Jack's employer gave him rather too much credit in supposing that the boy had already worked out the problem of finding those who had made the attack on the "Benson."
As the submarine boy left the breakfast room he felt as much in the dark as ever. The only known spies who were still at large, for some reason known only to the Secret Service men, were M. Lemaire, Mlle. Nadiboff and Kamanako.
"This is rather earlier than either of that pair in the habit of showing themselves," muttered Benson, as the first two names crossed his thoughts. "I wonder whether I could get the least bit of an inkling by going to the jail and talking with Gaston? If I could bluff him into telling me anything, it might be so much gained. I might catch him off his guard, if I could get him angry enough."
Full of this interesting idea, the submarine boy strolled slowly along to the little jail, forming his plans as he went.
Arrived at the jail, Captain Jack found the keeper, as yet, in ignorance of the dastardly attempt that had been made on the submarine boat the night before. He listened, aghast, as Benson told him the whole story.
"Now, I've got a notion that Gaston's crowd are very likely at the bottom of this whole deal," continued the submarine boy, in a low tone. "For one thing, while perhaps nothing much can be done to the other spies, this fellow, Gaston, is in here for a crime which, under the Florida laws, will go hard with him. It means that he'll be locked up for a few years. That may make both him and Lemaire ugly enough to put them up to almost any mischief. Was M. Lemaire here to see the fellow yesterday?"
"Lemaire has not been hero at all," replied the jailer.
"Was Mlle. Nadiboff here to see him yesterday?"
"No; she has been holding aloof. With the exception of his lawyer, the only people who ye been here to see Gaston were two fellows who came yesterday, about noon."
"Oho!" muttered Benson. "Who were they?"
The jailer turned to reach for a memorandum book.
"I keep the names given by all who come here to see prisoners, so I shall be able to answer you."
"Ah, here are the names. One fellow called himself Leroux, the otherStephanoulis."
"One name French, and the other Greek," muttered the submarine boy, thinking hard. "What did they look like?"
The jailer quickly and carefully described the pair. Jack listened attentively. Then rose, briskly.
"Did you hear any of the conversation they had with Gaston?"
"No."
"If they come again to-day can you lock them up and hold them?"
"If I have proper authority."
"If you get a telephone message from Mr. Trotter, would that be good enough authority?"
"Yes; on that I could hold them long enough to give Trotter a chance to come here and take them or else to get them committed on a regular warrant."
"If you keep within sound of your telephone bell, then, I think you'll have authority within a few minutes," replied Jack, briskly.
"That's a live, hustling boy," muttered the jailer, looking after young Benson through a window, as the submarine boy hurried away.
Before he had gone far, Jack encountered one of the nondescript surreys, hauled by an antiquated nag and driven by a battered darkey, that often do duty as cab in Florida. Poor as the rig was, it offered a chance of greater speed than Captain Benson could make at a walk, so he quickly engaged the rig and was driven to the place where the Secret Service men were stopping.
"You've brought us the only thing like a real clue that we have," declared Mr. Trotter, very frankly, after he had heard Jack's story. "Wait a moment, and I'll have Packwood get busy over the telephone."
Within the next twenty minutes not only had the jail been telephoned to; Packwood also talked with all the nearby railway stations in that section of the country.
"If those rascals can be found," declared Trotter, "I think we shall have gone a long way in clearing up the matter. As you say, the fellow Gaston has more reason than any of the rest of the crowd to want a complete revenge against you."
Then Mr Packwood left to walk through the little town around Spruce Beach, to see whether he could encounter any two worthies who answered to the description of Leroux and Stephanoulis.
Before half-past nine, however, word came that local constables at a little railway town a dozen miles away had arrested a couple of suspects and were bringing them to Spruce Beach. The prisoners had been taken while waiting for a north bound train, and had tickets all the way through to New York.
Then Jack hastened back to Messrs. Farnum and Pollard to report what was in the air.
"By Jupiter, Jack, I knew you had some thing strong in your mind when you left us," gasped the shipbuilder. "But I didn't imagine you'd run down the wretches as swiftly as that."
"We don't yet know that we've got the right hair," replied Captain Jack.
"I'm willing to wager money on it, if it comes to that," retorted Mr.Farnum.
Before noon the two prisoners were brought into Spruce Beach. Trotter and Packwood stopped, in a 'bus with the prisoners, to show them to Jack at the hotel.
"That pair look rascally enough to do any dirty trick," declared JacobFarnum, in high disgust, as he looked over Leroux and Stephanoulis.
The prisoners were, indeed, "hard hooking." Both were men below average size, with sullen, defiant eyes. Both were dressed roughly, like laborers. Yet, when taken, each had been found to have a considerable sum of money about him.
"We can't make either of the fellows talk, but maybe they will later, when we begin to employ some of the third degree on them," whispered Mr. Trotter to Jack. "My boy, I think you've put us on the real trail. If the jailer identifies them as Gaston's callers of yesterday, we'll know where we stand."
Fifteen minutes later the Secret Service men returned. The jailer had pronounced the pair to be Gaston's callers of the day before. Moreover, the jailer had obligingly locked up the pair until Trotter and Packwood could obtain proper authority for him to hold them. Leroux and Stephanoulis had been placed in cells from which they could not possibly communicate with Gaston, whose cell lay in another wing of the jail.
"As soon as that pair found that, for some reason, their mine failed to explode under you last night," Trotter hinted, "they knew that their game was up. They hurried away and lay concealed in the distance. Then they saw the party from the 'Waverly' hunting on shore, with lantern's, and they took to the woods. That pair of rascals knew how risky it would be for them to try to leave at the local railway station today, so they struck off through the woods on foot making for another town at a distance. The constables who brought them down here say that Leroux and Stephanoulis were a surely astonished pair when they found themselves nabbed. We are getting into a bigger nest of trouble down here than we expected when we left Washington."
After, the Secret Service men had gone, Jacob Farnum turned as though to go inside the hotel.
"I'm wondering whether there are any letters for me," he said.
"I'll go to the office and inquire," proposed Jack Benson. At the desk he received two letters for his employer, and turned away with them in one hand when his steps were arrested by the sound of a sweet feminine voice at the further end of the desk.
The speaker was Mlle. Nadiboff.
"She looks as sweet and as contented as ever," thought the submarine boy, with some wonder. "Really, she doesn't look as though a care had crossed her path."
"Can you furnish me with a chauffeur, and order my car up?" Mlle.Nadiboff was inquiring.
"I am very sorry, Mademoiselle, but we haven't a single chauffeur that we can spare," replied the clerk, respectfully.
"Then may I rent one of your own cars, with a man to drive it?"
"Again, I am very sorry, Mademoiselle, but all the hotel cars are engaged."
The pretty Russian stamped her foot impatiently.
"Oh, no matter, then," she cried. "I will go to the garage and take out my own car. I know how to manage it."
"I regret very much to have to report, Mademoiselle," replied the clerk, speaking as respectfully as ever, "that one of the hind wheels has been removed from your car."
Mlle. Nadiboff stared at the clerk in amazement.
"Who has dared do such a thing?" she demanded, angrily.
"I am sorry, but I do not know," answered the clerk.
"Then I suppose it would be impossible, even, for me to hire one of your livery rigs?" she continued icily.
"You have guessed right, Mademoiselle."
"Oh, but this is insupportable!" cried the pretty Russian, turning away.
As she did so, she caught sight of Jack Benson for the first time.
"Oh, I would like just a word with you, my Captain," she called softly, moving after the boy, who had started toward the door.
She overtook Jack, resting a gloved hand on his sleeve.
"Do not stop," she urged, softly. "I will keep on with you, out onto the veranda."
In silence Jack stepped outside with her. Mr. Farnum had vanished for the moment, so Benson was alone with his pretty companion.
"Now, tell me, my Captain," she begged, "why it is that I cannot get either my own car, or any other conveyance, for a little drive?"
"I could only guess, Mlle. Nadiboff, and you can do that as well asI," Jack replied, gravely.
"But I desire you should guess for me, my Captain. What do you say?" she insisted, her eyes scanning his grave face.
"At the risk of seeming rude, Mademoiselle, I am not going to be prying enough to make any guesses about your affairs," Captain Benson answered, quickly.
He thought he had gotten out of the matter as cleverly as it could be done.
"Some one is taking altogether too great an interest in my affairs, my Captain. I trust you have no hand in it, for it is possible that interference with my comfort will prove dangerous to the offenders. Yet, pardon me, for I am sure that you, my Captain, would not cause me any uneasiness. Let those who do beware!"
As she let go of his arm and turned to go inside, Mlle. Nadiboff's smile was bright, almost friendly. Yet back of that smile, in her expressive eyes, lurked a look that made the boy start.
It was a look that spoke of deadly, things, and Captain Jack Benson had come quite to believe that Mlle. Nadiboff could be not only quite deadly at need, but also equally reckless.
As Mr. Farnum came around a bend in the veranda Jack hurried to him, handing over the letters. Then he related the little scene he had just witnessed in the office, and described how Mlle. Nadiboff had walked out with him.
"So the little minx was hinting at more mischief to come, was she?" demanded the shipbuilder. "Jack, I believe she's equal to it. Her crowd are anyway, if it's true that Gaston, from his cell in jail, could plan the attempt to blow the 'Benson' last night."
Hal, too, soon came up and heard. He turned anxious gaze upon his chum.
"Jack, old fellow," he pleaded, "I know you're not much given to being afraid of things. But, at least, look out for yourself a bit. Be more prudent than you usually are about yourself. That crowd of foreign spies, having failed and having brought themselves into trouble, mean to have revenge. Any of us are liable, but you'll be the shining mark of all to be picked out."
"There can't be many more of that crowd left at large," laughed Jack, lightly.
"I wonder why the Secret Service men don't arrest Lemaire and the Nadiboff young woman?" asked Mr. Pollard, the last to rejoin the little group.
"Trotter and Packwood must have some good reasons of their own," Jack replied, thoughtfully. "For one thing, they hardly have any evidence that they could use against the pair."
"They could at least drive them from Spruce Beach," retorted the inventor.
"Perhaps the Secret Service man are giving the pair enough rope for their hanging," proposed Jack.
At that moment the two detectives were espied going past in a buggy.They waved their hands to the party. Jack replied by a signal to halt.He and Hal ran down to the road to speak to the detectives.
"If it's a fair question to ask," demanded Hal, "what are you going to do with Lemaire and Mlle. Nadiboff?"
"To tell you the truth, we don't know," Trotter answered. "We haven't anything we could very well fasten on them. But of this you may be sure; our various moves are known to them, and they're on the tenterhooks of anxiety wondering what's going to break loose next. More than that, both are sharp enough to have guessed that it would be impossible for either of them to get away from Spruce Beach, now, without our leave. But we'll have to leave you, now, boys. You've been of so much help to us that I don't mind telling you what we're up to at this moment. We're driving back to jail, and we're going to try to put the screws on Leroux and his Greek companion. If we can make 'em think we've gained new evidence against 'em, they may get scared and begin to talk. If they talk fast enough, they'll begin to tell some truth."
The buggy rolled along again.
"You didn't tell them a word about Mlle. Nadiboff's threats to you," muttered Hal.
"I didn't mean to," Jack replied, simply.
"Why not?"
"Well, for one thing, I couldn't swear that she did threaten me. She may have meant it all for nonsense."
"Yes," mocked Hal Hastings. "That, would be just like her!"
The submarine not being due to go out that day, the chums decided to remain on shore, in order to keep in touch with the march of events. The day was so balmy that Mr. Farnum dropped into a chair on the porch, Pollard occupying the chair next to him. Hal, buying a magazine at the hotel news stand, sat on the edge of the porch, his feet touching the ground. Jack, his mind too full of problems to permit him to read, paced up and down the grounds. Finally he strolled, out past the gate, crossed the road and began to stroll along the shingle of bench.
Jacob Farnum removed his cigar from between his lips long enough to remark:
"As long as the lad keeps in sight, Pollard, it will be worth our while to keep an occasional eye on him."
"And when he goes out of sight—? asked the inventor, slowly.
"It will be high time to call him back. Somehow, Dave, I'm growing uneasy over the boy. I can't help the feeling that he's running into a good deal of danger that's likely to explode under him at any moment, just as that mine was intended to last night."
"It makes one feel uncanny to be at Spruce Beach," growled the inventor, savagely.
"Well, we can't run away," retorted Jacob Farnum, blandly.
"Why not, if we feel like it?"
The shipbuilder laughed.
"Why, Dave, a spirited lad like Jack Benson would be furious over anything that looked like a retreat. He'd be savage. Now, Dave, we can hardly afford to put such a slight on the boy who has had so much to do with our success."
"I suppose not," grunted Mr. Pollard, settling back in his chair.
"The odd part of it," said Farnum, presently, "is, that while we're the center of an international cyclone, so to speak, the rest of the folks at Spruce Beach don't know a word about it. Look at the crowds of folks around us who haven't even a breath of an idea of what has happened, or is, likely to happen. Not a soul around here, except our own few, have any idea that an attempt was made, last night, to blow up that mysterious-looking little submarine craft riding at her moorings out yonder."
"I wonder what the crowd would do, if it did know?" asked Pollard, gazing out curiously over the throngs of pleasure-seekers. "That shows what a dreamer you are, Dave, and how little you know of your own fellow citizens. What would the crowd do? Why, it would change itself into a mob. Mlle. Nadiboff would be hustled off out of town, Lemaire would be lynched, or mighty close to it, and it would be strange if the mob didn't march on the jail itself."
"Then it would never do to let the crowd know all that's happening, would it?" asked Pollard.
Jack, from thinking over the problems that had come up in connection with the spies, had at last let his attention wander to the crowds. Down at the beach hundreds were taking an afternoon dip. Other hundreds were strolling up and down the sands. Children were building sand castles or houses. A good many small boats were out with pleasure parties. Yet many, both grown-ups and children, looked positively bored. They needed excitement.
"How near this crowd came to having something to talk about," muttered young Benson to himself, with a smile. "If that mine had gone off last night, no one at Spruce Beach would have felt dull to-day."
Finding that the afternoon air was making him dull and inclined to gape, Captain Jack turned back from the beach. He sauntered along the road, and was about to cross it, when he heard a sharp snap. It was like a subdued shot.
In the same instant a hissing sound wentpseu! in front of his face.A distinct breeze, small though it was, fanned his eyes. Then chug!Something landed in the trunk of the tree he was passing.
"That was a shot!" guessed the submarine boy, like a flash, and in the next breath he muttered: "Aimed at me, too!"
Jack pitched forward, falling upon his face. If one shot had been fired, another might be as soon as the unknown marksman realized that he had missed.
Several people, near by, fancied they had heard a shot, and turned, curiously. Then, as soon as Benson was espied lying on the ground a rush was made in his direction.
At that moment Hal Hastings happened to be looking over toward the beach. Like a flash he was up and away, his magazine falling from his lap to the ground.
"Now, what on earth has taken Hastings off like that?" demanded Mr. Farnum, looking around in surprise. "There are other people running, too. Come along, Dave!"
Hal shot his way through the rapidly gathering crowd. He reached JackBenson just as the latter leaped up, laughing.
"Why all this excitement, just because I stubbed my toe against a dew-drop and fell?" demanded Benson, laughing.
"Weren't you shot?" gasped Hal.
"If I was, I'll make the rascal prove it," asked back Captain Jack."But, now you mention it, I think the treewashit."
Jack turned and looked the tree trunk over at about the height of his own head from the ground.
"See here," he remarked, laying a finger on a small perforation in the bark, "I think a bullet, or something of the sort, went in here."
"We'll soon find out then," proposed Hal, whipping out his jack-knife, opening a blade and beginning to dig. The crowd grew in size. Messrs. Farnum and Pollard had great difficulty in forcing their way through.
After some time spent in patient work Hal dug out a steel-jacketed bullet, short and of small calibre.
"You want to find the man with a weapon that bullet fits, and then make it warm for him," advised one man in the front rank of the crowd.
"Why?" queried Captain Jack, coolly, examining the missile, then dropping it carelessly into his pocket. "Some fellow fired an accidental shot, very likely, and is at this moment the most scared man at Spruce Beach. What's the use of jumping on anyone just because he had a moment of carelessness?"
"That's right, young level-head!" nodded another man, approvingly.
Messrs. Farnum and Pollard hung back somewhat. They were near enough to hear and see, and they had their instant suspicions. But the crowd knew nothing of the spy outrages, and it was not necessary to inform strangers.
So, within a few minutes the crowd broke up, straying off in quest of something more interesting. The submarine party kept on up to the hotel porch.
"That was a revengeful move, pure and simple," declared Jacob Farnum, in a low voice.
"Of course," assented Jack. "It's going to be something of a task though, to find out, for certain, just who fired that shot."
Even as the four stood there on the veranda a door opened, and M.Lemaire, faultlessly attired for an afternoon stroll, stepped out.
"Ah, good afternoon, gentlemen," was his unconcerned greeting, as he recognized the quartette.
This French spy had evidently dressed himself with a good deal of care.He carried himself with much precision and lightly twirled a natty cane.
"Pardon me, monsieur," spoke Jack, stepping forward, and looking past the Frenchman; "is that one of your friends down the road?"
As the Frenchman turned to look, young Benson swiftly and adroitly took his cane from him.
Like a flash, his eyes full of fire, Lemaire heeled about, then leaped at the young submarine captain.
But Hal Hastings stepped between them so neatly that the Frenchman collided with him instead.
"Hold this fellow a moment, please," requested Captain Jack. "I've found something interesting."
Hal Hastings grabbed Lemaire's right arm. Jacob Farnum instantly possessed himself of the other. David Pollard sprang forward so that he could take a hand, if need be.
Captain Jack stood holding the spy's walking stick, ferule end upward. It was a rather long, slender-looking ferrule of steel. But what interested young Benson most was that he had found that the ferrule was hollow.
Quickly the submarine boy examined the rest of the cane.
"Release me! Hand that stick back to me!" hissed the Frenchman. "Oh, some one shall pay for this unpardonable outrage!"
But Hal and Mr. Farnum only gripped the spy the more tightly.
"I believe I've found out something," announced Jack, in a low voice."Wait a second or two."
He had come upon a concealed spring near the head of the cane. Stepping to the edge of the porch, the submarine boy pointed the ferrule end at the ground, then pressed upon the spring.
A sharp, though not loud report followed, and a bullet plowed into the ground. There was a flash at the end of the ferrule, though but a barely perceptible amount of smoke.
"So, M. Lemaire, you carry a pistol cane, that uses smokeless powder and shoots steel-jacketed bullets?" inquired Jack, turning to the prisoner, who, white-faced, stood gnashing hi's teeth in helpless rage. "I wonder if the bullet Hastings dug out of the tree trunk will be found to fit this weapon?"
"You miser-r-r-rable dog!" screamed Lemaire. "Thief! Liar!"
"Oh, keep cool about it, do," urged Jack, smilingly.
"What's this?" demanded Trotter, suddenly appearing on the scene.Packwood was just behind him.
Jack swiftly told what had happened, and what he had just discovered, at the same time passing the cane to the Secret Service man.
"Lemaire, I guess you'd better come with us, for safe-keeping," advisedTrotter, dryly.
"You ar-r-rest me?" snarled the Frenchman.
"Oh, yes; if you insist upon a name for it."
M. Lemaire's face looked uglier than Jack had ever dreamed it possible for a man's face to look. As Hal and Farnum let go his arms the spy took a quick step toward Jack Benson.
"Stop that!" commanded Trotter, sharply, leaping to grab the spy.
"I only want to say one word to this young scamp!" hissed Lemaire."I will not hurt him."
"You can wager he won't," added Captain Jack, clenching his fists and watching the other alertly. "Let him speak to me, if he wants."
Trotter thereupon halted, though he watched the Frenchman with lynx-like wakefulness.
Lemaire, however, merely leaned forward until he had placed his lips close to one of the young submarine captain's ears.
"See here," hissed the spy, "hold your tongue about everything, and make sure Gaston and myself are released. Else, no corner of the earth will be a safe place for you. You can find no place in the world where you will be safe from destruction—unless you get us out of this one bad fix!"
"You may have him now," announced Captain Jack, ironically. "I reckon he has spoken his piece."
Trotter's answer was to leap upon the Frenchman, pinioning his arms behind him. Packwood snapped handcuffs over the prisoner's wrists.
"Here is the bullet that Hastings dug out of the tree—the one that was probably fired at me," added Captain Jack. "And here is M. Lemaire's cane-pistol. You can see whether the bullet fits the cane."
Trotter took them, with a swift, admiring look at Benson's cool, handsome face.
Then, guiding their prisoner, the Secret Service men moved off hastily, for two or three hundred beach walkers had just discovered that something exciting had happened, and were hurrying forward.
Lemaire was forced into the buggy and driven rapidly away. Once out of sight the Secret Service men turned, driving straight for the local jail.
Before anyone in the excited crowd could ask what had happened the submarine people had vanished.
These four hurried to a room that Mr. Farnum had reserved while they remained at Spruce Beach.
"What was it that rascally Frenchman whispered to you?" demanded the shipbuilder.
Jack promptly repeated the threat, whereat Mr. Farnum's face grew decidedly grave.
"The worst of it is, Jack, I think the fellow not only meant the threat, but has the connections necessary to carry it out," said the ship builder, slowly. "I am quite prepared to believe that these spies work in large groups, when necessary. I am beginning to think that it will be wise move to get you way from here—in time."
"That would give Gaston a fine chance to go clear," retorted youngBenson. "I am a very important witness when his case comes up."
"You are also a very important young man for our submarine company," replied Jacob Farnum, "so important, in fact, that I don't want to have you put out of this world through any of their plots for revenge."
"But don't you see, sir, that, if I run away from here, the fellowGaston is very likely to be liberated?"
"Let him go, then," urged Mr. Farnum, though it was plain that he spoke reluctantly.
"It's just what I won't do, sir. I wouldn't be a good citizen if I should allow a criminal to escape justice just because I was, afraid to stay and testify against him," argued Captain Jack.
"I admit the force of all you say," assented Mr. Farnum, slowly. "Yet, if I should find, after thinking it all over, that it will be best to instruct you to leave here quietly, you won't refuse to obey, will you?"
"Yes," declared Jack Benson.
"What? It would be the first time you ever balked at orders, then."
"But this is different, Mr. Farnum. I refuse to obey any order that will tend to defeat the ends of justice."
Jacob Farnum winced at that statement of the matter. He had been anxious only to save Jack from the attempts of a dangerous crowd.
"Jack is right," broke in David Pollard, decisively.
"When he puts the case in that way, I don't dare say that he isn't," admitted the shipbuilder. "At the same time, I can't bear the thought of the lad being butchered to gratify the grudge of any of the rascally crew that we've offended here at Spruce Beach."
A slight, rustling sound at the door caused them all to wheel about. Jacob Farnum's eyes beheld a slip of white paper lying on the floor, just inside the door. Jack Benson saw it, also, but he sprang past the paper, pulling the door open.
Around a turn in the corridor the submarine boy heard the sound of fleet footsteps.
Jack pursued, but could find no one, and the sound of moving feet had also ceased. As soon as he was satisfied that he could not catch the prowler, the submarine boy returned to the room.
"Do you see this?" asked the shipbuilder, holding out the slip of paper.
"Another warning, I suppose?" Benson ventured.
"Yes; and it shows that you are being followed and watched. Something worse is almost certain yet to happen."
Jack took the slip of paper, reading these printed words:
"You have been fairly warned. Are you going to be a fool? Obey, or—"
That was all. The meaning of the words was plain enough, but Jack, with as cool a smile as ever, folded the slip, dropping it in one of his pockets.
"This will interest Trotter," he remarked.
"There is no use whatever in advising you, suppose?" asked the shipbuilder.
"If these threats were directed against you, would you cringe from them?" demanded the young submarine captain.
"Of course I wouldn't," replied Farnum, a sudden flash lighting his eyes as he spoke.
"Then why should you expect to see me turn coward?"
"I won't say another word about it, Jack!" replied the shipbuilder, gripping his captain's hand. "I have dreaded to see you go down under the mysterious assaults of these scoundrels. I have hated to see a boy come to that harm while serving me. But I realize, now, that it would hurt you worse to run away than it would to stay and face any kind of punishment or even death itself."
"That's the talk, sir," nodded Hal. "And no one is going to harm him, either. There are too many of us—if we keep our eyes open."
That "if" covered a wide field of possibilities. Not one of them could foresee all that the ingenuity of the enemy would provide in the way of danger.
To quiet his own agitation Jacob Farnum had recourse to a cigar. He lighted it, smoking with a very solemn look on his face.
"What's all the excitement, I wonder?" muttered Hal, presently.
The distant sound of running feet, then cries came to their ears, though none in the little party could distinguish the words.
"There's some big excitement on. Come along," urged Jack, reaching for his cap.
"Humph! We've had excitement enough to last reasonable people for a long time," grumbled the shipbuilder, but he, too, sprang for his hat.
Ere they had run far through the corridor they encountered other guests fleeing.
"What's the matter?" called Jack.
"Fire in the south wing," called back one man. "We don't know, yet, whether the hotel is doomed."
Just then the fire alarm bell of the hotel began to sound loudly in all the corridors.
That brought the remaining guests on the run, some appearing not completely dressed.
As the rushing throng began to thicken at a door on the ground floor the sound of a whistled of clanging gongs was heard without. The Spruce Beach fire department was responding to the alarm.
Captain Jack bounded out. Hal kept close at his chum's heels whileMessrs. Farnum and Pollard came along less fleetly.
Through half a dozen windows on the second floor of the south wing flames now leaped, while the smoke curled up in dense clouds. This wing was built wholly of wood, and was doomed, even though the rest of the hotel could be saved.
Jack halted, at last, Hal bumping into him.
Some of the firemen were hauling hose from a cart, while others were attaching an end of one length to a fireplug. A hook and ladder truck was hauled to the scene, its crew standing by ready at need.
Whish! Two four-inch streams struck the flames, yet seemed only to feed them to greater fury.
"We can't put that blaze out, men!" roared the local fire chief. "Turn the streams against the main building and stop the blaze from spreading. Let the axe crew follow me!"
Swiftly a couple of long ladders were unlimbered and placed close to the main building. The fire chief and his men scaled these with agility and tried to fight their way into the rear of the blaze.
Jack stood scanning the windows on the third floor, just above the present belt of fire. Then, through one of the windows on the upper floor he saw a sudden red glow thrust its way.
"The fire is eating through to the top," he turned to explain to Messrs.Farnum and Pollard, who had just reached the boys.
"I think they'll save the main building, however," returned Mr. Farnum, as the ringing sound of ax-blows reached them and the heavy streams of water were carried after the wielders of the axes.
"I hope everybody is out, up there in the wing," uttered Hal, glancing in that direction.
As if in answer a window was suddenly raised with frantic haste.
A face, a figure appeared there, framed by the sill and sides. Then a red tongue of flame shot up in the background, illumining the face of a terrified woman.
"Why, it's Mlle. Nadiboff!" gasped Jack Benson.
The pretty Russian shouted down appealingly, though her words were drowned by the crackling of the blaze and the lusty strokes of the fire fighters.
"Quick! We must get a ladder up there!" shouted Jack, turning back to the truck. "We can't let a human being be burned before our eyes."
But there were no firemen at hand. They had followed their chief.Hundreds of citizens stood about, but they needed a leader.
"Come on, men!" roared Jack. "Help me off with this longest ladder."
A dozen pair of hands reached for it at once. Off came the ladder with a bound, while other men pressed up to aid.
"Right up to the sill of the window where that woman is!" shouted young Captain Benson. Up went the ladder, exactly in place, while a score of voices shouted:
"Get out on the ladder and come down, young lady! Can you?"
As if in answer, Mlle. Nadiboff was seen suddenly to reel backward as though overcome by the smoke that poured up at her from the floor below.
"Where are you going?" shouted Jacob Farnum, hoarsely, as the submarine captain threw off his jacket like a flash.
"Up there—of course—to help her!" Jack shouted back at him, as he leaped at the rungs.
"It's the only thing a man can do," admitted Farnum, hoarsely. "Good luck to you, Jack!"
The first part of the climb was easy.
Unmindful of the cheers that followed the submarine boy raced up the ladder.
Then he struck the belt of heavy smoke. Flames, too, leaped out at him. He went through that zone of red with all possible speed, yet swift as he was, he felt as though he were being roasted.
Then, at a greater height, the boy was forced to close his mouth, barely breathing, for the smoke surrounded him. He felt as though he were stifling, but he kept on.
Up on the sill the watching crowd below saw him. Then Jack Benson leaped inside.
Ah! He could breathe, here, just a bit more, though the smoke had followed him.
At the further end of the room, by the door that opened upon the corridor, the flames were eating their way up through from the floor below. There was a red barrier there that shut off any hope of retreat by the corridor.
Yet these things Jack Benson saw only as his gaze swiftly swept the room.
Mlle. Nadiboff lay in an unmoving, unconscious heap on the floor, some ten feet back from the window. She was in evening dress, as though prepared to descend to dinner.
"She can't go through the line of fire in that rig," muttered Jack, even while his head reeled from the weight of smoke on his lungs.
Furiously he sprang at the bed, snatching off the blankets. These he threw on the floor, rolling the Russian woman up in them.
Then he bent over to lift her. Ordinarily he could have performed the task with ease, for his young arms were strong. But now, three-quarters strangled by the smoke he had inhaled, Jack fairly tottered, with the insensible human form in his arms, back to the window:
As he stepped out upon the ladder Jack vaguely heard the cheers that volleyed up at him.
To most of those below it looked as though he were moving easily. But Hal, waiting on the rungs of the ladder, just below the fearful belt of smoke and flames, saw differently at a glance.
Holding firmly to his burden, Jack started down carefully, but as swiftly as his quaking knees would permit.
"Come along! Steady with you!" bellowed up Hal Hastings, as he fought his way up to his chum.
An instant later Hal growled out
"Let her go. I have her—safe!"
Hal was just above the smoke belt, and his own head was reeling, now. Tongues of flame leaped out at them all. Speed alone could save them from one of the most painful of deaths.
Down through the belt they moved. As they neared the ground willing hands reached out to catch them.
"Pull those blankets off the girl! They're afire," shouted one man, and was obeyed. Mlle. Nadiboff, after the blankets had been stripped away, was carried off, still unconscious though safe as far as fire was concerned.
The clothing of both the submarine boys had caught and was smouldering. Both Jack and Hal submitted to being thrown on the ground and rolled until the last spark had been extinguished.
"Bring milk—a lot of it, for these young men," ordered a physician who stood in the crowd. For Jack and Hal, on their feet again, leaned almost helplessly against Farnum and Pollard. Their lungs were so filled with smoke that both boys felt as though they could never breathe again.
When the milk was brought, however, and forced down their throats under the doctor's orders, they found that this somewhat oily fluid brought back a good deal of the missing power to breathe. After a while both boys began to move about again. Yet both felt a strange feeling of oppression and weakness.
"For the rest, your feelings will simply have to wear off," the physician told them. "You'll be all right in time. And it was a fine, manly piece of work that you both did."
After nearly an hour of stubborn work the firemen saved the main building, though that southern wing was practically destroyed.
When the danger was over hotel discipline asserted itself once more. News was passed that the belated dinner was ready, and the lately excited guests filed in for their meal, though many complained of a loss of appetite.
Neither Jack nor Hal felt like eating then. They sat by Messrs. Farnum and Pollard, though the submarine boys contented themselves with sipping more milk.
"That was one way of answering the enemy's threats," laughed the shipbuilder, in an undertone.
"We don't know that Mlle. Nadiboff was in any way connected with the threats," replied Jack, in an equally low tone.
"She belongs in the enemy's ranks," observed David Pollard, dryly.
As the quartette were leaving the table one of the negro waiters stepped up to them.
"De lady dat was brought down outah de fiah done wanter see Marse Benson in de parlor," announced the waiter.
"Mlle. Nadiboff?" inquired Mr. Farnum. "Then I guess we had all better go in Jack, I'm going to keep you in my sight."
As they entered the parlor the submarine people saw three or four women standing about a sofa on which lay the pretty Russian.
At sight of the newcomers the Russian signed to the attendants of her own sex to raise her, and then to withdraw. Jack went forward to the sofa, his friends taking seats on the opposite side of the room.
"Pardon my not rising, my Captain," begged Mlle. Nadiboff, as Jack Benson left his friends to go forward and greet her. "I find I have not my full strength yet."
Since she offered her hand, Jack, under the circumstances, took it simply, then released it. He stood before her in the uniform that had suffered in the fire.
"I am told that you, my Captain, nearly lost your own life in saving my less than worthless one," continued the Russian woman. "It was a strange thing for you to—considering. Will you believe me when I tell you that I greatly respect your courage and your manhood?"
"Yes," bowed Jack. "Though it was nothing but a sailor's easy trick."
"You would make little of it, would you, my Captain?" smiled Mlle. Nadiboff, plaintively. "True, you risked much for a life that has been worth but little. Still, I sent for you to do more than assure you of my appreciation of your generosity."
As she spoke, the young woman thrust one hand into the bosom of her dress. She drew out a little envelope which she held in her hand for a few moments.
"You have been threatened, my Captain?" she whispered, looking up at him.
"Oh, ye-es," assented Captain Jack Benson, shrugging his shoulders.
"And by very desperate people."
"So far," smiled the boy, "they have injured only themselves."
"Yet you do not know how far their vengeance can reach."
"Nor shall I lose any sleep thinking over it," Captain Jack replied, looking down at her with his baffling smile.
"Your enemies had one trick prepared for you," whispered the Russian, "that you might have found it hard to meet."
"Yes?"
"Of course you do not suspect it, but we have even one of the waiters here—a worthless, reckless black—in our pay."
"It may have been he who thrust the paper under our door before—before the fire?" ventured Jack.
"It was," nodded Mlle. Nadiboff, seriously. "And it was the same waiter who, on receiving this envelope from me, would have mixed the contents with the next cup of coffee served you in the dining room of this hotel. But I am overcome by your generosity, my Captain. Take this envelope—and do not place what it contains in your coffee."
Though Jack Benson may have started inwardly, his hand did not tremble in the least as he reached out and took the envelope, which he dropped into one of his pockets.
"Thank you, Mademoiselle," he said, simply.
"There is nothing about me, my Captain, that you can admire," spoke the Russian woman, sadly. "I have not led the right kind of life. But I have just that grain of good in me that enables me to admire one as fine and manly as I have found you to be. You have given me my life—a worthless one, at best. So I give you your life—and may you make as splendid use of it as you have started out to do. And now, good-bye, my Captain. You cannot continue to know such as I."
Despite what he knew of this dangerous woman, Jack Benson felt himself touched.
"What is going to become of you, Mademoiselle?" he asked. "Will you be dragged down in the snares that have entrapped your confederates!"
"I do not know. How could I know?" she asked, looking quickly up at him. "Yet, if my accomplices escape, and find that I have served you, my Captain, do you know the forfeit they will exact?"
"Your life?" whispered Benson.
"Yes!"
"Then, if I can, I am going to help you to escape them," promised the submarine boy. "Yet that can happen only on your most solemn word—given, pardon me, in a moment of absolute honesty—that you will never again play the spy, for the secrets of the United States Government."
"Oh, I will promise that," replied Mlle. Nadiboff, quickly. "Yet I hardly need to. After what I have done, just now, no one in my peculiar line of work would ever trust me again. I shall be shunned, hereafter, if not destroyed, by those who have worked with me."
"I shall do my best to get you safely away from Spruce Beach," promisedJack Benson. "Have you more to say to me, Mademoiselle?"
"Nothing, but good-bye, my Captain."
She held out her hand. Once more Jack took it, bending low over it. Tears shone in her eyes, but Jack did not see them, for he turned, going back to his friends.
Not until they were well away from the parlor did Jack Benson offer any account of the interview that had just taken place.
"Let me have that envelope, then," requested Jacob Farnum, gravely.
"What are you going to do with it, sir?" Jack asked, as he passed it over.
"Do with it?" repeated his employer. "I'm going to take it to the nearest druggist, and find out what the stuff is."
"We'd better take this latest news to our friend Trotter," suggestedDavid Pollard.
"By all means," nodded Farnum. "And I'll meet the rest of you there."
The little house wherein the Secret Service, men had taken up their headquarters was not far away. When the inventor and the submarine boys rang the bell Mr. Packwood admitted them.
"Step right into the next room," advised Mr. Packwood. "You'll find some one there you know."
A the submarine folks entered the room they saw Trotter seated at a table on which were writing materials. At the other side of the table standing very erect, and in a very respectful pose, was the Japanese, Kamanako.
"Good evening, honorable gentlemen," said the Japanese, turning when he heard the new arrivals entering.
"Mr. Kamanako is going to leave us," announced Trotter, with a smile. "He goes north to-night. Here is the slip of paper, my boy, that will take you past any meddlesome inquiry. But it is good only until midnight, so I advise you to be sure to catch to-night's express."
"I shall, and thank you, honorable sir," replied the Japanese, bowing.
"Then I won't detain you any longer, or you may miss your train."
Once more the Japanese bowed, then turned to Captain Jack Benson.
"Honorable Captain," he said, "I had pleasure to show you something about jiu-jitsu. You did me honor to show me most excellent thing you called American strategy. I shall not forget it."
With bows to the others Kamanako quickly took his leave.
"We had nothing very strong on which we could hold that fellow, so we had to let him go," declared Mr. Trotter, after the outer door had closed. Then he added, with a sigh: "That's the worst of catching spies, under such laws as we have in this country. Rarely are we able to punish them as they deserve."
"He won't come back, will he?" asked Jack.
"Not for a while, anyway. We have made the fellow nervous, and he will give us a wide berth for a considerable time."
"Why don't you hit all these people the hardest kind of a blow?" demanded young Benson.
"I wish I knew how to," sighed Trotter.
"Then spoil them with too much publicity," proposed the submarine captain. "Let the whole country know all about them and their records, and just how they look."
"If I could! But how am I to do it?"
"Why, there's a writer here at Spruce Beach," Jack continued; "a man named Hennessy. Let him write all the facts of this whole story, or such of the facts as you want made public. Let Hennessy have the photographs of this spy crew. He can print the yarn in his newspaper and in some magazine, and can use all the photos. Then these people will find themselves so well known that about all of them value as spies will be gone."
"By Jove, but that's a clear-headed idea," muttered Trotter, rising from his chair. "It will do the trick, too. Where is this man, Hennessy?"
"Stopping at the Clayton, sir."
"Packwood, will you go over and get that reporter?" asked Mr. Trotter, turning to his associate.
In the next minute Jack was telling Trotter of the fire-incident and the envelope that Mlle. Nadiboff had given him. By the time the submarine boy had finished his recital Jacob Farnum hurried in.
"That stuff," he reported, "is morphine sulphate, and the druggist says there was enough of it to take you clear out of this world and into the next."
"Hm! That Nadiboff woman!" muttered Trotter. "She has been as dangerous as any of them, and yet it is hard to be rough with her after her one act of gratitude to you, Benson. I could see that she went north on the train, of course, but she'd be liable to suspicion and punishment by some of the members of the gang of that infernal Gaston. He has yet other men, I suspect, who may be watching the trains further on, and Mlle. Nadiboff, after saving you, Benson, from their latest death trap, might run right into their vengeance. She ought to be gotten away from here by some other means."
"She can be—by ship," hinted Jack, quietly.
"Let me see," mused Trotter. "Yes; that can be done, if you want to take some trouble. At about eleven to-night the Savannah freight steamer, bound for Havana, will pass by about a dozen miles out. You could pick her up by watching for her searchlight. Do you feel like sending Nadiboff to Cuba, in that fashion?"
"If it suits her, we'll do it," Jack replied quickly enough.
"It may be very bad for her if it doesn't suit her," replied Trotter, grimly. "Well, hurry along and see if you can do it. Drummond and Miss Peddensen are going north to-night, also."
As the submarine party left the house they met Packwood and Hennessy coming along.
"I think you'll get as good a news story as you can want to-night," said Jack to the reporter. "You remember, Mr. Farnum promised you one before the tip was given to any other reporter."
Hennessy expressed his, thanks warmly, and the quartette hastened on to the hotel. Captain Jack had little difficulty in seeing Mlle. Nadiboff in the parlor. When he explained to her the plan, she gladly accepted.
"You will not believe me, my Captain," she smiled, wearily, "but I am wholly through with spying. I shall never again disgrace my womanhood in that way."
Owing to the fire Mlle. Nadiboff was not burdened with baggage. She carried her evening dress in a new dress suit case bought by Hal at one of the stores. In going away she wore a plain gray dress and dark brown jacket purchased from one of the maids at the hotel. Mlle. Nadiboff's jewelry and money, with which she was well supplied, had been in the hotel safe, so that she left with the means of pursuing her journey in comfort.
"It is a whim of mine, my Captain," cried the Russian, gayly, as they left the hotel, "but will you give me your arm down to the shore?"
"Gladly," Jack agreed.
They took a shore boat and went out to the "Benson." While Captain Jack helped the pretty visitor aboard Hal hastened below to bring her up a chair.
"You have your wish, at last, Mademoiselle, to visit this craft," Jack laughed, then added, gravely: "I am sorry, indeed, that I cannot invite you below."
"I have lost my desire to see the interior of the boat," she replied, with equal gravity.
A start was made in plenty of time. Gayly the "Benson" bounded out over the waves, as though even that grim little steel craft of war could appreciate the fact that its dangers were over.
In time Captain Jack picked up the Havana bound freighter by the rays of her searchlight, and moved on out to intercept her. He signaled that he had a passenger to put aboard. The steamship lay to, lowering a side gangway, and the "Benson" ran neatly in. The transfer was made.
Just as she was helped over the side Mlle. Nadiboff placed her hand inJack's.
"Good-bye, my Captain," she said, sadly.
"Good-bye, Mademoiselle," answered the submarine boy. "And remember that you are done with the spies."
"Forever! Again, good-bye, my Captain."
As both craft moved off on their respective courses Captain Benson saw a little white handkerchief fluttering at the freighter's stern rail. As long as it could be visible over the waters that handkerchief fluttered. "I guess the little Russian must have tied her handkerchief there," observed Eph, dryly, and Captain Jack smiled; while Jacob Farnum turned to whisper to the inventor:
"Dave, our youthful captain has the greatest respect in the world for a woman, but he'll never be made a fool of by one of the wrong kind."
Henceforth, as long as she remained at Spruce Beach, the submarine craft was wholly unmolested and avoided by spies. Gaston, who turned out to be the real leader of one party, instead of M. Lemaire, was sentenced to prison for assault. Leroux and his Greek accomplice confessed to the attempt to explode the mine under the "Benson," and were sent to the penitentiary. There, also, journeyed M. Lemaire, for a long term, on account of his all but successful shot at Jack Benson.
With the exception of those sent to prison none of the spies have as yet been heard from.
For a considerable time the "Benson" remained at, or near, Spruce Beach.Hennessy's articles attracted great attention to the craft. The Navypeople were charmed by the new capabilities shown by this latest of thePollard submarine boats.
Later the submarine boys were destined to turn their attention to new and thrilling work with submarine craft And now came most stirring times that put their grit, intelligence and resource to the hardest kind of tests.
These newest happenings will be related in full in the next volume of this series, which will appear under the title: "The Submarine Boys' Lightning Cruise; Or, The Young Kings of the Deep." The reader of this new volume will find a rare treat in store for him!