarked Vera, glancing across at me, "then, no doubt, our
friends across the North Sea will endeavour to filch the secret from
him."

"Yes," I agreed, "he certainly ought to be warned of his danger. As soon
as Hartmann sees the announcement in the papers, there's certain to be a
desperate attempt to get hold of the secret."

"That mustn't be allowed, my dear fellow," Ray exclaimed. "With such
steel as this the British Navy will have a splendid and distinct
advantage over that of our friend 'William the Sudden.' This is a great
and important secret which England must keep at all hazards."

"Certainly," declared Vera. "Really, Ray, you ought to see Professor
Emden and have a chat with him."

"His address is given at Richmond," was my friend's reply, "but I have
to go up to Selkirk early to-morrow, and shall be away nearly a week."

"Then shall I run down and see him this evening?" I suggested. And
agreeing with my idea, he wrote the address for me. Then we made a cup
of tea for Vera, who always delighted in the rough-and-ready bachelordom
of a barrister's chambers. Afterwards Ray took his fiancee home to her
aunt's, while I went back to my rather dismal lodgings in Guilford
Street, Russell Square.

At nine o'clock that evening I rang at a pleasant, good-sized, modern
house, which overlooked the beautiful Terrace Gardens and the river
lying deep below at Richmond--a house which, perhaps, commanded the
finest view within twenty miles of London.

The door was upon that main road which leads from the town up to the