I ascended to the first floor, and entered the saloon, where I found the German with whom before luncheon I had spoken. He was seated alone, reading a newspaper. "Ach, sir!" he exclaimed; "I thought perhaps you had left! I'm very glad you are still here! A most curious circumstance occurred this afternoon when I went off duty as usual from three till five. I live in Forth Street, at the back of the Theatre Royal, and while walking towards home along Broughton Street, I came face to face with the gentleman for whom you are searching." "You've seen him!" I gasped, half inclined to disbelieve the man's story, for he was evidently on the look-out for a substantial tip. "Yes, he recognised me, and tried to avert his face. But I managed to get a good look at him, and am absolutely certain that I'm not mistaken. He was dressed differently, and looks many years younger than when I first saw him wearing his beard." "Then he is still in hiding here!" I gasped quickly. "Did you follow him?" "I did. I had to exercise considerable caution, for he evidently fears that he is being traced. His attitude was essentially that of a man dreading recognition. He may be suspicious that you are here, sir." "But have you discovered where he is living?" I demanded breathlessly, my heart leaping. "Yes, sir," replied the German; "I have." CHAPTER THIRTEEN. I LEARN SOMETHING INTERESTING. Ten minutes later I was with the German hairdresser on a tram-car, going up Regent Road, towards Abbey Hill. On turning into the London Road at the station, we descended, and, crossing the main thoroughfare, entered one of the narrow, ill-lit turnings on the left, the name of which I was unable to see. "I don't know whom to ask for," I remarked to my companion, as we hurried along together. "I can only point you out the house where your friend is in hiding," replied the man. "You, of course, know more of his habits than I do." In a few moments we passed before a tall, drab, dingy-looking house, which the German pointed out was the false Professor's secret abode. I longed for the presence of Kershaw Kirk, for I knew not how to act. I reflected, however, that the reason of my journey to Edinburgh was to clear up the mystery, and this thought prompted me to action. So while he waited in the semi-darkness at the next corner, I returned to the house and rang the bell. To the door came a rather dishevelled girl of about eighteen, evidently the daughter of the occupier. "You have a gentleman living here," I said. "Would you kindly tell him that Mr. Kirk desires to see him?" "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!