There was no thought of dinner for John Rhinds that evening.
After the newspaper men had gone the artful schemer spent a long time in drafting two or three telegrams that he felt it necessary to send to members of his state's Congressional delegation at Washington.
In the telegrams that were finally sent, the president of the Rhinds Submarine Company referred to himself as apparently the victim of a very clever but diabolical plot to ruin his company. He asked the members of Congress for his state to see to it that he was given a full opportunity for justice.
"Justice? Ugh!" muttered the old man, as he scanned one of his telegrams. "Well—er—not if it means punishment!"
Hardly had he sent away these telegrams, and even as he was giving thought to sending down an order to have dinner served in his rooms, Rhinds received a telegram from the editor of a New York daily, asking for his version of the torpedo mystery.
From the wording of the telegram, it was plain that the story had gotten as far as New York, and that the editor regarded it as the big, sensational news story of the hour.
Groaning, Rhinds bent over to begin work on this new telegram that was demanded of him. It proved to be a hard message to write. Even while he worked over the difficult problem, a second telegram arrived, this from the editor of a Philadelphia morning paper. Then came two from Boston.
"Good heavens! I can't keep up this pace," groaned John Rhinds. "These editors won't even give me time for sleep."
Sudden blackness came over his eyes as he sat back, trying to think it all out.
"I can't answer any of these telegrams," he muttered, tearing up the offending messages. "Oh, why did Radwin have to take wings at the very time when I need him most! Fred Radwin, with his cool nerve, his steely eyes and his glib, lying tongue, would have been ready with answers for all these questions. But I can't do it. I'll need a strait-jacket, if these telegrams continue to arrive!"
Yet several more telegrams did come in, from newspapers in variousEastern states. Rhinds read them, groaned and tore up the messages.
Then he smoked strong cigars, one after another, but that only made his nerves worse. When he went to bed, late that night, he slept some, yet it was mainly to dream hideous dreams.
In the early morning Rhinds sent for morning newspapers. These contained what he had said to local reporters, but his version, with the newspapers' comments added, only made matters worse. "That infernal 'Gazette,'" in especial, printed, in bold type, the account of his refusal to let a committee of newspapermen examine his boat for a secret hiding place large enough to hold an extra torpedo.
That forenoon shore boats did a thriving business in carrying people out on trips around the Pollard and Rhinds submarines. Trains brought in folks from other towns, all anxious for a glimpse of the submarine craft.
"This will drive me wild, yet," groaned Mr. Rhinds. "It's an outrageous shame."
Still, there was little realization, on his part, that he deserved all this, and more.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Jack, my boy," muttered Jacob Farnum, looking up from a batch of morning newspapers in the cabin of the "Hastings," "You've been the means of stirring up a bigger hurricane than ever raged at sea."
"Are you sorry?" asked the young submarine captain, coolly.
"Well, considering my private opinion of Mr. John C. Rhinds, and my belief as to what he did—or tried to do—to us, I can't say I'm deeply grieved," returned the shipbuilder.
Then time shipbuilder looked around him, at all three of the submarine boys, as he went on:
"Lads, we've been cramped up on this boat long enough, so I'm going to take you ashore this evening. But remember—not a word to reporters, or to anyone else. If any one of you opens his mouth on this subject, I shall consider that young man no longer a friend of mine."
All this while Chief Ward, of the Colfax police department, was busily engaged in seeking tidings of the missing Fred Radwin. But Radwin, after entering that adjoining room, appeared to have been swallowed up.
Jack had heard, from the chief of police, of the disappearance of Radwin. This was one feature of the story that the newspapers had as yet failed to discover. However, Ward believed that Radwin was now hundreds of miles away, and still traveling. So, when the Pollard submarine party came ashore that evening, none of them gave much thought to Radwin.
Farnum led his young friends, as heretofore, to the Somerset House.
"We might possibly meet Rhinds in the lobby, or in the dining room," said the shipbuilder, "but I don't deem it likely. Rhinds is undoubtedly keeping hid within his own walls upstairs."
This guess proved to be a good one. Farnum and his friends dined at the Somerset without being offended by a sight of the face of their rival in business.
A special waiter was stationed to head off reporters or other curious people who might attempt to interview the submarine diners. So the meal proceeded in peace, though it was rather late when the diners finished.
"Whew! Nearly nine o'clock," muttered Farnum, glancing up at a big clock on a near-by wall. "And I haven't been out to the hospital, to-day, to see how Dave is coming along."
"Would it do to telephone, and ask the hospital people to let Mr.Pollard know you had inquired?" suggested Hal.
"Don't just like that idea," replied Mr. Farnum, shaking his head. "It doesn't sound just like using Dave Pollard right. I'll tell you what, however. I've been the only one to go out to the hospital, so far. Dave always asks after the rest of you. Jack, suppose you take a hack and make the trip out. If they won't let you see Dave at this hour, then inquire how he is getting along, and leave your card to be sent in to him. But, if you can see Dave Pollard, he'll be delighted to have a look at your face. There's a cab standing out in front of the hotel, and it won't take you but a few minutes to get out to the hospital."
"Where'll I find you?" asked Jack, rising at once.
"We'll wait in the lobby of the hotel until you get back. Use the cab both ways."
There was, as Mr. Farnum had said, a cab outside the hotel. That cab, in fact, had been hanging about since just before dark.
Most of the time it stood drawn up at the curb on the opposite side of the street.
Three or four times, during the early evening, different persons had tried to engage the use of this cab.
Yet, to each prospective customer, the driver had shaken his head, uttering the one word:
"Engaged."
So the cab still waited, the driver occasionally moving to a somewhat new position, though always keeping well in sight of the hotel entrance.
As Captain Jack Benson stepped out through the broad doorway, however, on his errand of friendship, the driver, throwing away a half-smoked cigar, suddenly whipped up his horse, driving close to the entrance.
"Cab, sir" hailed the driver. "To any part of the city."
"You know where the hospital is?" inquired Jack Benson.
"Oh, yes."
"How long will it take to drive me there?"
"Ten or twelve minutes."
"All right. And I shall want you to wait there, a little while, and then bring me back. How much will that be?"
"Dollar and a half, sir."
"Go ahead," directed Jack, springing inside and pulling the door shut.
The only time Benson had been to the hospital before was on the morning of the accident.
At that time he had not noticed the road very closely. Now, at night, all looked so different to him that he had no idea whether or not he was being driven in the right direction. He left all that to the driver, as most people do when employing cabs.
"I'd like just a little peep-in at Rhinds tonight," thought Jack, as he settled back against the comfortable upholstery. "I reckon he knows, by this time, something of the way of the transgressor."
If the young submarine captain noticed anything at all of the way the driver was taking him, he saw only that the vehicle was rolling through a quiet, rather shabby, ill-lighted portion of the city.
Thus the cab went, down street after street, the horses moving only at the slowest trot.
"What this cab needs is one of our gasoline engines," thought Jack, lazily. Then, suddenly:
"No, sir! By gracious, no! That would make an automobile out of this old tub on wheels, and, until Mr. Pollard gets whole again, anyway, we've had enough of automobiles. One of our crowd in hospital, at a time, is plenty!"
Then there came a moment in which the cab stopped so suddenly that the young skipper was all but thrown from his seat.
"Gracious!" uttered the submarine boy. "Who's torpedoing us?"
But, at that instant, Jack Benson received a more genuine shock.
For the left-hand door of the vehicle was wrenched suddenly open. In the doorway appeared the white, ugly, desperate face of Fred Radwin!
Without a word, Radwin threw himself forward, making a leap into the carriage.
"You—get—out!"
Quick as thought Jack Benson raised his left foot, planting it, as vigorously as his sitting position allowed, against the ribs of Fred Radwin.
That worthy, one foot on the sill, and bent in the act of entering fell back, going in a heap to the sidewalk.
Benson fairly hurled himself through the open door in his need of reaching the sidewalk in time.
He stood, now waiting for a second or so.
Then Fred Radwin jumped up, prepared to grapple with this young foeman.
But Jack was ready for that. He had ready a handy sailor jab—a short-arm blow with the fist that sent Radwin once more to the sidewalk.
Then, as scientific boxing rules were not called for in an encounter of this kind, Jack followed up his advantages with two severe kicks.
Down from the seat leaped the driver, heavy whip in hand.
"Oh, you're in this, are you?" panted Jack, seeing that the driver was headed straight for him.
Down low ducked the submarine boy; then came up straight at close quarters. Benson's sudden grapple deprived the driver of a chance to use the butt of his whip in the manner the fellow had intended.
Yet the driver was a powerful fellow, his strength making him about a match for the greater agility of the bronzed young skipper.
Jack managed to land a blow or two against his big assailant, though without doing much harm.
Yet the submarine boy was undismayed and confident, until, out of the corner of one eye, he saw Radwin rising and advancing cautiously to close in.
Young Benson's opportunity came at just that instant. Smack! He landed his right fist in the driver's face, almost dazing him. With the left fist Jack struck himself free.
But Radwin was just upon him as the boy turned.
"No, you don't!" mocked Captain Jack, ducking down, kangaroo-fashion."Day-day!"
That low crouch and the following spring had carried the submarine boy just under Fred Radwin's outstretched right arm.
And now, Jack Benson, being past both of his assailants, took refuge in discreet flight, in fact, he ran down the street with about every pound of human steam turned on.
"Come on!" snarled Radwin, setting the sprinting pace. "We've got to catch that rascally boy, and mighty quick, too!"
This block or two of the street appeared to be deserted. There was no telling, however, how soon the submarine boy might run into two or three real men who would take his side in any scrimmage that was due.
Though Radwin had the first start after Jack, and was running well, the driver, a long-legged fellow with splendid "wind" soon passed his leader.
Jack realized that he was in danger of being caught, and tried to put on a greater burst of speed. Yet the driver came closer and closer.
Whizz-zz!
The driver had aimed his heavy whip, lance-fashion, and butt-end first, and launched it after the fugitive.
Had not Jack turned the instant before, to glance backward, the whip would have struck him in the back of the head. But Benson saw it coming, and threw himself forward, his head went down.
The whip, therefore, flew just over his head, striking the sidewalk ahead of him.
At that moment Jack Benson tripped. He did not mean to do it. He simply fell and landed on his knees, his head low.
On came the sprinting driver. It was too late to stop or turn. OverJack Benson plunged the fellow, then landed in a heap on the sidewalk.
Jack was up like a flash. He heard a yell from the driver, but Benson's gaze was upon the whip.
At a bound the submarine boy possessed himself of this weapon. He got it, just in time, too, to wheel and face Fred Radwin, threatening that fellow with the heavy butt-end of the driver's recent weapon.
"Get up behind the boy, you fool!" hissed Radwin.
"Sure, I can't," moaned the fellow, rubbing himself, real anguish sounding in his voice. "My neck's broke!"
"Come on yourself, Radwin!" mocked Jack, backing against the wall of a house so that he could face either assailant at need.
"Drop that whip, and I will!" hissed Fred Radwin, stealthily manoeuvering about the boy, yet held back by a wholesome awe of that butt-end of the whip.
"No; I like this whip too well," chuckled young Benson. "You can't have it unless you take it from me. Want to try?"
"Come on, and get up, you dolt!" growled Radwin to the driver. "Do you think we have all night to settle with this boy?"
"I can't get up, I tell you. I'm no good," moaned the driver. "I don't know what I did to myself when I went down so hard."
"Hurry up!" insisted Radwin. "A crowd may come along at any moment."
"Let 'em," moaned the driver. "I can't stop it. I'll apologize."
At that very moment there came the sound of a shout further down the street. Other voices answered.
"There, you dolt!" cried Radwin, angrily. "Now, you've wasted our last chance. Here comes a mob!"
Backing off, Radwin grabbed up his useless comrade, forcing the driver to his feet.
Seeing his enemy so occupied, Jack Benson edged off, holding the whip so that he could use it.
From down the street came the sound of flying feet. Then, just as suddenly the speed lessened.
"I'll wait until I get help, and I'll grab this pair," muttered Captain Jack. "The police chief will be delighted at having a good, close look at Fred Radwin!"
At that moment loud yells and coarse cries broke from the eight or ten young men down the street. Then fist-blows sounded.
"Mine's a Chinaman's luck," grunted Jack Benson, disgustedly. "Only a gang of drunken hoodlums down there. They'd stand in with anything that is against the police. No use depending on such human cattle."
Jack, in fact, grasped the significance of the new riot a little before Fred Radwin did. The submarine boy, therefore, wheeled and ran swiftly toward the fighting hoodlums, though wholly intent on getting past them.
Radwin, believing that the young skipper was racing for help, dragged his driver-companion roughly, swiftly along, finally pushing him inside the hack. Then Radwin leaped to the box, gathered up the reins, and was away like a flash.
The young submarine skipper, from what he knew of hoodlum street crowds, hurried by on the other side. Two blocks further along Benson encountered a tardy policeman. Knowing that it was now too late to hope to catch Fred Radwin, Jack contented himself with inquiring the way back to the Somerset House, where he arrived, after a long walk, still carrying the whip as his trophy of the late encounter.
"You'll have to telephone the hospital, after all, I'm afraid," muttered the young skipper, when he met Mr. Farnum and the others in the lobby.
"What happened?" demanded Farnum, eyeing the whip curiously.
"As soon as I can get through with telephoning the chief of police, I'll come back and tell you."
Chief Ward responded in person. He examined the whip, then declared:
"I know the fellow this whip belongs to—Claridy, 'the fox,' as his admiring friends call him. He's a bad character. See; here is a fox's head engraved on the whip-stock. I'll do my best to find Claridy, and, in that way, I may find the fellow, Radwin. But you were wise, Benson, in not trying to enlist help from that hoodlum gang. Our hoodlums are as bad and lawless as are to be found anywhere in the United States."
In the morning the Somerset House was favored by two rather distinguished guests.
One was Rear Admiral Townsley, the other Congressman Simms. The two had come down together from Washington on the night train.
While the admiral communicated at once with Captain Magowan, Congressman Simms sent his card up to John C. Rhinds. The latter, all a-quiver, now, and showing a haggard face in which smiles fought for a chance, received his visitor.
"Well, Rhinds," was the Congressman's greeting, "the country is all stirred up over this submarine incident out at sea. So is the Navy Department, which is bound to respond to public opinion in such a case."
"I'm glad you've come," replied Mr. Rhinds, eagerly. "I look to you to save me from a most unpleasant, most unmerited charge."
"No charge has been made against you—yet," replied the Congressman.
"I should have said a suspicion," replied Rhinds, tremulously.
"That suspicion seems to be pretty general," answered the member ofCongress. "Have you anything to smoke here?"
Rhinds, with an almost childish eagerness, brought forth a box of cigars, adding:
"I'll ring and order breakfast served for you here, while we talk."
"Thank you, no," responded the Congressman. "I've got to move fast to-day, for I can't spend much time here. I suppose you don't know, yet, that Admiral Townsley is here—sent by the Secretary of the Navy to investigate and report on this matter."
"You'll see him—you'll make him understand, won't you?" demandedRhinds, eagerly.
"You can't make Townsley understand anything but facts," replied Mr. Simms, dryly. "I know the man. He's a hard-headed truth-seeker. You see, Rhinds, when I received your telegram, I hurried over to the Navy Department to say what I could for you. The Secretary told me that of course he didn't want you injured by any unjust suspicions."
"Of course not," quivered Rhinds.
"At the same time the Secretary made it plain to me that public sentiment demands that the whole case be brought past the suspicion stage. He advised me to come down here with Townsley, and see, for myself, just what I ought to believe."
"You'll act as my friend, won't you?" begged Rhinds, tremulously. "You'll show Townsley the absurdity of this whole business. Simms, I look to your friendship, for you are my friend, aren't you?"
"Possibly," nodded the other, dryly. "But I'm also a Congressman, responsible to my district, my state and the whole country. Now, Rhinds, the whole thing is just here. I'm going to look into this matter, and I'm going to sift it all I can. If I find you're innocent beyond a question—then—well, you know I'm a pretty good fighter."
"Yes, yes; you'll fight my enemies to a standstill," cried Rhinds, piteously.
"But, if I find the facts against you, then my hands are tied."
"If—if it's a question of money—" stammered the submarine man.
"Money?" demanded the Congressman, crisply. "What for?"
"Why—er—er—for expenses."
"I can pay my own expenses, Rhinds, in a matter that affects the good name of my district. Now, give me your side of this affair."
For an hour the two men remained talking. Rhinds fought for himself as hard as he could, for he was beginning to suspect that a mere matter of politics would not move the Congressman much in this case.
"Now, I'll leave you for a while, Rhinds, and I'll move fast," promised the Congressman, rising. "But I advise you to stay right here. I may want to see you at any moment."
Mr. Simms must have moved rapidly, for, two hours later that morning, after having seen many people, including the admiral, the Congressman sent a message upstairs urging Rhinds to come down at once.
As he stepped out from the elevator, a strange pallor on his face, John Rhinds beheld the Congressman standing with four men one of whom the old man knew for Ensign Pike, the naval officer who had been stationed aboard the 'Thor.' Another was Lieutenant Danvers.
Congressman Simms quickly presented Rhinds to the other two, one of whom was Rear Admiral Townsley, and the other Lieutenant Jasper, the Admiral's aide.
"Now, Mr. Rhinds," pursued the Congressman, "the admiral has decided that the first thing to do is to go aboard the 'Thor,' and see whether any hiding place exists in which you might have stored a fifth torpedo."
"But how could I get such a fifth torpedo?" faltered the old man."The Navy issues them."
"They may be bought in the market, too, by one who knows how," replied Rear Admiral Townsley, coolly. "You consent to our going aboard your boat, of course, Mr. Rhinds?"
Had there been any reasonable way of preventing it, Rhinds would not have agreed, but he saw that he must comply with the request.
Admiral Townsley raised a hand in signal. Out of the background cameJacob Farnum and his three submarine boys.
"These people can't come aboard my boat!" protested Rhinds.
"They must, if we do," retorted the admiral, crisply. "These are the human beings who were placed in deadly peril by the torpedo that has yet to be accounted for."
Rhinds no longer objected. All his force, all his will appeared to have departed. He moved along, now, like a puppet.
Down at the water-front a naval launch was in waiting. In this the entire party was taken out to the "Thor." Captain Driggs received the callers on the platform deck, and Admiral Townsley stated the object of the visit.
"Why, Admiral," replied Captain Driggs, honestly, "I have no knowledge that there was an extra torpedo aboard. Yet, of course, there's a place where such a thing might have been hidden."
"Take us to it," requested the Admiral.
Captain Driggs led the visitors below. There, in the cabin floor, he pointed to a well-concealed trapdoor. It opened upon a very considerable space between cabin floor and keel.
"This space certainlywouldaccommodate a torpedo," declared Admiral Townsley. "Mr. Rhinds, if we could prove that you had a torpedo in this space the other day, there would be an almost complete case, wouldn't there?"
"But I didn't have," cried Rhinds, with cunning insistence.
"Mr. Driggs," pursued the admiral, "we shall want you as a witness at the investigation on board the 'Oakland.' My aide will hand you a subpoena. This, I believe, gentlemen, is all we have to do here."
Looking years older, yet holding up his head in a certain kind of bravado, John Rhinds returned to shore with the party.
No sooner had Rhinds entered the hotel than a bell-boy moved over, drawing him aside and saying something in a low tone.
"I'll wager that talk would interest us, if we could hear it," remarkedJack Benson, sarcastically, to his friends.
Rhinds, however, turned and hurried off. In five minutes he was back in the lobby. Eagerly he glanced about for the Farnum party, and located it. Then he moved over to where Farnum and his submarine boys sat.
"Farnum," breathed the old man, anxiously, "I've a favor to ask of you."
"That's strange," replied the shipbuilder, coolly.
"I won't term it a favor, then," went on the other, restlessly. "I will put it another way. As a simple act of justice will you meet two people whom I want you to hear?"
"I've heard a good deal, lately," answered Farnum, reluctantly.
"I ask this as a matter of justice. Won't you and young Benson step down the corridor with me?"
"How long will this interview take?" demanded Farnum.
"Only a very short time."
"Well, lead on, then."
Farnum and Captain Jack stepped down a corridor in the wake of their enemy.
Rhinds led them into the ladies' parlor. Farnum and Jack caught sight of two anxious faced women—one, a refined woman of middle age, the other a beautiful girl of sixteen.
"Mr. Farnum, and Mr. Benson, my dear," announced John Rhinds, in oily tones. "Gentlemen, my wife, and my daughter, Helen. Both have something to say to you, gentlemen. Be seated, won't you?"
With that Rhinds slipped away. Like many another cur, in the hour when he finds himself driven to the wall, John Rhinds had sent for his wife and daughter. He proposed to escape from the consequences of his rascally acts by hiding behind the skirts of pure and good women who had the strange fortune to have their lives linked with his.
"What is all this that I have heard, sir?" asked Mrs. Rhinds, tears filling her eyes fast, as she turned to regard the Dunhaven shipbuilder.
It was the hardest hour Jacob Farnum had ever spent, and the same was true for Jack Benson.
This wife and daughter had the most absolute faith in the goodness of John Rhinds. They pleaded gently, eloquently, for these two enemies to have faith in their husband and father.
"You surely don't believe that Mr. Rhinds was at the bottom of any such scoundrelly plot as the papers are talking about?" asked Mrs. Rhinds, tearfully, at last.
"Madame," replied Farnum, in the gentlest tone he knew how to use, "I'll admit I don't like to believe it."
"And you'll come out in a public interview, saying you're convinced that the whole story is a monstrous lie, won't you?" pleaded the wife.
Jacob Farnum choked.
"I—I can't promise that, Mrs. Rhinds. You'll never believe how hard it is for me to refuse you."
"Then you do believe my husband guilty?" demanded Mrs. Rhinds, in a voice full of agony.
"Oh, I wish I could say what you want me to, Mrs. Rhinds, but—well, allI can do is to remain silent."
"Can't I say something—something?" asked Helen Rhinds, appealingly.Her moist eyes turned first on Mr. Farnum, then on Captain Jack.
"Ladies," confessed the Dunhaven shipbuilder, "you've already said enough, as I looked at your faces, to make me almost feel that I am one of the worst men alive."
"Oh, no, no, no!" protested the girl. "You are going to prove yourself the most generous."
Then, turning, the girl caught at one of Benson's hands appealingly.
"You urge him!" she begged.
"When the chief has spoken I must be silent," Jack answered, clearly, though in a low voice.
"What can you say to us, Mr. Farnum? What will you say?" cried Mrs.Rhinds, desperately.
"Madame," replied the Dunhaven shipbuilder, "all I can say is this: I will not, of myself make any effort to bring your husband before a court. I will make no effort to have the investigation carried any further. That is all I can say. Jack, if you have anything to say to these ladies that will soften my words, then, in the name of mercy, say it."
"Ladies," spoke Captain Jack Benson, looking mother and daughter full in the eye, in turn, "you have heard the extent of Mr. Farnum's promise. He is a man who lives by the rules of justice. You are the only two in the world who could have wrung from him such a promise as you have secured."
With that Farnum and his young captain succeeded in taking their leave—making their escape, as they felt, from a most trying situation.
Within two hours John C. Rhinds had his head up once more.
He felt as though the battle had been already won. There was nothing to fear from Farnum pushing the situation that had been created against the owner of the "Thor," for Farnum had promised. It was strange that John Rhinds, who had no regard for the moral value of his own given word, felt certain that Jacob Farnum would not break a promise.
Rhinds even telephoned for the reporters, and, when they came, gave out an interview in which he stated that Mr. Farnum was satisfied that no blame over the torpedo incident could be attached to the owner of the "Thor." Farnum, when questioned by the same reporters, declared that he had nothing to say.
That night Rhinds was almost cheerful. He dined in the public dining room of the hotel, with his wife and daughter, and both appeared to be wholly proud of the man.
One thing, however, worried Rhinds a good deal. Congressman Simms did not come near him again. Later in the evening Rhinds sought the Congressman, though wholly in vain.
Rhinds breakfasted with his family, the next morning, in their rooms. So he was still behind his private doors when a summons reached him to go to the wharf and take the launch to the "Oakland."
"What can it mean, John?" demanded his wife.
"If they want you as a witness before the investigation, you'll be able to clear yourself quickly." predicted Helen.
"I'll soon find out why I'm wanted," declared Rhinds, jauntily.
In fact, he was almost cheerful as he boarded the launch at the wharf.Rhinds was at least self-possessed when he was shown into a cabin whereCaptain Magowan was seated at a desk.
"Oh, good morning, Mr. Rhinds," was the greeting of the president of the naval board, as he rose. "My business will take but a very few moments. I have received definite orders from the Navy Department by wire this morning. Here is a copy of the telegram."
Rhinds took the message, and read:
"Inform John C. Rhinds that the Department will give no further consideration, this year, to the purchase of any boats from the Rhinds Submarine Company."
"What does this mean!" demanded Rhinds, paling, then flushing with anger.
"Just what it says," replied Captain Magowan, coolly.
"There has been some underhanded work here!" began the old man, wrathfully.
"None in the Navy Department, at all events," replied Magowan, coolly."I will not detain you longer, Mr. Rhinds. Good morning."
Captain Magowan, bowing, opened the door. A marine sentry stood on post just outside. There was no use in making a row. John C. Rhinds stepped out like one in a daze, and remained so until he reached the wharf and stepped ashore.
To the railway station went Rhinds. He was ruined. The order from Washington meant that all his capital had been expended on boats that could not be sold. There might be a chance with foreign governments, but creditors would step in and seize the Rhinds shipyards before a good trade could be made abroad.
At the station Rhinds counted the money he had about him. At a bank in another city was a thousand dollars or so more. Rhinds took the train and was borne away. His wife and daughter. The former had a small private fortune of her own; wife and daughter would not starve. So the coward ran away.
That same forenoon Farnum and his submarine boys were summoned to police headquarters. There they were confronted with a rather pretty though almost poorly dressed girl.
"Is this the young woman whom you rescued at a street corner, and whom you were escorting when attacked by a gang of rowdies?" asked Chief Ward.
"I don't know," smiled Eph. "The young woman I was walking with had on a veil."
"Oh, that's all right," laughed the police chief. "This young woman is Katharine Pitney. She has told me the whole story, and I am satisfied that she has told me everything honestly. Miss Pitney is not a prisoner. She has made a little mistake in becoming engaged to the wrong sort of fellow—the 'Tom' from whom you tried to defend her. Now, it seems that 'Tom'—which isn't his name, had persuaded her to help him in playing a joke, as he explained it to her. So Miss Pitney was foolish enough to agree. She is wholly sorry, now she knows that it was a crime, not a joke in which she helped. And 'Tom' has received his walking papers so far as Miss Pitney is concerned."
"But I beg you'll forgive me, Mr. Somers," spoke up the girl, anxiously."I honestly believed it was a joke that I was helping in. As soon asMr. Ward found me, I told him the whole truth about the matter."
"You certainly did, Miss Pitney," confirmed the chief.
"Why, I haven't anything to forgive," laughed Eph. "It was a joke, the way it turned out."
Chief Ward escorted Miss Pitney from the room, then returned to explain:
"That's a wholly good girl, but her fancy was too easily won by the fellow, 'Tom.' She knows better, now, and will have to know a whole lot more about the next man she allows to capture her affections. Now, I have another pair to show you. They're in cells. Come downstairs, please."
Through a corridor underneath the chief led his visitors, halting, at last, before a barred door of iron.
"Look through, and see who it is," smiled the police chief.
"Why, that's Walter C. Hodges, who sent us off on a pleasure trip in that doctored automobile!" exclaimed Jack.
"Yes; you're right," sighed the prisoner. "I've been cornered, andI've admitted it."
"But that fellow's daughter?" asked Jack, as the chief led them away.
"Hodges hasn't any daughter," replied Chief Ward. "We found the young woman, but we let her go. She is an idle, vain young woman. Hodges told her the same old story—a joke he was playing, and persuaded the young woman to go along and pretend to be his daughter. In payment he bought her the fine clothes she was wearing when you saw her. And now, here's some one you may like to see here!"
For a moment or two not a word was uttered as the submarine people found themselves gazing between bars at—Fred Radwin.
Radwin did not look depressed, but, on the contrary, jaunty and defiant.
"He's the one I'm best pleased of all to have," chuckled Chief Ward. "The four ruffians who attacked you boys, and held two of you in that deserted house before Benson led our party to the place, have confessed that they were acting for Radwin. And Hodges has confessed, too, that Radwin employed him, and that, between them, they put the doctored axle in the auto."
While Chief Ward was speaking Fred Radwin turned pale.
"You didn't know all this until just this moment, did you, Radwin?" smiled the chief.
"Oh, you needn't think you can down me too easily," snarled the prisoner."I have money to fight with."
"I know," nodded Ward. "You have a little over twenty thousand dollars, Radwin. I also know where the money is. An attorney acting for the chauffeur that was hurt so badly in the automobile smash-up has already started in to attach that money in a suit for damages by the chauffeur."
* * * * * * * * * *
It is time to turn from too disagreeable a picture. The four roughs first hired by Fred Radwin were sent to the penitentiary for a year each.
Hodges, in consideration of furnishing useful state's evidence, was sentenced to the penitentiary for two years and a half for his share in the automobile plot.
Radwin, for conspiracy in setting on the roughs, was sentenced to three years in the penitentiary; for his part in the automobile affair five years more were added. It will be a long time, yet, ere Radwin will breathe the air as a free man.
John C. Rhinds vanished completely. True, one returned traveler reported having seen Rhinds at Nice, performing paltry services for American tourists in return for paltry "tips."
Mrs. Rhinds and her daughter, having decided to make the best of matters, are now living quietly and happily in a western town. They believe John C. to be dead.
The mystery of that torpedo has never been officially cleared. In naval circles, however, there is no doubt whatever felt as to the guilt of Rhinds and Radwin; but it is also felt that both have been suitably punished for their dastardly conduct. The three Rhinds torpedo boats were seized, under court orders, and sold to satisfy the claims of creditors of the Rhinds Company.
The chauffeur recovered twenty thousand dollars damages through the attachment of Radwin's funds and the subsequent civil suit. Besides which, after a few months, the chauffeur had practically recovered from his painful injuries.
David Pollard was out of hospital in three weeks. In twice that length of time he felt as well as ever.
Later on, the Pollard Submarine Boat Company received from the United States Government orders for eighteen torpedo boats in all, the "Benson" and "Hastings" included. One of the new ones, under this order, was named the "Somers." The Navy has accepted all three names, and the boats are now known in the service by these names. Later on the fortunes of the three submarine boys were materially increased by these sales.
One of the first pleasures experienced by David Pollard, after his discharge from hospital, was that of joining the rest of the Farnum party in dining with the members of the naval board and the gunboat's officers in the messroom of the "Oakland."
In the course of a little speech after dinner Captain Magowan referred in glowing terms to the splendid work of the submarine boys on that Lightning Cruise, and their success in being first to reach the derelict and torpedo it.
The president of the board was followed by Lieutenant Danvers, who, among other things said:
"The performances of Captain Benson and of his brother officers on the Pollard boats have, indeed, been wonderful. 'Wonderful' may not be quite the word, but, at this moment, I am so carried away with enthusiasm that I cannot cruise about for mere words." (Laughter and applause.) "The other day, a naval comrade, in talking with me about the performances of Jack Benson and his friends, told me be considered them to be wizards of the deep." (More applause.)
"But I took exception to my comrade's well meant remarks. A wizard, as we understand one nowadays, is a mere pretender, a sleight-of-hand man—a jack at cards. I would offer a more fitting title—and in all sincerity—when I allude to Jack Benson, Hal Hastings and Eph Somers as the Young Kings of the Deep!" (Tremendous applause.)
* * * * * * * * * *
Here we will leave the submarine boys briefly, but we shall come upon them again in their next succeeding adventures—adventures that make a fitting climax, in the next volume, which will be entitled: "The Submarine Boys for the Flag; Or, Deeding Their Lives to Uncle Sam."