Off a lonely wharf in a deserted part of the coast some miles from the promontory which afforded Del Mar his secret submarine harbor, a ship was riding at anchor.
On the wharf a group of men, husky lascars, were straining their eyes at the mysterious craft.
"Here she comes," muttered one of the men, "at last."
From the ship a large yawl had put out. As she approached the wharf it could be seen that she was loaded to the gunwales with cases and boxes. She drew up close to the wharf and the men fell to unloading her, lifting up the boxes as though they were weighted with feathers instead of metal and explosives.
Down the shore, at the same time, behind a huge rock, crouched a rough looking tramp. His interest in the yawl and its cargo was even keener than that of the lascars.
"Supplies," he muttered, moving back cautiously and up the bluff. "I wonder where they are taking them?"
Marcus Del Mar had chosen an old and ruined hotel not far from the shore as his storehouse and arsenal. Already he was there, pacing up and down the rotted veranda which shook under his weight.
"Come, hurry up," he called impatiently as the first of the men carrying a huge box on his back made his appearance up the hill.
One after another they trooped in and Del Mar led them to the hotel, unlocking the door.
Inside, the old hostelry was quite as ramshackle as outside. What had once been the dining-room now held nothing but a long, rickety table and several chairs.
"Put them there," ordered Del Mar, directing the disposal of the cases."Then you can begin work. I shall be back soon."
He went out and as he did so, two men seized guns from a corner near-by and followed him. On the veranda he paused and turned to the men.
"If any one approaches the house—any one, you understand—make him a prisoner and send for me," he ordered. "If he resists, shoot."
"Yes, sir," they replied, moving over and stationing themselves one at each angle of the narrow paths that ran before the old house.
Del Mar turned and plunged deliberately into the bushes, as if for a cross country walk, unobserved.
Meanwhile, by another path up the bluff, the tramp had made his way parallel to the line taken by the men. He paused at the top of the bluff where some bushes overhung and parted them.
"Their headquarters," he remarked to himself, under his breath.
Elaine, Aunt Josephine and I were on the lawn that forenoon when a groom in resplendent livery came up to us.
"Miss Elaine Dodge?" he bowed.
Elaine took the note he offered and he departed with another bow.
"Oh, isn't that delightful," she cried with pleasure, handing the note to me.
I read it: "The Wilkeshire Country Club will be honored if Miss Dodge and her friends will join the paper chase this afternoon. L.H. Brown, Secretary."
"I suppose a preparation for the fox or drag hunting season?" I queried.
"Yes," she replied. "Will you go?"
"I don't ride very well," I answered, "but I'll go."
"Oh, and here's Mr. Del Mar," she added, turning. "You'll join us at the Wilkeshire hunt in a paper chase this afternoon, surely, Mr. Del Mar?"
"Charmed, I'm sure," he agreed gracefully.
For several minutes we chatted, planning, then he withdrew. "I shall meet you on the way to the Club," he promised.
It was not long before Elaine was ready, and from the stable a groom led three of the best trained cross-country horses in the neighborhood, for old Taylor Dodge, Elaine's father, had been passionately fond of hunting, as had been both Elaine and Aunt Josephine.
We met on the porch and a few minutes later mounted and cantered away. On the road Del Mar joined us and we galloped along to the Hunt Club, careful, however, to save the horses as much as possible for the dash over the fields.
. . . . . . .
For some time the uncouth tramp continued gazing fixedly out of the bushes at the deserted hotel.
Suddenly, he heard a noise and dropped flat on the ground, looking keenly about. Through the trees he could see one of Del Mar's men stationed on sentry duty. He was leaning against a tree, on the alert.
The tramp rose cautiously and moved off in another direction to that in which he had been making his way, endeavoring to flank the sentry. Further along, however, another of Del Mar's men was standing in the same attentive manner near a path that led from the woods.
As the tramp approached, the sentry heard a crackle of the brush and stepped forward. Before the tramp knew it, he was covered by a rifle from the sentry in an unexpected quarter.
Any one but the sentry, with half an eye, might have seen that the fear he showed was cleverly feigned. He threw his hands above his head even before he was ordered and in general was the most tractable captive imaginable. The sentry blew a whistle, whereat the other sentry ran in.
"What shall we do with him," asked the captor.
"Master's orders to take any one to the rendezvous," responded the other firmly, "and lock him up."
Together they forced the tramp to march double quick toward the old hotel. One sentry dropped back at the door and the other drove the tramp before him into the hotel, avoiding the big room on the side where the men were at work and forcing him up-stairs to the attic which had once been the servant's quarters.
There was no window in the room and it was empty. The only light came in through a skylight in the roof.
The sentry thrust the tramp into this room and tried a door leading to the next room. It was locked. At the point of his gun the sentry frisked the tramp for weapons, but found none. As he did so the tramp trembled mightily. But no sooner had the sentry gone than the tramp smiled quietly to himself. He tried both doors. They were locked. Then he looked at the skylight and meditated.
Down below, although he did not know it, in the bare dining-room which had been arranged into a sort of chemical laboratory, Del Mar's men were engaged in manufacturing gas bombs much like those used in the war in Europe. Before them was a formidable array of bottles and retorts. The containers for the bombs were large and very brittle globes of hard rubber. As the men made the gas and forced it under tremendous pressure into tubes, they protected themselves by wearing goggles for the eyes and large masks of cloth and saturated cotton over their mouths and noses.
Satisfied with the safety of his captive, the sentry made his way down-stairs and out again to report to Del Mar.
At the bungalow, Del Mar's valet was setting the library in order when he heard a signal in the secret passage. He pressed the button on the desk and opened the panel. From it the sentry entered.
"Where is Mr. Del Mar?" he asked hurriedly, looking around. "We've been followed to the headquarters by a tramp whom I've captured, and I don't know what to do with him."
"He is not here," answered the valet. "He has gone to the Country Club."
"Confound it," returned the sentry, vexed at the enforced waste of time. "Do you think you can reach him?"
"If I hurry, I may," nodded the valet.
"Then do so," directed the sentry.
He moved back into the panel and disappeared while the valet closed it.A moment later he, too, picked up his hat and hurried out.
At the Wilkeshire Club a large number of hunters had arrived for the imitation meet. Elaine, Aunt Josephine, Del Mar and myself rode up and were greeted by them as the Master of Fox Hounds assembled us. Off a bit, a splendid pack of hounds was held by the huntsman while they debated whether to hold a paper chase or to try a drag hunt.
"You start your cross-country riding early," commented Del Mar.
"Yes," answered Elaine. "You see we can hardly wait until autumn and the weather is so fine and cool, we feel that we ought to get into trim during the summer. So we have paper chases and drag hunts as soon as we can, mainly to please the younger set."
The chase was just about to start, when the valet came up. Del Mar caught his eye and excused himself to us. What he said, we could not hear, but Del Mar frowned, nodded and dismissed him.
Just then the horn sounded and we went off, dashing across the road into a field in full chase after the hounds, taking the fences and settling down to a good half hour's run over the most beautiful country I have ever seen.
The hounds had struck the trail, which of course, as was finally decided, was nothing but that laid by an anise-seed bag dragged over the ground. It was none the less, in fact perhaps more interesting for that.
The huntsman winded his horn and mirthful shouts of "Gone away!" sounded in imitation of a real hunt. The blast of the horn once heard is never forgotten, thrilling the blood and urging one on.
The M. F. H. seemed to be everywhere at once, restraining those who were too eager and saving the hounds often from being ridden down by those new to the hunt who pressed them.
Elaine was one of the foremost. Her hunter was one carefully trained, and she knew all the tricks of the game.
Somehow, I got separated, at first, from the rest and followed, until finally I caught up, and then kept behind one of the best riders.
Del Mar also got separated, but, as I afterward learned, by intention, for he deliberately rode out of the course at the first opportunity he had and let Elaine and the rest of us pass without seeing him.
Elaine's blood was up, but somehow, in spite of herself, she went astray, for the hounds had distanced the fleetest riders and she, in an attempt at a short cut over the country which she thought she knew so well, went a mile or so out of the way.
She pulled up in a ravine and looked about. Intently she listened. There was no sign of the hunt. She was hot and tired and thirsty and, at a loss just to join the field again, she took this chance to dismount and drink from a clear stream fed by mountain springs.
As she did so, floating over the peaceful woodland air came the faint strains of the huntsman's horn, far, far off. She looked about, straining her eyes and ears to catch the direction of sound. Just then her horse caught the winding of the horn. His ears went erect and without waiting he instantly galloped off, leaving her. Elaine called and ran after him, but it was too late. She stopped and looked dejectedly as he disappeared. Then she made her way up the side of the ravine, slowly.
On she climbed until, to her surprise, she came to the ruins of an old hotel. She remembered, as a child, when it had been famous as a health resort, but it was all changed now—a wreck. She looked at it a moment, then, as she had nothing better to do, approached it.
She advanced toward a window of the dining-room and looked in.
. . . . . . .
Del Mar waited only until the last straggler had passed. Then he dashed off as fast as his horse would carry him straight toward the deserted hotel which served him as headquarters for the supplies he was accumulating. As he rode up, one of his sentries appeared, as if from nowhere, and, seeing who it was, saluted.
"Here, take care of this horse," ordered Del Mar, dismounting and turning the animal over to the man, who led him to the rear of the building as Del Mar entered the front door, after giving a secret signal.
There were his men in goggles and masks at the work, which his knock had interrupted.
"Give me a mask before I enter the room," he ordered of the man who had answered his signal.
The man handed the mask and goggles to him, as well as a coat, which he put on quickly. Then he entered the room and looked at the rapid progress of the work.
"Where's the prisoner?" asked Del Mar a moment later, satisfied at the progress of his men.
"In the attic room," one of his lieutenants indicated.
"I'd like to take a look at him," added Del Mar, just about to turn and leave the room.
As he did so, he happened to glance at one of the windows. There, peering through the broken shutters, was a face—a girl's face—Elaine!
"Just what I wanted guarded against," he cried angrily, pointing at the window. "Now—get her!"
The men had sprung up at his alarm. They could all see her and with one accord dashed for the door. Elaine sprang back and they ran as they saw that she was warned. In genuine fear now she too ran from the window. But it was too late.
For just then the sentry who had taken Del Mar's horse came from behind the building cutting off her retreat. He seized her just as the other men ran out. Elaine stared. She could make nothing of them. Even Del Mar, in his goggles and breathing mask was unrecognizable.
"Take her inside," he ordered disguising his voice. Then to the sentry he added, "Get on guard again and don't let any one through."
Elaine was hustled into the big deserted hallway of the hotel, just as the tramp had been.
"You may go back to work," Del Mar signed to the other men, who went on, leaving one short but athletic looking fellow with Del Mar and Elaine.
"Lock her up, Shorty," ordered Del Mar, "and bring the other prisoner to me down here."
None too gently the man forced Elaine up-stairs ahead of him.
. . . . . . .
In the attic, the tramp, pacing up and down, heard footsteps approach on the stairs and enter the next room.
Quickly he ran to the doorway and peered through the keyhole. There he could see Elaine and the small man enter. He locked the door to the hall, then quickly took a step toward the door into the tramp's room.
There was just time enough for the tramp to see his approach. He ran swiftly and softly over to the further corner and dropped down as if sound asleep. The key turned in the lock and the small man entered, careful to lock the door to Elaine's room. He moved over to where the tramp was feigning sleep.
"Get up," he growled, kicking him.
The tramp sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "Come now, be reasonable," demanded the man. "Follow me."
He started toward the door into the hall. He never reached it. Scarcely was his hand on the knob when the tramp seized him and dragged him to the floor. One hand on the man's throat and his knees on his chest, the tramp tore off the breathing mask and goggles. Already he had the man trussed up and gagged.
Quickly the tramp undressed the man and left him in his underclothes, still struggling to get loose, as he took Shorty's clothes, including the strange head-gear, and unlocked the door into the next room with the key he also took from him.
Elaine was pacing anxiously up and down the little room into which she had been thrown, greatly frightened.
Suddenly the door through which her captor had left opened hurriedly again. A most disreputable looking tramp entered and locked the door again. Elaine started back in fear.
He motioned to her to be quiet. "You'll never get out alive," he whispered, speaking rapidly and thickly, as though to disguise his voice. "Here—take these clothes. Do just as I say. Put them on. Put on the mask and goggles. Cover up your hair. It is your only chance."
He laid the clothes down and went out into the hallway. Outside he listened carefully at the head of the stairs and looked about expecting momentarily to be discovered.
Elaine understood only that suddenly a friend in need had appeared. She changed her clothes quickly, finding fortunately that they fitted her pretty well. By pulling the hat over her hair and the goggles over her eyes and tying on the breathing mask, she made a very presentable man.
Cautiously she pushed open the door into the hallway. There was the tramp. "What shall I do?" she asked.
"Don't talk," he whispered close to her ear. "Go out—and if you meet any one, just salute and walk past."
"Yes—yes, I understand," she nodded back, "and—thank you."
He gave her no time to say more, even if it had been safe, but turned and locked the door of her room.
Trying to keep the old stairway from creaking and betraying her, she went down. She managed to reach the lower hallway without seeing anybody or being discovered. Quietly she went to the door and out. She had not gone far when she met an armed man, the sentry, who had been concealed in the shrubbery.
"Who goes there?" he challenged.
Elaine did not betray herself by speaking, but merely saluted and passed on as fast as she could without exciting further suspicion. Nonplused, the man turned and watched her curiously as she moved away down the path.
"Where's HE going?" the sentry muttered, still staring.
Elaine in her eagerness was not looking as carefully where she was going as she was thinking about getting away in safety. Suddenly an overhanging branch of a tree caught her hat and before she knew it pulled it off her head. There was no concealing her golden hair now.
"Stop!" shouted the sentry.
Elaine did not pause, but dived into the bushes on the side of the path, just as the man fired and ran forward, still shouting for her to halt. She ran as fast as she could, pulling off the goggles and mask and looking back now and then in terror at her pursuer who was rapidly gaining on her.
Before she could catch herself she missed her footing and slipped over the edge of a gorge. Down she went, with a rush. It was unfortunate, dangerous, but, after all, it was the only thing that saved her, at least for the time. Half falling, half sliding, scratching herself and tearing her clothes, she descended.
The sentry checked himself just in time at the top of the gorge and leaned as far over the edge as he dared. He raised his gun again and fired. But Elaine's course was so hidden by the trees and so zigzag that he missed again. A moment he hesitated, then started and climbed down after her as fast as he could.
At the bottom of the hill she picked herself up and dashed again into the woods, the sentry still after her and gaining again.
At the same time, we who were still in the chase had circled about the country until we were very near where we started. Following the dogs over a rail fence, I drew up suddenly, hearing a scream.
There was Elaine, on foot, running as if her life depended on it. I needed no second glance. Behind her was a man with a rifle, almost overtaking her.
As luck would have it, the momentum of my horse carried me right at them. Careful to avoid Elaine, I rode square at the man, striking at him viciously with my riding crop before he knew what had struck him.
The fellow dropped, stunned. I leaped from my horse and ran to her, just as the rest of the hunt came up.
Eagerly questioning us, they gathered about.
Having waited until he was sure that Elaine had got away safely, the old tramp slowly and carefully followed down the stairs of the ruined hotel.
As he went down, he heard a shot from the woods. Could it be one of the sentries? He looked about keenly, hesitating just what to do.
In an instant, down below, he heard the scurry of footsteps from the improvised laboratory and shouts. He turned and stealthily ran up-stairs, just as the door opened.
The tramp had not been the only one who had been alarmed by the shot of the sentry.
Del Mar was talking again to the men when it rang out. "What's that?" he exclaimed. "Another intruder?"
The men stared at him blankly, while Del Mar dashed for the door, followed by them all. In the hall he issued his orders quickly.
"Here, you fellows," he called dividing the men, "get outside and see what is doing. You other men follow me. I want you to see if everything's all right up above."
Meanwhile the tramp had gained the upper hallway and dashed past the room which he occupied. Outside, in the hall, Del Mar and his men rushed up to the door of the room in which Elaine had been thrown. It was locked and they broke in. She was gone!
On into the next room they dashed, bearing down this door also. There was Shorty, trussed up in his underclothes. They hastened to release him.
"Where are they—where's the tramp?" demanded Del Mar angrily.
"I think I heard some one on the roof," replied Shorty weakly. He was right. The tramp had managed to get through a scuttle on the roof. Then he climbed down to the edge and began to let himself hand over hand down the lightning rod.
Reaching the ground safely, he scurried about to the back of the building. There, tied, was the horse which Del Mar had ridden to the hunt. He untied it, mounted and dashed off down the path through the woods, taking the shortest cut in the direction of Fort Dale.
Dusty and flecked with foam, the tramp and his mount, a strange combination, were instantly challenged by the sentry at the Fort.
"I must see Lieutenant Woodward immediately," urged the tramp.
A heated argument followed until finally a corporal of the guards was called and led off the tramp toward the headquarters.
It was only a few minutes before Woodward was convinced of the identity of the tramp with his friend, Professor Arnold. At the head of a squad of cavalry, Woodward and the tramp dashed off.
Already on the qui vive, Elaine heard the sound of hoof-beats long before the rest of us crowded around her. For the moment we all stood ready to repel an attack from any quarter.
But it was not meant for us. It was Woodward at the head of a score or so of cavalrymen. With him rode a tramp on a horse which was strangely familiar to me.
"Oh," cried Elaine, "there's the man who saved me!"
As they passed, the tramp paused a moment and looked at us sharply. Although he carefully avoided Elaine's eyes, I fancied that only when he saw that she was safe was he satisfied to gallop off and rejoin the cavalry.
. . . . . . .
Around the old hotel, in every direction, Del Mar's men were searching for the tramp and Elaine, while in the hotel another search was in progress.
"Have you discovered anything?" asked Del Mar, entering.
"No, sir," they reported.
"Confound it!" swore Del Mar, going up-stairs again.
Here also were men searching. "Find anything?" he asked briefly.
"No luck," returned one.
Del Mar went on up to the top floor and out through the open scuttle to the roof. "That's how he got away, all right," he muttered to himself, then looking up he exclaimed under his breath, as his eye caught something far off, "The deuce—what's that?"
Leaning down to the scuttle, he called, "Jenkins—my field-glasses—quick!"
One of his men handed them to him and he adjusted them, gazing off intently. There he could see what looked like a squad of cavalry galloping along headed by an officer and a rough looking individual.
"Come—we must get ready for an attack!" he shouted diving down the scuttle again.
In the laboratory dining-room, his men, recalled, hastily took his orders. Each of them seized one of the huge black rubber newly completed gas bombs and ran out, making for a grove near-by.
Quickly as Del Mar had acted, it was not done so fast but that the troop of cavalry as they pulled up on the top of a hill and followed the directing finger of the tramp could see men running to the cover of the grove.
"Forward!" shouted Woodward.
As if all were one machine, the men and horses shot ahead, until they came to the grove about the old hotel. There they dismounted and spread out in a semi-circular order, advancing on the grove. As they did so, shots rang out from behind the trees. Del Mar's men, from the shelter were firing at them. But it seemed hopeless for the fugitives.
"Ready!" ordered Del Mar as the cavalrymen advanced, relentless.
Each of his men picked up one of the big black gas bombs and held it high up over his head.
"Come on!" urged Woodward.
His men broke into a charge on the grove.
"Throw them!" ordered Del Mar.
As far as he could hurl it, each of the men sent one of the black globes hurtling through the air. They fell almost simultaneously, a long line of them, each breaking into a thousand bits. Instantly dense, greenish-yellow fumes seemed to pour forth, enveloping everything. The wind which Del Mar had carefully noted when he chose the position in the grove, was blowing from his men toward the only position from which an attack could be made successfully.
Against Woodward's men as they charged, it seemed as if a tremendous, slow-moving wall of vapor were advancing from the trees. It was only a moment before it completely wrapped them in its stifling, choking, suffocating embrace. Some fell, overcome. Others tried to run, clutching frantically at their throats and rubbing their eyes.
"Get back—quick—till it rolls over," choked Woodward.
Those who were able to do so, picked up their stupefied comrades and retreated, as best they could, stumbling blindly back from the fearful death cloud of chlorine.
Meantime, under cover of this weird defence, Del Mar and his men, their own faces covered and unrecognizable in their breathing masks and goggles, dashed to one side, with a shout and disappeared walking and running behind and even through the safety of their impregnable gas barrier.
More slowly we of the hunt had followed Woodward's cavalry until, some distance off, we stood, witnessing and wondering at the attack. To our utter amazement we saw them carrying off their wounded and stupefied men. We hurried forward and gathered about, offering whatever assistance we could to resuscitate them.
As Elaine and I helped, we saw the unkempt figure of the tramp borne in and laid down. He was not completely overcome, having had presence of mind to tie a handkerchief over his nose and mouth.
Elaine hurried toward him with an exclamation of sympathy. Just recovering full consciousness, he heard her.
With the greatest difficulty, he seemed to summon some reserve force not yet used. He struggled to his feet and staggered off, as though he would escape us.
"What a strange old codger," mused Elaine, looking from me at the retreating figure. "He saved my life—yet he won't even let me thank him—or help him!"
"I don't understand it," remarked Elaine one day as, with Aunt Josephine and myself, she was discussing the strange events that had occurred since the disappearance of Kennedy, "but, somehow, it is as if a strange Providence seems to be watching over us."
"Nor do I," I agreed. "It does seem that, although we do not see it, a mysterious power for good is about us. It's uncanny."
"A package for you, Miss Dodge," announced Marie, coming in with a small parcel which had been delivered by a messenger who did not wait for an answer.
Elaine took it, looked at it, turned it over, and then looked at the written address again.
"It's not the handwriting of any one which I recognize," she mused. "Now, I suppose I ought to be suspicious of it Yet, I'm going to open it."
She did so. Inside, the paper wrapping covered a pasteboard box. She opened that. There lay a revolver, which she picked up and turned over. It was a curious looking weapon.
"I never knew so much about firearms as I have learned in the past few weeks," remarked Elaine. "But what do you suppose this is—and who sent it to me—and why?"
She held the gun up. From the barrel stuck out a little rolled-up piece of paper. "See," she cried, reading and handing the paper to me, "there it is again—that mysterious power."
Aunt Josephine and I read the note:
This weapon shoots exactly into the center of the light disc. Keep it by you.—A FRIEND.
"Let me see it," I asked, taking the gun. Sure enough, along the barrel was a peculiar tube. "A searchlight gun," I exclaimed, puzzled, though still my suspicions were not entirely at rest. "Suppose it's sighted wrong," I could not help considering. "It might be a plant to save some one from being shot."
"That's easily settled," returned Elaine. "Let's try it."
"Oh, mercy no,—not here," remonstrated Aunt Josephine.
"Why not—down cellar?" persisted Elaine. "It can't hurt anything there."
"I think it would be a good plan," I agreed, "just to make sure that it is all right."
Accordingly we three went down cellar. There, Elaine found the light switch and turned it. Eagerly I hunted about for a mark. There, in some rubbish that had not yet been carted away, was a small china plate. I set it up on a small shelf across the room and took the gun. But Elaine playfully wrenched it from my hand.
"No," she insisted, "it was sent to me. Let me try it first."
Reluctantly I consented.
"Switch off the light, Walter, please," she directed, standing a few paces from the plate.
I did so. In the darkness Elaine pointed the gun and pulled a little ratchet. Instantly a spot of light showed on the wall. She moved the revolver and the spot of light moved with it. As it rested on a little decorative figure in the center of the plate, she pulled the trigger. The gun exploded with a report, deafening, in the confined cellar.
I switched on the light and we ran forward. There was the plate—smashed into a hundred bits. The bullet had struck exactly in the centre of the little bull's-eye of light.
"Splendid," cried Elaine enthusiastically, as we looked at each other in surprise.
Though none of us guessed it, half an hour before, in the seclusion of his yacht, Woodward's friend, Professor Arnold, had been standing with the long barrelled gun in his hand, adjusting the tube which ran beneath the barrel.
In one hand he held the gun; in the other was a piece of paper. As he brought the paper before the muzzle and pressed a ratchet by gripping the revolver handle, a distinct light appeared on the paper, thrown out from the tube under the barrel.
Having adjusted the tube and sighted it, Arnold wrote a hasty note on another piece of paper and inserted it into the barrel of the gun, with the end sticking out just a bit. Then he wrapped the whole thing up in a box, rang a bell, and handed the package to a servant with explicit instructions as to its delivery to the right person and only to that person.
Down in the submarine harbor, Del Mar was in conference with his board of strategy and advice, laying the plan for the attack on America.
"Ever since we have been at work," he remarked, "Elaine Dodge has been busy hindering and frustrating us. That girl must go!"
Before him, on the table, he placed a square package. "It must stop," he added ominously, tapping the package.
"But how?" asked one of the men. "We've done our best."
"This is a bomb," replied Del Mar, continuing to tap the package. "When our man—let me see, X had better do it,—arrives, have him look in the secret cavern by the landing-place. There I will leave it. I want him to put it in her house to-night."
He handed the bomb to one of his men who took it gingerly. Then with a few more words of admonition, he took up his diving helmet and left the headquarters, followed by the man.
Several minutes later, Del Mar, alone, emerged from the water just outside the submarine harbor and took off his helmet.
He made his way over the rocks, carrying the bomb, until he came to a little fissure in the rocks, like a cavern. There he hid the bomb carefully. Still carrying the helmet, he hurried along until he came to the cave entrance that led to the secret passage to the panel in his bungalow library. Up through the secret passage he went, reaching the panel and opening it by a spring.
In the library Del Mar changed his wet clothes and hid them, then set to work on an accumulation of papers on his desk.
. . . . . . .
That afternoon, Elaine decided to go for a little ride through the country in her runabout.
As she started to leave her room, dressed for the trip, it was as though a premonition of danger came to her. She paused, then turned back and took from the drawer the searchlight gun which had been sent to her. She slipped it into the pocket of her skirt and went out.
Off she drove at a fast clip, thoroughly enjoying the ride until, near a bend in the road, as it swept down toward the shore, she stopped and got out, attracted by some wild flowers. They grew in such profusion that it seemed no time before she had a bunch of them. On she wandered, down to the rocks, watching the restless waters of the Sound. Finally she found herself walking alone along the shore, one arm full of flowers, while with her free hand she amused herself by skimming flat stones over the water.
As she turned to pick up one, her eye caught something in the rocks and she stared at it. There in a crevice, as though it had been hidden, was a strange square package. She reached down and picked it up. What could it be?
While she was examining it, back of her, another of those strange be-helmeted figures came up out of the water. It watched her for an instant, then sank back into the water again.
Elaine, holding the package in her hand, walked up the shore, oblivious to the strange eye that had been fixed on her.
"I must show this to Lieutenant Woodward," she said to herself.
In the car she placed the package, then jumped in herself carefully and started off.
A moment after she had gone, the diver reappeared, looking about cautiously. This time the coast was clear and he came all the way out, taking off his helmet and placed it in the secret hiding-place which Del Mar and his men used. Then, with another glance, now of anger, in the direction of Elaine, he hurried up the shore.
Meanwhile, as fast as her light runabout would carry her, Elaine whizzed over to Fort Dale.
As she entered the grounds, the sentry saluted her, though that part of the formalities of admission was purely perfunctory, for every one at the Fort knew her now.
"Is Lieutenant Woodward in?" she inquired.
"Yes ma'am," returned the sentry. "I will send for him."
A corporal appeared and took a message for her to Woodward. It was only a few minutes before Lieutenant Woodward himself appeared.
"What is the trouble, Miss Dodge?" he asked solicitously, noting the look on her face.
"I don't know what it is," she replied dubiously. "I've found something among the rocks. Perhaps it is a bomb."
Woodward looked at the package, studying it. "Professor Arnold is investigating this affair for us," he remarked. "Perhaps you'd better take the package to him on his yacht. I'm sorry I can't go with you, but just now I'm on duty."
"That's a good idea," she agreed. "Only I'm sorry you can't go along with me."
She started up the car and drove off as Woodward turned back to theFort with a lingering look.
Del Mar was hard at work in the library when, suddenly, he heard a sound at the panel. He reached over and pressed a button on his desk, and the panel opened. Through it came the diver still wearing his dripping suit and carrying the weird helmet under his arm.
"That Dodge girl has crossed us again!" he exclaimed excitedly.
"How?" demanded Del Mar, with an oath.
"I saw her on the rocks just now. She happened to stumble on the bomb which you left there to be placed."
"And then?" demanded Del Mar.
"She took it with her in her car."
"The deuce!" ejaculated the foreign agent, furiously. "You must get the men out and hunt the country thoroughly. She must not escape now at any cost."
The diving man dove back into the panel to escape Del Mar's wrath, while Del Mar hurried out, leaving his valet in the library.
Quickly, Del Mar made his way to a secret hiding-place in the hills back of the bay. There he found his picked band of men armed with rifles.
As briefly as he could he told them of what had happened. "We must get her this time—dead or alive," he ordered. "Now scatter about the country. Keep in touch with each other and when you find her, close in on her at any cost."
The men saluted and left in various directions to scour the country. Del Mar himself picked up a rifle and followed shortly, passing down a secret trail to the road where he had a car with a chauffeur waiting. Still carrying the rifle, he climbed in and the man shot the car along down the road.
. . . . . . .
On the top of a hill one of the men was posted as a sort of lookout. Gazing over the country carefully, his eye was finally arrested by something at which he stared eagerly. Far away, on the road, he could see a car in which was a girl, alone. Waving in the breeze was a red feather in her hat. He looked more sharply. It was Elaine Dodge.
The man turned and waved a signal with a handkerchief to another man far off. Down the valley another of Del Mar's men was waiting and watching. As soon as he saw the signal, he waved back and ran along the road.
As Del Mar whizzed along, he could see one of his men approaching over the road, waving to him. "Stop!" he ordered his driver.
The man hurried forward. "I've got the signal," he panted. "They have seen her car over the hill."
"Good," exclaimed Del Mar, pulling a black silk mask over his eyes."Now, get off quickly. We've got to catch her."
They sped away again in a cloud of dust.
But even while Del Mar was speeding toward her, another of his men had discovered her presence, so vigilant were they.
He had been keeping a sharp watch on the road, when he was suddenly all attention. He saw a car, through the foliage. Quickly, his rifle went to his shoulder. Through the sight he could just cover Elaine's head, for her hat, with a bright red feather in it, showed plainly just over the bushes.
He aimed carefully and fired.
I had been out for a tramp over the hills with no destination in particular. As I swung along the road, I heard the throbbing of a car coming up the hill, the cut-out open. I turned, for cars make walking on country roads somewhat hazardous nowadays.
As I did so, some one in the car waved to me. I looked again. It wasElaine.
"Where are you going?" she called.
"Where are YOU going?" I returned, laughing.
"I've just had a very queer experience—found something down on the rocks," she replied seriously, pointing to the square package on the floor of the car. "I took it to Lieutenant Woodward and he advised me to take it to Professor Arnold on his yacht. I think it is a bomb. I wish you'd go with me."
Before I could answer, up the hill a rifle shot cracked. There was a whirr in the air and a bullet sang past us, cutting the red feather off Elaine's hat.
"Duck!" I cried, jumping into the car, "And drive like the dickens!"
She turned and we fairly ricocheted down that road back again.
Behind us, a man, a stranger whom we did not pause to observe, rushed from the bushes and fired after us again.
Suddenly another rifle shot cracked. It was from another car that had stealthily sneaked up on us—coming fast, recklessly.
"There's her car," pointed one of the occupants to a man who was masked in black.
"Yes," he nodded. "Give her a little more gas!"'
"Crouch down," I muttered, "as low as you can."
We did so, racing for life, the more powerful motor behind us overhauling us every instant.
We were coming to a very narrow part of the road where it turned, on one side a sheer hill, on the other a stream several feet down.
If we had an accident, I thought, it might be ticklish for us, supposing the square package really to be a bomb. What if it should go off? The idea suggested another, instantly. The car behind was only a few feet off.
As we reached the narrow road by the stream, I rose up. As far as I could, back of me, I hurled the infernal machine. It fell. We received a shower of dirt and small stones, but the cover of the car protected us. Where the bomb landed, however, it cut a deep hole in the roadway.
On came Del Mar's car, the driver frantically tugging at the emergency brake. But it was of no use. There was not room to turn aside. The car crashed into the hole, like a gigantic plow.
It took one header over the side of the road and down several feet into the stream, just as the masked man and the driver jumped far ahead into the water.
Safe now in our car which was slackening its terrific speed, I looked back. "They've been thrown!" I cried. "We're all right."
On the edge of the water, just covered by some wreckage, the chauffeur lay motionless. The masked man crawled from under the wreckage and looked at him a moment.
"Dead!" he exclaimed, still mechanically gripping a rifle in his hand.
Angrily he raised it at us and fired.
A moment later, some other men gathered from all directions about him, each armed.
"Don't mind the wreck," he cried, exasperated. "Fire!"
A volley was delivered at us. But the distance was now apparently too great.
We were just congratulating ourselves on our escape, when a stray shot whizzed past, striking a piece directly out of the head of the steering-post, almost under Elaine's hands.
Naturally she lost control, though fortunately we were not going so fast now. Crazily, our car swerved from side to side of the road, as she vainly tried to control both its speed and direction. On the very edge of the ditch, however, it stopped.
We looked back. There we could see a group of men who seemed to spring out of the woods, as if from nowhere, at the sound of the shots. A shout went up at the sight of the bullet taking effect, and they ran forward at us.
One of their number, I could see, masked, who had been in the wrecked car, stumbled forward weakly, until finally he sank down.
A couple of the others ran to him. "Go on," he must have urged vehemently. "One of you is enough to stay with me. I'm going back to the submarine harbor. The rest—go on—report to me there."
As the rest ran toward us, there was nothing for us to do but to abandon the car ourselves and run for it. We left the road and struck into the trackless woods, followed closely now by two of the men who had outdistanced the rest. Through the woods we fled, taking advantage of such shelter as we could find.
"Look, here's a cave," cried Elaine, as we plunged, exhausted and about ready to drop, down into a ravine.
We hurried in and the bushes swung over the cave entrance. Inside we stopped short and gazed about. It was dark and gloomy. We looked back. There was no hope there. They had been overtaking us. On down a passageway, we went.
The two men who were pursuing us plunged down the ravine also. As ill-luck would have it, they saw the cave entrance and dashed in, then halted. Crouching in the shadow we could see their figures silhouetted in the dim light of the entrance of the cavern. One stopped at the entrance while the other advanced. He was a big fellow and powerfully built and the other fellow was equally burly. I made up my mind to fight to the last though I knew it was hopeless. It was dark. I could not even see the man advancing now.
Quickly Elaine reached into her pocket and drew out something.
"Here, Walter, take this," she cried. I seized the object. It was the searchlight gun.
Hastily I aimed it, the spot of light glowing brightly. Indeed, I doubt whether I could have shot very accurately otherwise. As the man approached cautiously down the passageway the bright disc of light danced about until finally it fell full on his breast. I fired. The man fell forward instantly.
Again I fired, this time at the man in the cave entrance. He jumped back, dropping his gun which exploded harmlessly. His hand was wounded. Quickly he drew back and disappeared among the trees.
We waited in tense silence, and then cautiously looked out of the mouth of the cave. No one seemed to be about.
"Come—let's make a dash for it," urged Elaine.
We ran out and hurried on down the ravine, apparently not followed.
Back among the trees, however, the man had picked up a rifle which he had hidden. While he was binding up his hand with a handkerchief, he saw us. Painfully he tried to aim his gun. But it was too heavy for his weakened arm and the pain was too great. He had to lower it. With a muttered imprecation, he followed us at a distance.
Evidently, to us, we had eluded the pursuers, for no one seemed now to be following, at least as far as we could determine. We kept on, however, until we came to the water's edge. There, down the bay, we could see Professor Arnold's yacht.
"Let us see Professor Arnold, anyhow," said Elaine, leading the way along the shore.
We came at last, without being molested, to a little dock. A sailor was standing beside it and moored to it was a swift motor-boat. Out at anchor was the yacht.
"You are Professor Arnold's man?" asked Elaine.
"Yes'm," he replied, remembering her.
"Is the Professor out on his boat?" we asked.
He nodded. "Did you want to see him?"
"Very much," answered Elaine.
"I'll take you out," he offered.
We jumped into the motor-boat, he started the engine and we planed out over the water.
Though we did not see him, the man whom I had wounded was still watching us from the shore, noting every move. He had followed us at a distance across the woods and fields and down along the shore to the dock, had seen us talking to Arnold's man, and get into the boat.
From the shore he continued to watch us skim across the bay and pull up alongside the yacht. As we climbed the ladder, he turned and hurried back the way he had come.
. . . . . . .
Elaine and I climbed aboard the yacht where we could see the Professor sitting in a wicker deck chair.
"Why, how do you do?" he welcomed us, adjusting his glasses so that his eyes seemed, if anything, more opaque than before.
I could not help thinking that, although he was glad to see us, there was a certain air of restraint about him.
Quickly Elaine related the story of finding the bomb in the rocks and the peculiar events and our escape which followed. Once, at the mention of the searchlight gun, Professor Arnold raised his hand and coughed back of it. I felt sure that it was to hide an involuntary expression of satisfaction and that it must be he who had sent the gun to Elaine.
He was listening attentively to her, while I stood by the rail, now and then looking out over the water. Far away I noted something moving over the surface, like a rod, followed by a thin wake of foam.
"Look!" I exclaimed, "What's that?"
Elaine turned to me, as Arnold seized his glasses.
"Why, it seems to be moving directly at us," exclaimed Elaine.
"By George, it's the periscope of a submarine," cried Arnold a moment later, lowering his glasses.
He did not hesitate an instant.
"Get the yacht under way," he ordered the captain, who immediately shouted his orders to the rest.
Quickly the engine started and we plowed ahead, that ominous looking periscope following.
In the submarine harbor to which he had been taken, Del Mar found that he had been pretty badly shaken up by the accident to his car. His clothes were torn and his face and body scratched. No bones were broken, however, though the shock had been great. Several of his men were endeavoring to fix him up in the little submarine office, but he was angry, very angry.
At such a juncture, a man in a dripping diving-suit entered and pulled off his helmet, after what had evidently been a hasty trip from the land through the entrance and up again into the harbor. As he approached, Del Mar saw that the man's hand was bound up.
"What's the matter?" demanded Del Mar. "How did you get that?"
"That fellow Jameson and the girl did it," he replied, telling what had happened in the cave. "Some one must have given them one of those new searchlight guns."
Del Mar, already ugly, was beside himself with rage now.
"Where are they?" he asked.
"I saw them go out to the yacht of that Professor Arnold."
"He's the fellow that gave her the gun," almost hissed Del Mar. "On the yacht, are they?"
An evil smile seemed to spread over his face. "Then we'll get them all, this time. Man the submarine—the Z99."
All left the office on the run, hurrying around the ledge and down into the open hatch of the submarine. Del Mar came along a moment later, giving orders sharply and quickly.
The hatch was closed and the vessel sealed. On all sides were electrical devices and machines to operate the craft and the torpedoes—an intricate system of things which it seemed as if no human mind could possibly understand.
Del Mar threw on a switch. The submarine hummed and trembled. Slowly she sank in the harbor until she was at the level of the underwater entrance through the rocks. Carefully she was guided out through this entrance into the waters of the larger, real harbor.
Del Mar took his place at the periscope, the eye of the submarine.Anxiously he turned it about and bent over the image which it projected.
"There it is," he muttered, picking out Arnold's yacht and changing the course of the submarine so that it was headed directly at it, the planes turned so that they kept the boat just under the surface with only the periscope showing above.
Forward, about the torpedo discharge tubes men were busy, testing the doors, and getting ready the big automobile torpedoes.
"They must have seen us," muttered Del Mar. "They've started the yacht.But we can beat them, easily. Are you ready?"
"Yes," called back the men forward, pushing a torpedo into the lock-like compartment from which it was launched.
"Let it go, then," bellowed Del Mar.
The torpedo shot out into the water, travelling under her own power, straight at the yacht.
. . . . . . .
Elaine and I looked back. The periscope was much nearer than before."Can we outdistance the submarine?" I asked of Arnold.
Arnold shook his head, his face grave. On came the thin line of foam. "I'm afraid we'll have to leave the yacht," he said warningly. "My little motor-boat is much faster."
Arnold shouted his orders as he led us down the ladder to the motor-boat into which we jumped, followed by as many of the crew as could get in, while the others leaped into the water from the rail of the yacht and struck out for the shore which was not very distant.
"What's that?" cried Elaine, horrified, pointing back.
The water seemed to be all churned up. A long cigar-shaped affair was slipping along near enough to the surface so that we could just make it out—murderous, deadly, aimed right at the heart of the yacht.
"A torpedo!" exclaimed Arnold. "Cast off!"
We moved off from the yacht as swiftly as the speedy little open motor-boat would carry us, not a minute too soon.
The torpedo struck the yacht almost exactly amidships. A huge column of water spurted up into the air as though a gigantic whale were blowing off. The yacht itself seemed lifted from the water and literally broken in half like a brittle rod of glass and dropped back into the water.
Below in the submarine, Del Mar was still at the periscope directing things.
"A hit!" he cried exultingly. "We got the whole bunch this time!"
He turned to the men to congratulate them, a smile on his evil face. But as he looked again, he caught sight of our little motor-boat skimming safely away on the other side of the wreck.
"The deuce!" he muttered. "Try another. Here's the direction."
Furiously he swore as the men guided the submarine and loaded another torpedo into a tube. As the tube came into position, they let the torpedo go. An instant later it was hissing its way at us.
"See, there's another!" I cried, catching sight of it.
All looked. Sure enough, through the water could be seen another of those murderous messengers dashing at us.
Arnold ran forward and seized the wheel himself, swinging the boat around hard to starboard and the land. We turned just in time. The torpedo, brainless but deadly, dashed past us harmlessly.
As fast as we could now we made for the shore. No one could catch us with such a start, not even the swiftest torpedo. We had been rescued by Arnold's quick wit from a most desperate situation.
Somewhere below the water, I could imagine a man consumed with fury over our escape, as the periscope disappeared and the submarine made off.
We were safe. But, looking out over the water, we could not help shuddering at the perils beneath its apparently peaceful surface.