Rap-tap!
That sound brought Dave Darrin out of a sound sleep. Dan slumbered on.
"Who's there at this hour of the night?" asked Dave, through the door, in the best Italian he could muster.
"From the 'Hudson,'" came the answer, in a voice so low that Dave did not recognize it.
"One minute, then."
Dave slipped back, shaking his chum to rouse him, then drew the curtains around Dalzell's bed.
In record time Dave drew on his own shirt, slipped into trousers, put on collar, cuffs and tie, and followed this with coat and vest.
Then he stepped to the door, opening it. Repressing his natural cry of astonishment, Dave silently admitted his visitors, next closed and locked the door.
"Orders from the Admiral," said Lieutenant Totten, in an undertone, and passed over the envelope.
Stepping under the light which he had hastily turned on, Darrin read his orders.
"Read this, Dan," said Dave, passing the letter of instructions to his chum, who was now also fully dressed. "Then I will read it once more, after which we will burn it."
"Suits me," commented Dan, when he had finished and was passing back the letter. "I've always wanted to see Paris."
"You won't see much of it this time," smiled Ensign Dave. "This is business, and nothing else."
Then Dave tore the letter into strips. Taking these to the open fireplace he set fire to them. All three officers watched until the letter had been completely burned.
"And now," Dave continued, "I will mix this charred paper thoroughly with the ashes that, fortunately, are left in the grate."
When he had finished, the mixing had been done so well that they would be keen eyes, indeed, that could note the presence of minute particles of burned paper in the grate's contents. His next act was to telephone the hotel clerk to send up a time-table.
"We have plenty of time, yet," smiled Darrin, glancing at his watch, after he had finished consulting the time-table. "It won't be the height of comfort to travel to Paris without baggage.However, when we get there we can buy anything that we may need."
"It will be great to shop in Paris," cried Dan, his eyes gleaming.
"Don't get the idea that we are going to do any running about in Paris," Dave warned his chum.
"Not even if we have some idle time there?"
"Not even then," Dave answered. "I am very sure that neither the Admiral nor the Ambassador would wish us to show ourselves much at the French capital. We might thereby attract the attention of spies."
"That is true," agreed Lieutenant Totten.
Business being now attended to, Dave and Dan had time to finish dressing comfortably. Then followed a period of waiting. Later the hotel clerk was asked to summon an automobile. In this the Paris-bound party, including Runkle, left the hotel, Totten accompanying them.
No sooner, however, had the American party left the hotel than an Italian, crouching in the shadow of a building further along on the same block, whispered to his companion:
"Telephone Signor Dalny for instructions."
Within three minutes a second automobile rolled up to the hotel.
"To the railway station first, on the chance of finding the Americans there," the spy called to the driver.
Dave's party did not have long to wait at the station. Totten remained with them to the last, however, that he might be able to report a safe start to the Admiral.
"Don't look, sir, but coming up behind you, I am certain, is a fellow I saw on the street outside the hotel just before we started," reported Seaman Runkle.
"Then we are being trailed," Dave said.
Not until the time came for starting did Lieutenant Totten shake hands hurriedly with his brother officers and leave them, though he still stood near the train.
Dave and Dan sprang into their compartment in one of the cars, Able Seaman Runkle following more slowly.
"There's that spy fellow getting on the running-board further down the train, sir," whispered Runkle.
"I expected him," answered Dave dryly.
"Would you like to lose him, sir?"
"Off the train altogether, do you mean, Runkle?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you put him off without hurting him?"
"I think I can get him off, sir, without even scraping one of his knuckles."
"You're at liberty to try, Runkle, if you are sure you won't injure the man."
As the guard came along, locking the doors, Runkle leaped down to the ground.
"Help, Mr. Totten, help!" called the seaman in a low voice that none the less reached the ears of the departing lieutenant.
Then Runkle moved directly up to the spy leering into his face and making insulting signs that caused the fellow to flush red.
"You're no good—savvy?" insisted Runkle in a low tone, making more faces and gestures.
So quickly was it done that the now thoroughly insulted spy, though he did not understand English, leaped at Runkle in a rage.
"He's going to try to rob me, sir!" cried Runkle, not very effectively dodging the blows that the fellow aimed at him.
"Here, what are you up to?" demanded Totten, also in English, as he reached out to grab the spy's collar.
In that strong grip the spy writhed, but could not escape.
"Thank you, sir," cried Runkle, with an unmistakable wink, after which he raced for the car and the compartment in which the two young ensigns waited.
"Lieutenant Totten is holding on to the chap, sir," announced Runkle gleefully. "He won't let him go until the train's out, either."
Holding the unlocked door open a crack, DanDalzell watched as the train pulled away from the station.
"Totten has him, and is explaining to a policeman," Dalzell chuckled. "That spy doesn't travel with us this trip."
"What's the odds?" asked Darrin, after a pause. "Dalny must belong to a big and clever organization. He can wire ahead to spies who will board the train later on and follow us into Paris."
"Then, with your leave, sir, I'll keep my eye open for spies until we're back aboard the flagship," suggested Runkle.
"Very good, so long as you break neither laws nor bones, Runkle," Dave laughed.
The Americans had the compartment to themselves. Had all been in uniform Runkle would not have been likely to travel in the same compartment with the young officers, but in citizen's dress much of discipline could be waived for greater safety.
Though Dan Dalzell did not now have much hope of sight-seeing in Paris, he was able, after dozing until daylight, to gaze interestedly out upon the country through which he was traveling.
Able Seaman Runkle was another absorbed window-gazer. As for Ensign Dave Darrin, while he caught many interesting glimpses of the scenery, his mind was mainly on the question of how the international plotters were planning to break thefriendship between the two strongest nations on earth.
By what means could these plotters sink a British ship, and yet make it appear to be the work of Americans?
Hundreds of miles had been traveled, and one day had swung far on into another before a plausible answer came to Darrin's mind.
Then Dave fairly jumped—the thing that Admiral Timworth so dreaded now looked quite easy.
"What's the matter?" asked Dan, staring at his chum.
"Why?" countered Dave.
"You jumped so hard," Dan replied.
"I was thinking."
"Stop it!" advised Danny Grin. "A little harder thinking than that might wreck the train."
Dalzell enjoyed every hour of the journey. In the daylight hours he was busy "taking in" all the country through which the train passed. In the evening hours, Dan was outside on the platform, at every station, to watch the crowds, large or small.
As for Seaman Runkle, that splendid lad was absorbed, almost to the point of gloom, in watching at every station for a sign of a spy on the train with them.
Before they reached the French-Italian frontier Dave realized, with a start, that Admiral Timworthhad failed to provide them with such credentials as would probably be called for in crossing the Italian-French frontier, and that they had forgotten to ask for such papers. However, at the frontier stop their friend Dandelli, the Italian naval officer, in uniform, almost ran into them. He was glad to vouch for the pair to the French and Italian guards at that point, and, after some hesitation, Dave and Dan were allowed to proceed into France.
"But be careful to have proper papers when returning, if you come this way," Dandelli smilingly warned them.
It was seven o'clock on the second morning after leaving Naples when the express reached Paris.
Hardly had the train stopped when Darrin and Dalzell were out and moving through the station. Seaman Runkle kept at a distance behind them, his sharp eyes searching for any signs of spies. But Runkle was able to make no report of success when he stepped into the taxicab in which his superior officers sat.
Danny Grin was again busy with his eyes as the taxicab darted through the beautiful streets of the French capital.
"What are you laughing at?" Dave asked suddenly, noting that Dan's grin was even wider than usual.
"Paris strikes me that way—that's all I can tell you," drawled Dan.
"Do you consider Paris a joke?" demanded Darrin.
"Of course not. But Paris has the name of being such a gay town—in peace times, of course. But at this early hour the city looks actually gray to me. If the look of the city doesn't improve, later in the day, I can't understand how any one can feel like being gay."
"Paris and the world have managed well enough, in the past, to combine for gayety," Dave replied. "Just now, of course, with all the men thinking of war, and so many women wearing black for dear ones they've lost at the front, the city can't show much of its former gayety. Paris is going through her ordeal of fire. These are dark days for good old France!"
Suddenly Dan's face fell grave.
"Now, what's the matter?" quizzed Darrin.
"I've just had a horrible thought," Dan confessed. "You haven't been concealing from me, have you, the fact that, though you had no frontier passport you have a letter or some form of credentials to the American Ambassador?"
"I haven't anything of the sort," Dave rejoined, he, too, now looking grave.
"A fine lay-out this is, then," growled Danny Grin. "Here we are, going to the AmericanAmbassador on a matter of the utmost delicacy. We are going to tell him and ask him some of the secrets of the United States government, and we haven't a scrap of paper to introduce us. Do you realize what we'll get? The Johnny-run-quick! We'll get the balluster slide, the ice-pitcher greeting! Dave, we're going to land hard on the sidewalk right in front of the Embassy. And then some frog-eating, Johnny Crapaud policeman will gather us in as disorderly persons! Fine!"
As the taxicab dashed around a corner Dave raised his cap.
"Well, this must be our destination," he announced. "I've just saluted Old Glory as it flutters over the building."
The taxicab came to a stop before a handsome building.
On each side of the posts of the gateway stood a brass shield on which was the inscription:
"Embassy of the United States of America."
Very gravely Dan and Runkle followed Dave, each raising his hat to the Flag as soon as his feet touched the sidewalk.
"There's a carriage entrance below," said Dave, "but we'll take the plain way and walk in."
Paying and dismissing the taxicab driver, Dave led the way to the entrance.
"A naval party to see the Ambassador, at his convenience, on business," Dave announced to the attendant at the door.
They were shown to an anteroom near thedoor, where they were soon joined by a Mr. Lupton, who introduced himself as Second Secretary to the Embassy.
"The ambassador, Mr. Caine, will not be here before nine o'clock," announced Mr. Lupton. "I know that you are expected. You have not breakfasted?"
"No," Dave confessed.
"Then I will ask you to let me be host. Before I lead the way I will ring for some one to see that your sailorman is well taken care of."
Five minutes later Darrin and Dalzell were seated at a small breakfast table with Mr. Lupton.
"Just before reaching here," began Dave, "it occurred to Mr. Dalzell and myself that we have, beyond our card-cases, no means of identification. Can you tell us how Mr. Caine will be sure that he is talking with the right persons?"
"I believe that will be arranged all right," smiled Mr. Lupton. "I, too, have taken you gentlemen on trust, but presently, I believe, we are going to be satisfied."
Two minutes later there stalked into the room a tall, handsome young man whose navy uniform set off his good figure to great advantage.
"Jetson?" exclaimed Dave, rising.
"The same," smiled the newcomer, advancing and holding out his hand.
He and Dave shook hands heartily, after which Dan came in for a similar greeting.
Readers of the Annapolis series will recall Jetson as being a fellow member of the Brigade of Midshipmen with Darrin and Dalzell at the U. S. Naval Academy. At one time, there, Dave and Jetson had not been good friends, but Dave had, at the very great risk of his own life, saved Jetson from drowning. Now, the two young officers were on excellent terms.
"I understand, now, what was darkness to me before," murmured Dave, after Jetson had seated himself at table. "Admiral Timworth knew that you were here, Jetson, and able to identify us."
"I have been here for three months," explained Jetson, smiling, "doing some work to assist the naval attaché of this Embassy, Commander Tupper. I have had three months of the hardest work in this old capital, but now, confound it, my work here has ended and I'm ordered to join my ship. The bridge and the quarter-deck are places of boredom to a fellow who has seen what I've seen here. Why, I've even made two trips up to the front—one of them to Verdun."
"Lucky dog!" cried Danny Grin, with feeling. "So you've seen some of the big fighting!"
"It may be well to state that I know fully the business on which you are ordered here," Jetsoncontinued, "so you may mention it freely before me if you are so inclined."
"Then can you tell me," Dave asked, "if it is known how our enemies propose to sink a British warship and make it appear to be the work of someone in the American Navy?"
"I cannot," Jetson replied. "In fact, it was only on receipt of a wireless from near Monte Carlo that the Ambassador had any knowledge that the international plotters intended to attempt the destruction of a British warship as a means for creating bad feeling between the two countries. The whole plot seems foolishly improbable to me."
"It doesn't seem so to me, any longer," rejoined Dave.
"Then you must know some thing that I haven't heard about," murmured Jetson curiously.
"Mr. Darrin," broke in Mr. Lupton, "I will be the Ambassador's authority for you to speak as freely of the matter as you choose."
Dave and Dan thereupon told all that had befallen them at Monte Carlo and at Naples.
"But still," Jetson broke in perplexedly, "how is the sinking of a British warship to be brought about with safety to the plotters, and how is the crime to be laid at the door of the American Navy?"
"I wish to speak to the Ambassador on that point before I mention it to any one else," Dave answered.
"Have you told Dalzell?" pressed Jetson.
"I have not."
"He certainly hasn't," complained Danny Grin sadly. "Dave always tells me after he has told every one else."
"Danny boy," Dave rebuked him, "where do you hope to go after you die?"
"Paris," Dalzell answered promptly.
Breakfast lasted until word came that the Ambassador was ready to receive the two young officers from the flagship of the Mediterranean Fleet. Then Jetson left his friends.
Mr. Caine, to whom Mr. Lupton presently introduced the ensigns, was a man in his fifties, rather bald, and with a decided stoop in his shoulders. At home he was a manufacturer of barbed wire, and his business, as Danny later suggested, had perhaps helped to give him some of his keenness and sharpness. He was slenderly fashioned, and reminded one, at first, of a professor in a minor college.
It was when the Ambassador transacted business that some of his sterling qualities came out. He was recognized as being one of the cleverest and ablest of American diplomats.
"I am glad to meet you, gentlemen," said theAmbassador, shaking hands with Dave and Dan and then motioning them to seats, which an attendant placed for them. "Mr. Lupton, you have doubtless had Jetson's assurance that these young men are the persons they claim to be?"
"Yes, sir," Lupton rejoined.
"Then tell me all you can of this matter," urged Mr. Caine.
At a look from Second Secretary Lupton, the attendant withdrew from the room. Dave and Dan were soon deep in the narration of events in which they participated at Monte Carlo and at Naples.
"I know the young Comte of Surigny," remarked Mr. Caine, "and I am deeply disappointed to learn that he is among our foes, and in such a mean capacity as the one in which he must be employed. The young man comes from one of the most ancient families in France, though he has never been well-to-do, for his ancestors attended to the insuring of his poverty. The gambling streak has run through several generations of the family."
Then Dave and Dan continued with their story, Ambassador Caine paying close attention to all they said.
"Gortchky is expected in Paris soon," announced the Ambassador presently.
"Is he, sir?" Darrin asked quickly. "Wouldit be indiscreet for me to ask if you know why he is coming here?"
"I have nothing more definite than suspicion," replied Mr. Caine. "Paris, which has one of the best detective systems of the world, is also noted as being the principal headquarters for conspiracies against governments. Not only do the anarchists and nihilists look upon Paris as their Mecca; but other scoundrels working out nefarious plans for wicked governments also meet here to lay their dastardly plots. Gortchky may be coming here to secure new agents to take the place of those already known to the Americans who are watching him and his men; or he may be coming here to hold a conference with the men higher up, who are directing his scoundrelly work against the peace of England and America."
"I take it, sir, that your secret service men will make every effort to find out what Gortchky does in Paris, and for what real purpose he is here, and—"
Here Ensign Dave Darrin broke off abruptly, coloring deeply.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he apologized hurriedly. "I had no right to ask you such a question."
"I have no objection to answering you," said the Ambassador seriously. "Of course my men will make every effort to find out what Gortchkyis up to here, if he comes to Paris, but I do not know how well they will succeed. In the game of making trouble between nations Emil Gortchky is an old and wary bird. It may very likely be that the fellow is coming to Paris only to try to draw my secret service men into the worst kind of a wild-goose chase leading only to clues that are worse than worthless. Gortchky, in other words, may be on his way to Paris only to draw our attention away from vital moves about to be made elsewhere by other members of his rascally band. Of course, on due complaint, we could have him arrested as a spy, and it would go hard with him here in Paris before a military court. But in that case there are others in the band of plotters whom we do not know and cannot locate. So, for very good reasons, we prefer to have Gortchky at large."
"I would like immensely to see Gortchky in Paris," Dave muttered.
"Perhaps you will have your wish," replied Mr. Caine, with an odd smile.
Soon after that the interview came to an end, but Dave and Dan remained in the Embassy building through the day. An attendant was sent out to get them what they needed in linen and other small items.
Dinner was to be served at seven o'clock, and, as Mr. Caine did not wish the presence of theyoung officers from the Mediterranean Fleet in his house to be known, it was arranged that they should dine in a smaller room alone with Mr. Lupton.
At six, however, the Ambassador sent in haste for Dave to come to his office.
"That invitation doesn't seem to include me," remarked Dalzell, rather ruefully, as he glanced up from a book he was reading in the Embassy library.
"I'm afraid it doesn't," Dave returned.
Mr. Caine was at his office desk, holding a telegram sheet in his hand.
"Gortchky is expected in town at 7.30 this evening, Mr. Darrin," announced the Ambassador.
"Is there anything that I can do in this matter, sir?" Darrin asked, after a pause.
"You may go and watch for Gortchky, if you think it possible to do so without his detecting you," Mr. Caine replied slowly.
"The opportunity would delight me beyond measure," Dave rejoined quickly. "I suppose I had better take a taxicab that I may be ready to give effective chase in case Emil Gortchky uses that kind of transportation."
"I can supply you with a taxicab and with a chauffeur who can be trusted," replied the Ambassador. "The driver I have in mind is a highly intelligent fellow who has many times beenemployed by me. And you can dismiss him at any point, or retain him as long as you wish. The bill for the taxicab charges will be sent to the Embassy. How soon do you wish to have this taxicab here?"
"Perhaps I should have it at once," Dave replied. "Gortchky would know me in these clothes at first glance, so it would be advantageous if I arranged to disguise myself. On the streets, as we came here, I noticed not a few young men wearing baggy suits of clothes of most un-American cut. They wore also flowing neckties, and some of them had blue eyeglasses. There are so many of these young men about that one more would hardly attract Gortchky's attention. That style of dress would make a good disguise for me."
"The young men you describe are largely students and artists," replied the Ambassador. "A disguise of that kind would be less conspicuous than any other."
"Then, sir, if the chauffeur can come here soon, he will have time to take me to stores where I can get the articles of apparel I need, and I shall still have plenty of time to meet Emil Gortchky if he reaches Paris this evening. I will go and tell Mr. Dalzell about Gortchky being expected to arrive here to-night."
"Tell Mr. Dalzell if you wish, but you had better not take him with you," replied Mr.Caine. "Two young men would attract more attention than one. I am approving of your undertaking this because, to date, you have learned more about this conspiracy than any three of the secret service men whom I have at my orders."
Dave hurried away to Dan, who was highly disappointed at being left out of the evening's work.
"But I have the joke on you, anyway," Danny Grin suddenly declared.
"How so?" asked Dave.
"I shall have my dinner," laughed Dalzell; "you won't have any."
"I could forget my meals for three whole days to stay on the trail of Gortchky," Dave answered, simply.
Then he hurried out, for the arrival of the taxicab was now announced. Darrin had a minute's conversation with the chauffeur, after which he entered the car.
One thing the young ensign quickly discovered, and that was that on the smooth pavements of Paris, and in the well-ordered traffic, taxicabs travel at a high rate of speed. Within five minutes he had been set down at the door of a shop in which he found it possible to buy every item of his disguise, even to shoes, for Darrin suddenly remembered that his footwear was plainly American.
In fifteen minutes more Dave Darrin emerged from the store. In one hand he carried his discarded clothing, packed in a new bag, which he turned over to the chauffeur for safe keeping. All of his money, except a small sum, he had left behind at the Embassy.
If any policeman had seen him enter the shop and come out again presenting so changed an appearance, and if for that reason the policeman should question him under the impression that Darrin might be a spy, Dave decided that he would rely upon his chauffeur to declare that he had been hired at the American Embassy. That statement would remove suspicion.
"You had better kill time for a few minutes," Dave explained to the chauffeur, who understood English. "It is not desirable to reach the railway station earlier than 7.20."
Accordingly the young ensign enjoyed a brief, rapid panoramic view of a considerable part of Paris. The driver, accustomed to taking Americans about who were strangers in the city, frequently turned his head to offer information as to the places or points of interest that they were passing.
"It's a shame that Danny boy isn't here to enjoy all this," Dave told himself. "Even this way of seeing Paris would be a great treat to him."
Almost to the second of 7.20 the taxicab drew up as one of a long line of similar vehicles under the bright lights of the railway station.
Alighting, Ensign Darrin, feeling rather well concealed in his disguise, and looking out through his blue-lensed eyeglasses, strolled about, careful not to saunter into the most brilliantly lighted spots.
Presently he heard a train enter the station. A thin stream of passengers filtered out. Dave promptly shifted his position and watched the arrivals, who later came out in a more compact throng.
And there was Emil Gortchky, at last, with no more marked hand luggage than a light cane, which he swung jauntily.
"I hope you don't look my way, my fine bird!" uttered Ensign Darrin under his breath. "But if you do, your observation won't do you much good."
A hand beckoned from a taxicab. Emil Gortchky, who had been on the lookout, sauntered over to the vehicle and clasped the hand of M. le Comte de Surigny.
"Surigny, the ungrateful!" uttered Dave disgustedly to himself. "I induced you to spare your own worthless life, and then when you found life sweet once more, you turned against me! I hope you did not notice me as you sat in that cab."
By this time Dave was at the side step of his own taxicab. A few words to the chauffeur, and he entered.
Surigny's cab drew out of the line, gliding away. The one in which Dave sat gave chase at a cautious distance.
Soon the speed of the leading cab increased, and the pursuing one followed at the same speed. After a considerable run both cabs turned into the broad, well-lighted Boulevard Haussman. For some blocks both cabs ran along. Then the one ahead turned in before an imposing-looking building with a gleaming white marble front.
"The Grand Prix Club," explained Dave's chauffeur, glancing back as he stopped on the other side of the boulevard some distance to the rear.
It was the Count of Surigny who left the cab, which then started forward.
"Is there gambling going on in that club?" asked Darrin, as his man started the car forward again.
"Naturally," replied the chauffeur, shrugging his shoulders.
"It is easy to understand, then," Dave muttered to himself. "Poor Surigny is no longer his own master in anything, for he is a slave to the gambling craze that ruins so many lives. Gortchky furnishes the young man with moneyfor gambling—lends it to him, of course, and thus keeps the Count desperately in his debt. And so the young Count has to do, when required, the bidding of the scoundrel who gloats over the helplessness of his dupe. Poor Surigny!"
Into less handsome avenues and streets the taxicabs now turned. Then a distinctly shabby looking part of Paris was unfolded to the gaze of the young naval officer.
"The Rue d'Ansin," announced the chauffeur, at last.
"A bad street?" Dave inquired.
"Yes."
"The haunt of criminals?"
"Criminals are seen here," the chauffeur explained, "but their real lurking places are in some of the alleys, farther along, that lead off from the Rue d'Ansin. Late at night, monsieur, it is better to ride through this street than to be afoot on the sidewalk!"
"Is it the part of Paris where one would come to meet or to confer with desperate criminals?" Dave asked.
"Many of the Apaches live hereabouts," replied the chauffeur, with another shrug.
Dave had read of these dangerous thugs, the so-called "Apaches," native toughs of Paris, who commit many bold robberies on the streets by night, and even, sometimes, by day, andwho seldom hesitate to kill a victim or a policeman if murder will render their own escape sure.
To an observer the Apache appears to be equally without fear and without conscience. The Apache is many degrees more dangerous than his more cowardly cousin, the "gun-man" of New York.
"I hope you will not have to take to the streets here, Monsieur," said the chauffeur.
"If I have to do that, I am not afraid to take a chance," Darrin answered, imitating the Frenchman's shrug with his own broad shoulders.
Ahead, Gortchky's taxicab was slowing down, and the pursuing vehicle did the same. Dave peered about to see if some one were waiting to be taken up by Gortchky, but, instead, Gortchky descended.
"Drive close to the curb on the other side of the street," whispered Darrin. "Merely slow down so that I may slip to the sidewalk. Then go ahead, waiting for me around the corner two blocks away."
"One block away would be better, Monsieur," urged the chauffeur.
"Make it two," Dave insisted crisply.
Stepping out on the running board, Dave leaned well forward, thus making it possible to close the door of his car as it slowed down. Then, as Dave stepped to the sidewalk, the taxicab moved forward more rapidly.
Searching in an inner pocket, Emil Gortchky, down the street on the other side, did not look up, and apparently did not observe the maneuver on the part of Dave's chauffeur. Dave slipped quickly into a darkened doorway, from which he could watch the international spy with little danger of being observed.
Taking out a little packet of papers, and moving toward a street lamp, Gortchky selected one of the papers, thrusting the rest back into his pocket. As he did so, one white bit fluttered to the sidewalk.
Reading under the street lamp the paper he had selected, Gortchky put that particular paper in another pocket. Then he turned abruptly, plunging into the depths of an alley-like street.
Sauntering slowly across the street, in order not to attract too much attention from other passers on the badly lighted Rue d'Ansin, Ensign Darrin, his gaze glued to that piece of paper, soon reached it and picked it up.
"For that scoundrel to drop this paper, of all others that he had in his pocket!" gasped Dave Darrin, as, under the street light, he took in its nature.
Then he paled, for this paper seemed to confirm absolutely the young ensign's suspicion as to the way in which the British battleship was to be destroyed.
All in a twinkling Dave's pallor vanished, for he had something else to think about.
On the alley-like side street a quick step was heard that Darrin recognized. It was that of Emil Gortchky, hastily returning to find the paper that he had dropped in the heart of Apache Land!
Like a flash Darrin thrust the paper into one of his own pockets. Then he turned, darting into a near-by doorway dark enough to conceal him from Gortchky's eyes, if he should look in that direction.
"I've no reason for fearing an encounter with Gortchky, unless he knows how to summon the murderous Apaches to his aid," Dave told himself as he pressed back as far as he could into his hiding place. "I don't want Gortchky, however, to know I'm watching him, and I don't want to lose this precious paper any more than he does."
Touching the door accidentally with the hand that rested behind his back, Dave was delighted to feel it swing slightly open. In another instant he had backed into a corridor, softly closing the door after him.
"Now Gortchky won't find me, and I'm all right, unless I am discovered by one of the occupants of this house, and turned over to the police as a burglar!" thought the young naval officer exultantly.
Gortchky's step, now slower, went by the door, which Dave had left ajar by only the tiniest crack.
"I cannot have lost that paper here, after all," Dave heard the international spy mutter in a low voice. "Certainly it has not been picked up, for I came back almost instantly, and there was no one near. It is not likely that I shall ever see that important little bit of paper again."
Yet for a few moments longer Dave heard the international spy moving about as though still searching. Then the fellow's footsteps died out as he went around the corner.
"I'll wait a few minutes before I step out," Darrin decided. "Gortchky may only be laying a trap, and even at this instant he may be peering around the corner to see if any one steps out of one of these doorways."
Waiting for what seemed to be a long time, but what was actually only a few minutes, the young ensign stepped out to the sidewalk again.
There were a few people on his own side of the block, and the sight of any one leaving a house was not likely to arouse curiosity in the minds of the denizens of that neighborhood.
As Dave neared the next corner, however, four rough-looking fellows came out of a little café. Their bearing was full of swagger. These young men, in dress half student and half laborer,with caps pulled down over their eyes and gaily-knotted handkerchiefs around their necks, displayed the shifting, cunning look that is found in the hoodlum everywhere.
As they reached the sidewalk, moving with the noiseless step peculiar to the Apache, they heard Darrin briskly coming along. Halting, they regarded him closely as he neared them.
"They look like hard characters," Dave told himself. "However, if I mind my business, I guess they'll mind theirs."
It was not to be. One of the Apaches, the tallest and slimmest of the lot, regarded Darrin with more curiosity than did any of the others.
"Ho!" he cried. "See how stiffly our little student carries himself! He must have been to see his sweetheart, and feels proud of himself."
"He has the stride of a banker," jeered another. "I wonder if he has his bank with him."
Dave's ear, quickly attuned to the French tongue, caught and understood the words.
"Let me see what you look like," urged the slim fellow, reaching out and plucking from Darrin's nose the blue eye glasses just as Dave was passing the group.
That gesture and the act were so insulting that Ensign Darrin could not keep back the flash that leaped into his eyes. He halted, regarding the Apache steadily.
"Why, bless me! He's an American!" cried the Apache. "All Americans are rich, you know. My friend, have you a few sous for a group of poor workingmen?"
Dave essayed to pass on. As he did so, a foot was thrust out. Dave saw the movement and leaped over the foot to avoid being tripped.
"At him!" hissed the slim Apache. "Let us shake out his pockets."
Dave sprang forward, although he knew that he could not hope to run away. Instead, he leaped to a wall, placing his back against it. There he halted, glaring defiantly at his assailants, his fists up and ready for instant action.
"Sail in! Trim him!" snarled the slim one. "If our little American shows fight—kill him!"
The first who reached Dave reeled back with a broken nose, for Darrin's first was hard.
"Stick the pig!" cried the leader, meaning that the young officer was to be stabbed. Not one of the four had a knife, it seemed.
As they surrounded him, the one with the injured nose having returned to the fray, that slim Apache drew out a sandbag, long and narrow, shaped like a sausage, made of canvas and filled with sand. This is one of the most deadly weapons in the world.
"Let us see what soothing medicine will do!" he jeered.
In an instant all four had brought sandbags to light, and all closed in upon the desperate American.
"Come on, you cowards!" roared Dave, forgetting his French and lapsing back into English. "If I go out I'll take one of you with me."
Trying to tantalize their victim, the Apaches made thrusts at Ensign Dave, and then leaped nimbly back. It was their hope that he would spring forward at them and thus leave his rear unguarded. It is easiest to use the sandbag on a victim from behind, though the tactics now employed were favorites with the Apaches.
Dave had sense enough to divine the nature of their trick. Unless the police arrived promptly he expected to be killed by these jeering scoundrels, but he was determined to sell his life dearly enough.
Suddenly the young naval officer saw his chance and used it. One of his dancing tormentors got in too close. Darrin's right foot shot up and out, landing across the Apache's knee-cap.
Uttering a howl of rage and pain, the fellow all but crawled back.
"Kill the American," he howled. "Don't play with him."
Instantly the three remaining assailants worked in closer, yet with all the caution of their wily natures.
"Rush me!" taunted Dave, again in English. "Don't be so afraid. If you mean to kill me why don't you show courage enough to do it? Come on, you sneaks!"
Though the Apaches could not understand what the young ensign said to them, they knew the drift of his jeering words. Their faces contorted with rage, they struck at him, Dave's arms working like piston rods in his efforts to ward off their blows.
Close to the wall, slipping along on tip-toe came a tall figure. Then suddenly a newcomer leaped into the picture.
Biff! smash! Struck from behind in the neck, two of the Apaches pitched forward, going to earth. Dave Darrin, with a feint, followed up with a swinging right-hand uppercut, laid the last of the Apaches low, for the fellow sitting in a doorway, nursing his knee and cursing, no longer counted.
"Quick! Out of here!" ordered the newcomer, seizing Dave by the arm and starting him along.
"Jetson!" gasped Ensign Darrin, looking into the face of his rescuer.
"Yes," answered his brother officer. "Hurry along!"
"Jetson, you've saved my life this time. That pack of wolves would have killed me in spite of my best defense."
"We're not out of trouble yet," retorted Jetson, fairly pushing Darrin along. "Those Apaches will revive in a few seconds."
"Pooh! Together, Jetson, we could thrash half a dozen of their kind, and find it only exercise."
"But, my boy, don't you realize that there are more than three or four Apaches around the Rue d'Ansin? The alarm will sound, and a score more will rush up. These rascals are sure death, Darry, if they get at you in sufficient numbers! The Parisians fear them. You don't see a single citizen on the street now. Look! Every one of them flew to cover as soon as the Apaches moved into action. If bystanders interfered, or even watched, they too would have to reckon with these Apaches. Now, Darry, you're no coward, and neither am I, but if you're wise you will imitate me by taking to your heels."
Still holding Dave's arm lightly, Jetson sprinted along to the next corner.
"To the right," whispered Dave. "I've a taxicab here."
More than halfway down the block they saw the car at the curb. The chauffeur, when Dave called, stepped from a doorway in which he had taken refuge.
"The Apaches!" gasped the driver.
"Hustle!" urged Dave. "Come on, Jetson."
As the two young naval officers sprang into the car, the driver leaped to his own seat. Pressing the self-starter, the chauffeur soon had his machine gliding along. Nor did he go back, either, by way of the Rue d'Ansin.
Not until he was four blocks away from the scene did the man ask for his orders.
"Back to the Embassy," Dave instructed him. Then he remembered his comrade's swift, fine rescue.
"Jetson," he asked, "did you know it was I who was menaced by the Apaches?"
"I did not," replied his brother officer. "But I heard enough, at a distance, to know that an American was in trouble. In Paris that is sufficient for me. Darry, I am delighted that I happened along in time."
"You saved my life, Jetson, and at the risk of your own. If you had missed one of the Apaches, or had lost your balance, your career would have been ended right there, along with mine."
"You risked your life for me, Darry, back in the old Annapolis days, so we are even," answered Jetson gently. "However, we won't keep books on the subject of brotherly aid. All I can say, Darry, is that I am glad I chose this night to call on an artist who lives in dingy quarters half a mile beyond where I found you. And I am also glad that I did not accept his invitationto supper, or I should have come along too late to serve you."
As soon as the machine had left them at the Embassy, Darrin sought out Mr. Lupton.
"May I see Mr. Caine at once?" asked the young officer.
"You have seen Gortchky, then?"
"Yes, and I have found what I consider positive proof as to the plans of Gortchky's crew."
"I think Mr. Caine can be seen," replied Lupton.
Ensign Darrin was soon with the American Ambassador, who nodded to Lupton to leave the room.
"Here, sir," began Darrin, "is a bit of paper that Gortchky dropped and which I picked up."
Mr. Caine scanned the paper.
"I do not see anything so very remarkable about it," he replied.
Dave whispered a few words in his ear.
"Is that true?" asked the Ambassador, displaying sudden agitation.
"Yes, sir."
"Then I believe you are right, Darrin," gasped the Ambassador, sinking back into his chair, his face paling slightly. "Oh the villains!"
"Then you believe, sir, that I have really discovered the plot?" asked Dave, who looked only a whit less agitated.
"If what you have just told me is true, then it must be that you have made a correct guess."
"Will you send word by wireless to Admiral Timworth, then, sir?"
"I dare not trust such news, even to the cipher, which the international gang thought they had filched, and which they did not get," replied Mr. Caine. "I believe that the wisest course will be for you to take the midnight train to Genoa."
"Then I shall take this paper with me?"
"Yes, Mr. Darrin, for the Admiral is far more capable than I of estimating it at its true worth. It is a matter for a naval man to comprehend and decide."
The Ambassador did not neglect to provide the young ensign with documents, approved by the French Foreign Office, that would take them safely over the border into Italy on their return trip.
"Friends tell me that in being in the Navy I have such a grand chance to see the world," grumbled Dan Dalzell, as the launch headed for the anchorage of the American warships. "I went to Paris and had two short taxicab rides through the city. That was all I saw of Paris. Then a long railway journey, and I reached Genoa. I spent twenty-eight minutes in Genoa, and boarded this launch. Oh, I'm seeing the world at a great rate! By the time I'm an admiral I shall know nearly as much of the world as I did when I studied geography in the Central Grammar School of Gridley."
"Don't be a kicker, Danny boy," smiled Dave. "And just think! When you get home, if any one asks you if you've been in Paris, you can say 'Yes.' Should any one ask you if you've seen Genoa, you can hold up your head and declare that you have."
"But my friends will ask me to tell them about those towns," complained Dalzell.
"Read them up in the guide books," advisedJetson, who was of the party. "I've known a lot of Navy officers who got their knowledge of foreign places in that way."
Dave and Dan had had but a fleeting glimpse of the fine city that now lay astern of them. Hundreds of sailormen and scores of officers, on sight-seeing bent, had been ashore for two days.
But now the recall to the fleet had come. All save Darrin, Dalzell and Jetson, with Seaman Runkle, who was now up forward on the launch, were already aboard their respective ships. The Admiral waited only for the coming of this launch before he gave the sailing order.
Jetson was assigned to the battleship "Allegheny," a craft only a trifle smaller than the massive "Hudson."
The three brother officers and Runkle had traveled by express from Paris to Genoa, and had come through without incident. At last even the watchful Runkle was convinced that they had eluded all spies.
"Boatswain's Mate," said Dave, "as this launch belongs to the flagship, it will be better to take Mr. Jetson, first, over to his ship."
"Aye, aye, sir," responded the man in charge of the launch.
Twenty minutes later Dave Darrin found himself leading his own party up over the side of the "Hudson."
"Captain Allen wishes to see Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell at once," announced Lieutenant Cranston, the officer of the deck. "You will report to the Captain without further instructions."
"Very good, sir," Dave answered, saluting.
Exactly ten minutes later the two young ensigns were ushered into the presence of their commanding officer.
"Admiral Timworth has been notified by wireless from Paris that you have important communications to make to him," began the Captain. "I will not waste your time or the Admiral's in questioning you here. You will come with me to the fleet commander's quarters. The Admiral is awaiting you."
Admiral Thomas Timworth, seated at his desk, and with his flag lieutenant standing by, greeted his callers with exceeding briskness.
"Gentlemen," he said, "time presses, and we must dispense with formalities. Ensign Darrin, I am advised by the Ambassador at Paris of the importance of your news, but he does not tell me what the news is."
"Its importance, sir, depends on whether the evidence I have to present supports the guess I have made as to the nature of the plot that has been planned against the peace and safety of Great Britain and our own country."
As Dave spoke he produced from an inner pocket the sheet of paper dropped by Gortchky, that he had picked up in the Rue d'Ansin.
"This piece of paper, sir," Darrin continued, passing it to the fleet commander, "is one that IsawEmil Gortchky drop from a packet of several papers that he took from his pocket at night on one of the worst streets in the slums of Paris."
Admiral Timworth scanned the paper, then read it aloud. It was a receipted bill, made out in the name of one unknown to those present, though perhaps an alias for Gortchky himself. The bill was for a shipment of storage batteries. At the bottom of the sheet was a filled-in certificate signed by a French government official, to the effect that the batteries had been shipped into Italy "for laboratory purposes of scientific research." Just below this statement was an official Italian certificate of approval, showing that the batteries had been admitted into Italy. In time of war, with the frontier guarded tenfold morevigilantlythan in ordinary times, such certificates are vitally necessary to make shipments from France into Italy possible.
"In other words, sir," Dave went on eagerly, when the fleet commander scanned his face closely, "it needed some very clever underhand work, very plausibly managed, to make it possibleto buy those batteries in France and to secure their admittance into Italy."
"Why?" quizzed Admiral Timworth, as though he did not know the answer himself.
"Because, sir," Dave went on keenly, full of professional knowledge of the subject, "these batteries are the best that the French make for use aboard submarines."
"True," nodded the fleet commander. "What then?"
"Why, sir, by the use of the cleverest kind of lying that spies can do, Gortchky and his associates have hoodwinked the French and Italian governments into believing that the batteries are to be lawfully used for research purposes, when, as a matter of fact, they are to be used aboard a submarine which the plotters intend to use for destroying a British battleship."
"We will admit, then," said Admiral Timworth, as a poser, "that the plotters have probably gotten into Italy storage batteries that can be used serviceably on a submarine. But where and how can the plotters have obtained the submarine craft itself? Or, if they haven't got it yet, how are they to obtain one? For submarines are not sold in open market, and it would be difficult to steal one."
"I cannot answer that, as yet, sir," Dave admitted gravely.
"And such storage batteries might be used for purposes of scientific research," continued the fleet commander.
"Yes, sir; but the habits of the buyers should be considered, should they not? Gortchky and his associates can be hardly believed to be interested in science. On the other hand, they are arch plotters, which would lead us to suppose that they have bought these batteries to further a plot. Outside of scientific work the batteries would not be likely to be used anywhere except on board a submarine. Storage batteries of different size and pattern are used for industrial purposes, but those described in this bill are used on board submarines."
"Your reasoning is plausible, Darrin, and probably correct, too," nodded Admiral Timworth.
"Besides which, sir," Dave pressed home, "if we admit that the plotters have conspired to sink a British battleship at Malta, the easiest way in war-time, when unidentified strangers cannot get aboard a warship, would be to effect the sinking by means of a submarine's torpedo. And, if this be the plan of the plotters, then the crime is likely to be attempted only when there are British and American war craft, and none others, in the Grand Harbor of Malta."
"Yet surely the plotters must know that, between good friends like Britain and America, itwould take more than the mere sinking of a British ship to make the English suspect us, as a nation, of being involved in such a dastardly plot."
"Our country couldn't be suspected, as a government or a nation, of being guilty of such a wicked deed," Dave answered. "But Englishman and Frenchmen might very easily believe that the torpedoing was the work of a group of officers and men in our Navy who hated England enough to strike her below the belt. With the British ship sunk, sir, and with none to suspect but the Americans, there is no telling to what heights British passion might rise. The British are feeling the tension of the great war severely, sir."
"There is one flaw in your reasoning, Mr. Darrin," Admiral Timworth replied. "We will admit that the torpedoing happens at a time when only American and British war craft are visible in Grand Harbor. Why would it not be wholly reasonable for the British to suppose that the torpedoing was the work of a German submarine that had sneaked into the harbor of Malta under the surface of the water?"
"That occurred to me, sir," Dave admitted, "and at first I couldn't find the answer, but at last I did."
"I shall be glad to hear that answer."
"The submarine, let us suppose, sir, dischargesone torpedo with such accuracy as to sink the British battleship. Why could not another torpedo be fired immediately, which would not strike, but would rise to the surface and be afterwards identified when found as an American torpedo? For a torpedo that does not strike and explode can be so adjusted that it will afterwards sink or rise and float. And this torpedo that rises can be of American pattern."
"But where would the plotters secure an American torpedo?" demanded Admiral Timworth.
"The plotters, if they had a secret factory, could make some torpedoes of the American type, provided they had obtained the services of a draftsman and workmen familiar with the American torpedo."
"That could be accomplished, in this wicked old world of ours," nodded Admiral Timworth, after an interval of deep thought. "I won't declare that I think it really has been done. Yet your various reports to me, Mr. Darrin, convince me that plotters really intend to sink a British battleship and lay the blame at our country's door. And such a deed might really provoke English clamor for war with our country."
In the Admiral's quarters a long silence followed.
At length the fleet commander looked up.
"Captain Allen," he asked, "what do you think of Mr. Darrin's surmise?"
"It looks probable to me," said the "Hudson's" commanding officer promptly.
"It looks likely to me, also," sighed Admiral Timworth.
Then the famous old sea-dog brought his clenched fist down on his desk with a bang.
"Malta shall be our next stop," he declared. "We shall see whether any band of plotters can put such a plot through while we are watching! All mankind would shudder at such a tragedy. All the world would side with England and condemn the United States and her Navy! Gentlemen, I now believe that Mr. Darrin has revealed the details of a plan that will be tried. We must prevent it, gentlemen! We shall prevent it—or some of us will lose our lives in the effort to stop it! Darrin, you shall have your chance in helping us to stop it. Mr. Dalzell, you, too, shall have your chance! And now—Malta."