"Very much so," replied Lieutenant Ulwin, dryly.
"May I give you a message, sir?" asked the bell-boy, coming closer.
After excusing himself, Benson stepped aside with the boy. Yet the latter spoke loudly enough for several to overhear.
"There's a lady, downstairs at the door, would like to see you, sir.She says it is very, very important, sir."
"Did she give any name?" inquired astonished Jack.
"No, sir; she begged you would overlook that, sir, and just step down to the door for a few moments."
"All right; I'll go," nodded Benson. "But it looks queer."
Excusing himself to his host, Ulwin, and to some of the officers with whom he had been chatting, the leader of the submarine boys went quickly to the coat-room for his hat, then descended in the elevator.
"Vairee strange place, zis, for a lady to follow a zhentleman—to hees club," drawled a French captain.
One or two of the others laughed, imagining that this was some flirtation in which the submarine boy had been engaged. But Eph flared up a bit, looking very red, as he muttered:
"It's only fair to tell you, gentlemen, that we submarine boys don't appreciate jokes at the expense of the finest fellow who ever lived—Mr. Jack Benson!"
"Good boy" murmured Teal.
Yet, when an hour had slipped by, and Benson had not returned, even his loyal comrades began to wonder a good deal. From that frame of mind they passed on, at the end of another hour, to worry.
As Jack reached the door of the United Service Club he found no one at the doorway.
"That's strange," he muttered.
But in another moment he looked down the street. A hundred feet away stood a closed cab. From it a woman leaned, beckoning slightly.
Had she been veiled, Jack would have been instantly suspicious.
But her face showed, and it was a young, fresh, pretty and wholesome looking face.
"I don't know her, but she is very evidently a lady," thought JackBenson, quickly.
Accordingly, he stepped along the sidewalk, lifting his hat courteously as he neared the vehicle.
"You are Mr. Benson?" inquired the young woman.
"Yes, madam."
"I trust you will pardon my calling here, and sending you a message. But it was very urgent that I see you at once—how urgent you cannot yet understand."
"I am here, madam," Jack replied; not knowing what else to say.
"I am going to make another strange request of you."
"It is granted in advance, if possible."
"Will you step inside with me, and drive a little way?" inquired the young woman.
Jack glanced quickly at her. Her face was flushed; evidently she was embarrassed.
"Won't you tell me a little more, madam, about your reason for wishing to see me?" he suggested.
"Yes; but not here—please!" she begged. "I do not want to be seen about here. I shall not detain you long, Mr. Benson. All I ask is that you sit here beside me, and that we drive a little way, while I say a few words to you."
Jack hesitated. He did not like the look of the adventure. Yet, on the other hand, it was hard to see harm or danger in it. The young woman was evidently, as he had at first guessed, a lady.
"Then you do not feel able to tell me, here, what you wish to speak with me about?" he inquired.
"I shall begin as soon as we start on our drive," she promised. "Oh, please do not refuse me. You cannot imagine how much is at stake—for me!"
Though Jack Benson felt the peculiarity of the request from a stranger, he was unable to see how harm could result from his being kind.
"Very good, then," he agreed. "I will do my best by listening to you."
After he had entered the cab, and had taken the seat, beside her, the young woman turned to look at him keenly.
Jack, for his part, saw that she was rather better dressed than the average. He imagined her to be the daughter of a family in comfortable circumstances.
"You do not know who I am, of course?" she began.
"No, madam."
"But you do know one in whom I am much interested," she continued.
For some reason that he could not explain to himself, Jack Benson began to feel very uncomfortable under the witching battery of her handsome eyes.
"Who is he?" inquired the submarine boy.
"You know him as—"
She paused, as though stricken with sudden reluctance.
"Well?"
"The name by which you know him is Millard."
Had Jack Benson been lashed at that instant with a whip he could not have been more astounded.
"Who?" he cried. "What? That in fam—"
He checked himself abruptly.
"It was kind of you to stop as you did," the young woman declared, gratefully. "The man whom you know as Millard is my promised husband."
"I'm sor—I mean, I'm astonished," sputtered Jack Benson.
Then he turned to take another keen look into her face.
"What do you want to say to me about Millard?" he demanded.
"I ask you—I beg you—to aid him to escape from Washington—from the country. Yet, to do that, all he needs is to get safely out of the District of Columbia. You know that he is here in Washington, or I would not have told you as much."
"Does Millard find it so very difficult to get out of Washington?" queried Jack, grimly.
"If he did not, Mr. Benson, believe me I would never come to the enemy to beseech mercy. Probably I am not telling you anything you do not already know," she went on, rather bitterly. "But every avenue of escape from Washington is blocked by Secret Service men. It is not so difficult to hide in the city, but to get out of it is impossible—to-day."
"Madam," Jack answered, softly, "it would be my desire to give you every bit of aid and comfort possible. However, what you ask is simply impossible. For one thing, it would be in direct defiance of my—"
"Oath" he was about to add, but checked him self. On account of their knowing that he was to be sought at the United Service Club it was possible—even likely—that the enemy knew of his actual connection with the Navy. Yet, Benson did not propose to supply the other side with any gratis information. So he added:
"Contrary to my duty as an American. I am loyal to the Flag, madam," the boy continued. "Do you know the nature of Millard's offense?"
"No-o-o-o; that is, not exactly."
"Do you wish me to tell you?"
"Why—he—he—told me it was some dispute over international affairs," stammered the young woman.
"Do you feel yourself a loyal American?" asked Jack, looking at her curiously.
"Yes!" she answered, without an instant's hesitation, looking straight into his eyes, almost defiantly.
"And you love this man, Millard?"
"Yes!" Yet her declaration was not so emphatic as it would have been a few moments before.
Jack Benson sighed.
"Would you love a man who had betrayed his country's flag?" he asked, presently, in a very low voice.
"Has Don—has the man you know as Millard offered to do that?"
It was not suspicion, but incredulity that rang in her voice.
Jack Benson knew, now, that he was dealing with a woman who knew herself to be a patriot—a lover of her country.
"I don't know that I have any right to say anything," Jack answered, evasively. "Mr. Millard is a civil engineer, isn't he?"
"Yes, and a mechanical engineer, too," the girl admitted, without attempt at concealment "As you also doubtless know, he served, once, with a revolutionary army in Guatemala. It is in some sort of scrape like this that he finds him self now. Some trouble that he has gotten himself into with this government in order to befriend the revolutionists of some Central American republic."
"Did Millard tell you so?" demanded Jack Benson, his eyes now very wide open.
"He let me believe as much," the girl replied, one hand toying with a fold of her dress, while she glanced down. "And that is the truth, is it not?"
"No!" broke, half-angrily, from young Benson. The passion would have rung in his denial, but he remembered that he was talking to this girl about her betrothed husband.
"You spoke of the Flag a moment ago," cried the girl, suddenly, and gazing searchingly into the boy's eyes. "Do you mean to tell me that Don—that Mr. Millard would be engaged in any work hostile to his own country?"
"Is the one we call Millard an American citizen?" asked Benson.
"Yes."
"Then—"
Jack came to an abrupt stop after that one word. He would not tell the dreadful news to this spirited young woman. It was not necessary.
But she became insistent
"Mr. Benson," she cried, "this has gone too far not to have a full explanation. Has—has Mr. Millard done aught to betray the United States? For that matter, how could he?"
"Madam," Benson replied, gravely, "no Central American republic would want charts of our fortified harbors, or notes concerning the fortifications, the harbor mines, and so on, for the very simple reason that no Central American republic would ever be equal to the task of attempting to invade the United States."
"Did Mr. Millard steal such plans—make such notes?"
She hissed the question sharply, her face now deathly white.
"That is the charge against him," Jack nodded.
"Did he do it?"
"I caught him at it, opposite Fort Craven," young Benson answered.
A low, smothered cry escaped the girl. Her head rested against the side of the carriage as though her brain were reeling. But at length she spoke.
"You—you would not deceive me," she faltered. "Yet tell me more."
"I can't;" answered Jack, with a shake of his head. "Further than that, I cannot go."
"Oh, I see," she nodded, "and I do not blame you. You feel that, whatever you told me, I would tell him. But I wouldn't!"
Though the girl's face was still fearfully pallid, her eyes, as she turned to gaze into the submarine boy's face, flashed with a new fire.
Then, after a brief pause:
"Whatever he is, or has done, I am an American," she added, quietly.
"This has been a miserable fifteen minutes for me." responded Jack Benson. "I have been torn between the impulse to mind my own business, and the fear that you may be throwing yourself away on a man whom you would promptly learn to despise."
"I shall never give Donald Graves another thought as a lover," the girl rejoined, promptly. "Nor shall I shelter him. I am going to him now!"
"Then you have an appointment with him? You know where to find him?"
"Yes," replied the girl, looking at the submarine boy rather queerly. "Do you care to go with me to meet Donald Graves—the one you knew as Millard? But I am stupid, or worse. That would be to run you into needless danger—for such a man as I now know Donald Graves to be would be desperate."
"I am not afraid of him," retorted Jack quietly. "If you fear only for me, I beg you to take me to him!"
"It is a somewhat lonely place, on the outskirts of the city," warned the girl. "Mr. Graves had thought that, if no other chance offered, he might possibly get away by leaving that house and taking to the country roads. For he knows that, if he takes a train at any point, he won't ride five miles before he'll find himself in the clutches of a Secret Service man. Oh, he knows how well the trains and the steamboats will be watched. He dreads, even, that the country roads will be watched."
"I don't know anything about the Secret Service lines that are out," Jack confessed, honestly. "Yet I imagine that every possible precaution has been taken to capture Millard—or Graves."
"You do not know my name," cried the girl, as though struck by a sudden thought. "Mr. Benson, you have been wrapped in so much mystery, so much deceit, so much lying and treachery that I won't even have you guess whether I am telling you the truth. Here is my card-case. Take out a card for yourself."
The request was so much like a command that Benson obeyed. On the card, in Old English script, he read:
"Miss Daisy Huston."
"I thank you, Miss Huston," he acknowledged, gravely, handing back her card-case.
"Will you signal the driver to stop?" she requested. They were now driving through the western part of Washington.
When the driver found himself signaled he reined up, then came to the cab door.
"You know where to go?" she said.
"Yes," nodded the man.
"Drive there, then."
The driver whipped up his horses to a better speed, the vehicle bowling along now.
"I very much fear that I am running you into danger," declared Daisy Huston, soberly. "Mr. Benson, if you decide to leave the cab, or to have me take you back to the center of the city, I shall not imagine you to be lacking in courage."
"I cannot be in any greater danger than you are, Miss Huston," Benson ventured, with a smile.
"Oh, it is much different in my case," argued the girl. "Donald Graves would not attack a woman, especially the woman he had professed to love."
"Miss Huston, do you feel like discussing this matter any further?" hazarded the young acting naval lieutenant.
"Yes; as much as you wish."
"I confess to being a bit curious."
"About what?"
"Did Millard—Graves, I mean, have any great reason to need money?More, I mean, than he could earn by honest work?"
"Yes," admitted Miss Daisy. "My mother is dead. Under her will I inherit a considerable little fortune when I am twenty-five. But it is solely on condition that I have my father's permission to marry the man of my choice. I could remain single until twenty-five, but I am only nineteen, and Mr. Graves complained that it would be an eternity to wait."
"Then your father did not approve Millard? I am going to call him that because the other name is unfamiliar."
"My father feared that Donald was a fortune hunter. He said he would be satisfied if Donald could show that he were rich in his own name."
"So, then, Graves, or Millard, hit upon the plan of stealing our harbor fortification secrets and selling them to another government," said Jack, meditatingly. "Yet I am puzzled to understand how he found the chance. There are no foreigners openly engaged in buying our national secrets."
"I think I can explain all that, though it will be but guess-work," replied Daisy Huston, thoughtfully. "My father was for some years minister to Sweden. He is still well acquainted among foreign diplomats here in Washington. Some of them are often at our house. Donald must have met one there who tempted him, or pointed the way to a fortune. Yes; I am certain that must be the answer."
"Did—but perhaps you don't like my asking such questions?"
"No; I do not mind—now," replied Daisy Huston. "I began to feel as though I had been an innocent party to Donald Graves's wrongdoing. When I went to try to see you, this afternoon, I supposed only that Donald had gotten into trouble through some filibustering expedition to Central America. I did not look upon that as so serious, you see. But selling the national secrets is quite another matter," she added, bitterly. "I shall never care for the man again. I have wrenched him from my heart in these last few minutes. So you may ask me any questions that will help to clear up the matter."
"Thank you, Miss Huston. Then did Graves, or Millard, as I call him, express any hope of becoming suddenly well to do?"
"Yes; and now I can understand how he has lied to me. He let me believe that he hoped to profit through mining concessions to Americans that would follow the overthrow of one of the petty despots in Central America."
"Yet Millard has been away from Washington much, has he not?"
"Most of the time during the last four months. He generally managed to get over here for one day out of the seven; sometimes two days at a time."
"I believe the whole matter is becoming rather clear in my mind. I do not mind telling you, Miss Huston, how I first came to know the fellow. He was over at our shipyard in Dunhaven, trying to get employment on the construction of submarine boats. But something in his manner made us suspect him, and he didn't get near the secrets of any of our boats."
There was one other thing, however, that Benson felt he would like to have cleared up. So he inquired:
"How did you know that I was at the United Service Club? Did Millard know? Did he tell you to go there?"
"He guessed where you might be. He asked me to drive to the club first; if you were not there, then I was to drive to the Arlington. Failing to find you at either place, I was to go back to the hotel in the evening. In the event of my finding you at the hotel I was to see you in the ladies' parlor. But, oh! What can you think of me, Mr. Benson, to have come to you on such an errand—on a mission to save a betrayer of his Flag?"
"You came innocently, Miss Huston; that is all that I can understand. And your whole attitude, since you discovered the truth, has been that of a loyal American girl who would crush her heart, even, for her country's honor."
"It isn't going to be as hard as you think, perhaps," she smiled, bitterly, "to cast the man out of my heart. The man that I now know Donald Graves to be never was in my heart. There is no room, there, for a traitor."
She glanced out of the cab at the scene through which they were passing.Jack Benson looked at the same time.
"I am terribly uneasy," she confessed. "Perhaps, even now, Mr. Benson, you had much better leave this carriage and let me go forward alone. I am a woman, and therefore safe. But I fear—yes, actually fear for your life when he finds out!"
"Don't be at all uneasy about me, Miss Huston," begged Jack, with cool confidence. "I have had rather a sturdy training in the art of taking care of myself."
Though he did not allow the girl to see the motion, Jack felt stealthily at his right hip pocket. Yes; the loaded revolver was there. Jack did not believe much in the practice of carrying concealed weapons. He had great contempt both for the nerve and the judgment of fool boys who carried revolvers, loaded or otherwise. But just now the situation was different. Jack Benson was an acting lieutenant in the United States Navy. Just before leaving the Navy Department he and his comrades had each been advised to take a proffered weapon and carry it against the chance that they might find Millard—or Graves—in Washington, and find themselves under the necessity of taking him prisoner.
"Spies and traitors are taken alive or dead," the official had remarked who had handed them the weapons.
"How much further have we to go?" Jack inquired, as the cab turned down a country lane.
"Only a very short distance, now," replied Daisy Huston.
"Jove, but she's a stunning girl for nerve and principle," thought Lieutenant Jack, admiringly. "She's going, now, to what must be the tragedy of her plans and hopes, yet she has her color back again, and looks as composed as though out only for an airing!"
"There is the house," almost whispered the girl, at last, resting a steady, cool hand on his arm.
Jack looked and saw the place—a little, oldfashioned house, standing in among trees, some hundred feet from the road. In that swift glance he also noted that there were no ether buildings near.
Daisy Huston did not ask whether the young man at her side proposed to try to arrest the man he sought. She was too discreet to pry into his plans.
Up into the little yard before the house the horses trotted. Then, just as the cab was coming to a stop, the driver cracked his whip-lash twice.
Immediately the door flew open. Millard, as Jack Benson knew him, stepped out jauntily, a smile of delight on his face.
"Good enough, Daisy," he cried, as he strode toward the cab. "I see that you have won Benson over to our side. He shall be my friend, after this. But, Daisy,what—"
For the girl had sprung lightly out ere Jack Benson could assist her. The girl now stood, drawn to her full height, yet without affecting any theatrical pose. But over her lips hovered a smile of cool disdain that the look in her eyes heightened.
"Don't lie to me any more, Donald Graves," commanded the girl, steadily, "and don't deceive yourself. Both tasks, I know, will be hard for a man so vile that he'd sell his country's Flag!"
Millard stared at her in growing horror. Then anger rushed to his face.
"Daisy!" he gasped. "Have you betrayed me? Have you brought Benson here as an enemy?"
Daisy did not answer her former lover. She continued to gaze at him with an irony of expression that sent the hot blood mounting to his head.
"Can't you speak?" he demanded. "Then, Benson, why don't you talk?"
"Because," replied Jack, "I am waiting for Miss Huston to say to you all, or as little, as she cares to say."
"Speak, then!" commanded Millard, turning imperiously to the girl.
"And my command to you," retorted the girl, "is different. Silence!Never again address me, you traitor to your Flag!"
Millard was swift to realize the fullness of the girl's contempt. He knew that everything between them was over.
"Come, come, then, girl!" he uttered, harshly. "It is time for you to be gone! Step to the cab and get away from here, for I would spare you what is to follow—my reckoning with Benson!"
He clapped his hands. The door opened, and four men stepped out. Their type was not hard to determine. They were of the scum of humanity—ready for any desperate deed.
"Come, girl, you must go!" commanded Millard, harshly.
"I will not," she replied, coldly, "until my escort is ready to go with me."
"He will not go with you," replied Millard, significantly. "And you must not remain. What is to be done here is no thing for a dainty woman to see."
"Mr. Benson," appealed the girl, "will you enter the cab first?"
"If he does, the cab will not leave," sneered Millard.
All this while the four men who had just come from the house were stealthily grouping themselves. Jack watched them alertly. He did not intend to be taken unawares, yet he hesitated to draw his pistol while Miss Huston was there.
"Go, girl!" Millard ordered again.
"I have told you, already, that I shall go only when Mr. Benson gives the word and accompanies me," replied the girl, white but courageous.
"Then we won't waste more time," laughed the wretch, harshly. "Since you will stay, then you must be a witness of what you have brought on my worst foe! Close in, men—get him!"
As the men sprang to obey, and Jack dodged nimbly back, Daisy Huston uttered a piercing scream. The next thing she did was wholly natural. Under the intense strain of her feelings the girl fainted.
"Take her!" nodded Millard, to the driver, who was plainly one of the desperate lot. "Take her from here as fast as you can."
The driver, ready for his work, snatched up the girl's light form.
"Have a care what you do—all of you!" cried Jack Benson, warningly, and now, in his hand, the revolver gleamed.
But one of the wretches, darting in at Jack's right, from behind, aimed a blow with a cudgel at the weapon. He struck it from the young lieutenant's hand.
Down to the ground it fell, but Lieutenant Benson was as quick as thought, now.
He bent over, snatching up the weapon, then ducked away from a follow-up blow at his own head, and sprang back.
"You first, then, Millard!" cried the young acting naval officer.
Full of purpose, Lieutenant Jack pressed the trigger. It stuck. No report followed. That blow from the cudgel had jammed the cylinder.
Having dropped the senseless form of Daisy Huston in the cab the driver sprang to the box, lashing the horses, just as Lieutenant Benson discovered the uselessness of his weapon as a firearm.
Then, indeed, young Benson knew that this must be a fight to the very death. Yet he was a naval officer at heart, as much as by special appointment. At a time like this he held life cheaply.
The first man to get within reach was laid flat by a blow with the butt of Jack's revolver.
Instantly young Benson wheeled, to strike at another pressing foe. Instead, he received a glancing though painful blow on his own left shoulder. Ere the assailant could recover, however, Benson leaped at him and would have felled him had not Millard himself leaped in, striking up the young naval officer's arm.
Once more Lieutenant Jack leaped back. His whole body was alert, nerves and muscles responding magnificently. He fairly vibrated defense.
"Close in on him, men—surround him!" snarled Millard. "You've got to get him! We haven't many minutes left. We don't know at what instant to look for interference."
Jack landed effectively on another of the rascals. Just as he was wheeling, however, to ward off the attack of another, a stick landed against his left knee, partly crippling him.
In moving backward Benson almost stumbled over a stone half the size of his head.
Right there, in the same movement with which he thrust the revolver into one of his pockets, he bent down, snatched up the heavy stone, and held it poised over his head.
"Now, come on! Now, close in!" cried Jack Benson, exulting. "The first man who gets too close has his head split open! Who wants it?"
His usually, good-humored face was transformed by the fiery rage of battle.
Surely there was some of the old Norseman streak left in Jack Benson's make-up.
As he stood there, keenly alert, ready to heave the rock, he looked like a young Thor armed with massive stone hammer.
"Spread! Get in back of him!" yelled Millard, hoarsely. "I'll take the position of attack in front. Down him!"
"Guess which way I'm going to heave this stone!" cried Jack, tauntingly, as he half wheeled, so as to watch those trying to steal a march in his rear.
"Bosh! You can soon stop that, men!" jeered Millard, suddenly. "Fall back and get a fistful of stones. Rain them in on the youngster at a safe distance. One of you will soon hit him and send him down!"
Young Benson gasped inwardly with dismay, though his face did not blanch. Millard's followers drew back to obey.
Yes! These fellows could throw small stones from a much greater distance than the young lieutenant could hurl the large one. They had but to keep up this fire for a few seconds when one of them was certain to hit him in the head, putting him out of the fight.
Jack Benson dropped the big stone, though he stood over it. Like a flash his revolver came out again. Aiming at Millard, the young naval officer made frantic efforts to make the cylinder revolve. But the weapon proved to be hopelessly jammed.
"Now, keep on volleying the youngster with until you have him down and wholly out!" yelled Millard, hoarsely.
The air seemed filled with stones. Jack hopped about as nimbly as possible, dodging all he could. Yet one part of his body after another was hit.
Rat-a-tat-tat! Jack hardly comprehended what this new noise meant when it grew in volume. Then a horseman rode into the yard at a charge.
"One down!" yelled the rider, with savage glee, as he drove his mount squarely against one of the wretches, bowling him over and underfoot.
Hardly seeming to veer, the rider made for another fellow, and barely missed him.
Just a second later, so it seemed, this valiant rider hauled the horse on its haunches, and swung back, heading for another wretch.
Millard leaped at the horseman, a stone in his uplifted fist.
But Jack Benson saw him, and a well-planted blow sent Millard to the ground.
"Bully good of you, Benson, old chap!" called a hearty voice. Then the horseman spurred forward, running down another of Benson's late assailants. The two remaining bolted as fast as they could, go.
"Mr. Abercrombie!" cried Lieutenant Jack.
"Yes, it's I: and jolly glad I got here in good time," laughed the British naval officer, whom this brief rollicking battle had made as gleeful as a boy.
"But how on earth did you happen to turn up?" asked Jack, a feeling of mystery coming over him after he had glanced at Millard and had made sure that the latter would "sleep" for some time to come.
"Why, I was out for my afternoon canter, dear old fellow," bubbled Lieutenant Abercrombie, R.N. "I was coming down the road at a hard trot, don't you know, when a cab rolled by. A young woman—and a deuced pretty one—thrust her head out and shrieked at me. What could I do? It was deuced extraordinary, and I had to do something quickly, so I rode alongside the cab and told the driver to hold up. I must have looked unusually menacing, don't you know, for, by Jove, the fellow obeyed me. Then I reached up and yanked him down off the cab. The fellow really started to blackguard me, while the young woman was shouting something at me at the same time I had to silence the fellow, don't you know, so I could understand the young lady. So I struck him over the head with the butt of my riding whip. My word, I must have hit the blackguard hard, for he just curled up and lay down. The young lady sprang out of the cab and begged me to hurry down here. She looked able to take care of herself, so I just left my revolver with her, and, by Jove, here I am—and deuced glad of it. Upon my word, Benson, dear old fellow, all the luck seemed to be running against you."
"It was," Jack admitted, dryly. "But now I've got the man I came after.I've got to keep him, too," added Lieutenant Benson, gravely.
As he spoke, the submarine boy drew a pair of handcuffs from an inner pocket.
"By Jove, do naval youngsters in this country carry such jewelry?" murmured Lieutenant Abercrombie, R.N.
"They do, I guess, when they're engaged on work like mine at present," smiled Lieutenant Jack, United States Navy.
"Now, then, by Jove, I think I'd better go back to the young lady," suddenly decided Abercrombie, for Millard still showed no signs of recovering his senses. One of the other two men who had been ridden down now recovered enough to begin to crawl away furtively.
"Do you want that chap?" asked Abercrombie.
"I have no facilities for keeping him a prisoner," Jack answered."For that matter, I guess he's nothing but a hired tough. TheWashington police can find and take care of him at their convenience."
"Good enough," nodded the British lieutenant. "And now—"
"Would you mind if I go to her, instead?" inquired Benson, hastily.
"Not in the least, dear old fellow. And, while you're gone, I'll constitute myself a special 'bobby' to look after this chap of yours in the bracelets."
So Jack hurried off up the road, wondering how Daisy Huston fared with a revolver and a hostile cabman.
The cab horses were browsing quietly by the roadside.
Miss Daisy looked anything but perturbed.
In fact, she had passed all uneasiness of spirit on to the cab driver. That worthy had come back to his senses, but Miss Huston had compelled him to sit on the ground, his back to a tree. She stood a few yards away, watching the surly fellow and holding the pistol as though it were not the first time she had had such a weapon in her hand.
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come, Mr. Benson!" cried the girl, with true feminine relief. "I was so worried about you. But you're not hurt—badly. I hurried a horseman on to you. He reached you?"
"Yes, thank you," nodded Lieutenant Benson. "And now, Miss Huston, I must inform you that we have Millard—your Donald Graves—a prisoner and manacled. I must first find a way of getting you back into town. Then I must turn Millard over to the authorities."
"Why can't he go back in the same cab with me?" asked Miss Huston, quickly.
"You—could you endure that?"
"Yes," replied the girl, bravely. "I took you to him. I sent the assistance that enabled you to take him prisoner. Do not fear for me, Mr. Benson."
"By Jove, but you're clear grit, Miss Huston!" Lieutenant Jack cried, admiringly.
"Clear American, I hope," retorted the girl. "Why should men be the only ones who can do or dare for the Flag?"
"Will you let me have the revolver, Miss Huston?"
"Gladly."
"Thank you. Now, if you will get inside he cab again."
"And you?"
"I'll sit with the driver and watch him,"
Jack kept his eye on the surly fellow until Miss Huston was inside the cab.
"Now, fellow, you get up on the box, and handle the reins from the left side," ordered the young naval officer.
"I always drive on the right side o' the box," came the sulky retort.
"Undoubtedly; but you're driving on the left side this afternoon," returned Benson, with a look of significance. "By the way, did I mention the fact, yet, that I have an uncertain and bad temper? Now, climb up into your place, and don't you attempt to start until I'm beside you and give the word!"
A moment later Jack Benson sat beside the driver, holding the revolver in his right hand.
"Now, back to the house," spoke the young naval officer.
Without a word the driver turned his horses about, heading back.
"Here we are!" came, cheerily, from Lieutenant Abercrombie, R.N.
Millard was sitting up, a black scowl on his face as Jack and the others appeared.
"Now, I've got to get this outfit back into Washington, somehow," mused Jack, after noticing that Abercrombie had allowed the other thug to crawl away to safety.
"Why, of course, dear old fellow, you under stand that I'm helping," hinted the British officer.
"That's mighty good of you," murmured Jack. "Then we can do it easily."
Daisy Huston had stepped from the cab. She stood regarding the scowling captive.
"I'm glad I know you, Donald; glad I found you out in time," she said, quietly, gazing hard at him.
"I thought you a friend," Millard retorted, bitterly. "Great Heavens, Daisy, if you had been on my side through thick and thin, in good report and ill, I could have defied all these idiots in Washington. What an ally you would have been! But you chose to be an enemy."
"An enemy to my country's enemies, yes," replied the girl, steadily.
"Do you hate me, Daisy?"
"I don't know," the girl answered, thoughtfully. "Do you hate me, now,Donald Graves?"
"I wish I knew," uttered the man. "But it's hard to turn love like mine into hate at a moment's notice. Daisy, the nights are coming when you'll wake up with a frightened start, and sob as you remember how you turned me over to—"
"To the officers of the country that you have done your best to betray," broke in the girl, firmly. "No, no, Donald! Do not imagine that I shall shed any tears for you, seen or unseen. Mr. Benson, I am ready, if you wish to place—your—your—prisoner in the cab beside me."
"It seems like a beastly outrage to do it," muttered Jack, full of misgivings.
"Not at all," declared the girl, steadily. "I am glad to see this man on his way to the bar of justice."
Jack assisted Daisy Huston, with the utmost deference, to a seat inside the vehicle. Then he turned to motion to handcuffed Millard—or Graves—that he was to take the seat beside the woman he had hoped to make his wife.
"I'll ride close alongside, to make sure there's no unpleasant conduct toward Miss Huston," volunteered Mr. Abercrombie.
Jack Benson again climbed to the cab box.
"You know I have the pistol," muttered Jack, showing the driver the weapon. "There's no need to ride through the town with the weapon in my hand. But, if you try to cut up any tantrums, you may be sure you'll find your own wrists inside of handcuffs."
"I know when I ain't got no show at all," growled the sullen driver.
"Drive ahead, then—into Washington, and straight to police headquarters."
Lieutenant Abercrombie, R.N., jogged his own mount steadily alongside, so that he could at all times command a view of the interior.
Millard—Donald Graves—would have opened some conversation withDaisy Huston, but the disdainful girl cut him short.
As the cab rolled into the busier streets of Washington Lieutenant Abercrombie drew a little further away from the cab, in order not to attract attention, though he still remained actively on guard.
The prisoner's manacled hands did not show to the people passing on the sidewalks.
So, altogether, no passersby thought to turn to look after the cab.
Just as the little procession turned a street corner to drive direct to the door of police headquarters, Abercrombie waved a hand carelessly to three pedestrians on the sidewalk.
"Abercrombie!" cried Lieutenant Ulwin. "And there's Benson on the box of that hack!"
"Come right along into headquarters," whispered Abercrombie. "Don't make any noise."
Wondering until they were fairly agape, Ulwin, Hal and Eph drew up at the cab door as Jack, after only a brief nod to them, opened the door and handed out Miss Daisy Huston.
Lieutenant Abercrombie, having given his horse to a boy down the street to hold, now came forward, raising his hat, to take charge of the young lady.
"Come along, Millard," called Jack Benson, quietly, and the prisoner got out, while the British officer stepped down the street with his fair companion to find another carriage in which she could return home.
Inside Jack marched his prisoner up to the railing in one of the rooms. The young naval officer at once produced his credentials and displayed them to the police official in charge.
"Now, with your permission, sir," Jack went on, courteously, "I will use your telephone, and inform the Navy Department of the prisoner who awaits their action here."
Five minutes later this had been done. Benson turned to LieutenantAbercrombie, saying:
"I must apologize for not having thought to return your revolver as soon as we entered."
"I would beg you to keep the weapon, dear old fellow, if it would be of any use to you," replied the British officer.
And now Hal and Eph found chance to explain that they, worried by Jack Benson's disappearance, had at last started down to headquarters to see if they could learn of any mishap to him, or of any other explanation for his long absence.
"Well, it's all over now," muttered Hal. "Millard—or Graves—or whatever other name the fellow may be using at this moment—is safe in a cell downstairs."
"We thought, once before, that we had him bottled up safely," chuckled Lieutenant Jack. "Mr. Abercrombie, how am I ever going to express my thanks to you?"
"I should feel extremely insulted, dear old fellow, if you thought it necessary to thank me," retorted the Briton, heartily.
"It will be dark, soon," interposed Lieutenant Ulwin. "I suggest that the best thing any of us can do is to turn toward the club. I feel certain that the chef will have a famous dinner there to-night."
"We haven't any evening clothes, either citizen or uniform, in Washington," interposed Jack Benson, who knew something of the formalities of the service during the dinner hour.
"Come, just the same," begged Ulwin. "The members don't expect too much of fellows who are traveling."
Jack was glad of the walk, because it helped to take the stiffness out of the knee that had been struck.
"You let the cab driver go, did you!" asked Eph, as the submarine boys walked along together.
"Yes," nodded Jack. "I had no orders concerning anyone like him. He's only some worthless character hired for the job. He didn't have any hand in the bigger job of collecting and selling harbor defense plans, you may be sure."
As the party re-entered the club they found a large attendance. Nor was it many moments before a be-moustached German officer approached the group.
"Oh, Herr Ulwin," he asked, "can you oblige me by excusing Herr Benson for a moment or two? And will you come with me, Herr Benson, to meet a friend who wishes to shake your hand?"
Jack slipped away with the German officer, who conducted him to another room.
"I think you have met my friend before," explained the German, and wheeled the submarine boy straight up in front of Herr Professor Radberg.
"You see," smiled the professor, "we meet again."
"It is a great pleasure, surely," declared Jack, as he shook hands. The officer stepped a few paces away.
"And now, when, my dear young friend, are you going to give me your word that you and your comrades will enter the German torpedo service? I have somewhat better terms to offer you than when we last met. I have since been authorized to promise you that you shall enter the German service as commissioned officers, and that you shall all three be in line for promotion as merit earns it. So, then, it is all settled, is it not!"
Herr Professor Radberg rubbed his hands with a self-satisfied air.
"Yes," Lieutenant Jack admitted, "it is all settled. But not the way that you would wish, Herr Professor Radberg. There may be soldiers of fortune who follow any flag, for hire. But we submarine boys would not enter your German naval service if you created all three of us high admirals at the outset."
"Admirals?" cried Herr Professor Radberg, protestingly. "Oh, but that, my dear young friend, would be quite impossible."
"You are wasting your time with us, sir," Jack continued, firmly. "We may, one of these days, be asked to enter the American service permanently. We would not enter any other country's service, no matter what the bait. Do not give the matter any further thought, please, for we won't."
The German officer had been standing a few paces away, twirling his moustache and frowning. Now, he came forward.
"Herr Benson," he broke in, "I fear that you are so young that you do not fully understand the honor and dignity of being officers in the German service."
"Very likely we do not, Captain," Jack returned, with a bow. "And it is absolutely certain that we shall never find out from experience."
Lieutenant Jack excused himself, turning to seek his friends. As Benson entered the reading room once more he came upon Eph and another whose face was decidedly familiar. It was the Chevalier d'Ouray.
"Just in time, Jack," nodded Eph. "Tell the Chev. for me, please as he doesn't seem to understand my talk, that we wouldn't even give the slightest consideration to his idea that we should enter the French naval service in the submarine division."
"It is quite hopeless, Chevalier," laughed Jack Benson, shaking his head. "The honor is quite enough to turn our heads, but we can serve only the United States."
The Chevalier d'Ouray made a low bow, then turned away, for others were approaching.
"Where is Hal?" asked Jack.
"Crickety! Look at him over there, talking to that little Japanese," muttered Eph, inclining his head toward a corner.
Hal and a Japanese were talking earnestly. At any rate, the little brown man was. Hal was listening, occasionally shaking his head. Then Hastings happened to espy his chums. He turned to the Japanese, to take his leave, but the little brown man followed him across the floor, still talking in low tones.
"Captain Nakasura has been trying to interest me in the idea that we three go over to Japan, under a three years' contract, to act as instructors and advisers in submarine work," Hal told his comrades.
"And I have high hope that you will see matter same as I do," smiled the Japanese attache persistently.
"We shan't," Jack declared, shaking his head, emphatically. "Captain, you are the third, representing also the third nation, that has just approached us on this matter. We shall serve no other country than our own."
"But my government," urged the Japanese officer, "will make you most handsome offer."
"Do you remember the day when we were leaving Dunhaven, and you tried to overtake us in a gasoline launch?" asked Jack, with a smile.
"Yes; very well," admitted Nakasura.
"Do you remember that we hoisted the signal, N.D.? That meant 'nothing doing,' Captain. Our answer is the same, and will be, to-morrow and the next year."
"Ah, here you are!" cried Lieutenant Abercrombie, as he hurried up and Captain Nakasura vanished beyond middle distance. "Benson, dear old fellow, I want just a word with you before dinner is served," continued the Briton, thrusting his arm through Jack's and drawing him away after a nod of apology to Hal and Eph. "Benson, I've had something on my mind all day; something I have had instructions to broach to you. I have been waiting for the right moment. Now, I must breathe just a word or two, and then let you think it over during dinner, don't you know?"
"See here," smiled Jack, standing back, sudden suspicion in his eyes."Don't tell me you've been instructed to see whether I'll enter theBritish submarine service."
"Just that, dear old chap!" beamed Abercrombie, enthusiastically. "But how could you guess? Fact, though! And not only you, but Hastings and Somers as well, don't you know!"
"You're the fourth to spring this on us tonight," answered Jack Benson, soberly. "And the answer will have to be the same for all of you."
"The same for all of us, dear chap?" demanded Abercrombie. "How can that be?"
"The answer in every case is the same," retorted Jack. "If our own government doesn't want us, no other government can have us. We stand by our own Flag."
"Eh? What is this?" muttered Lieutenant Ulwin, coming unexpectedly upon the pair. "Foreign government competing for you lads, Benson? This won't do!"
"Which is what I have just had the honor of telling Mr. Abercrombie," smiled Jack, earnestly.
Secretary Sanders, Secretary of the Navy, looked up at the three young men who stood in line at the right-hand side of his desk.
It was two days later; two days during which Jack, Hal and Eph had hadlittle to do except roam about Washington and see all the sights of theNational Capital. This they had varied by dropping in at the UnitedService Club.
"Gentlemen," remarked the Secretary of the Navy, "you have not yet been relieved of your detail to the gunboat 'Sudbury.'"
"It's coming now," thought each of the three boys to himself, with a great wave of dismay. "We are to be no longer of the Navy."
"I will give instructions at once," continued Secretary Sanders, "to have orders issued relieving you from that duty."
"Yes; it has come," muttered Jack, drearily, to himself. "Our service with the Navy is over."
"Gentlemen," and now, for a few seconds, the voice of the Secretary seemed far away indeed, "I am sensible of all you have done for your country, and above all, of the zeal you have shown. Besides, I have in mind the fact that you have made yourselves among the most expert of all handlers of submarine torpedo boats. If it can be arranged, I wish to keep all three of you actively in the United States Navy."
Jack Benson looked up with a gasp. His comrades were not less astounded.
"I am aware," Mr. Sanders went on, "that we could not expect you to enlist as mere apprentices. In your own particular field of submarine work you are amply fitted to hold officers' commissions. Yet, under the law, you cannot be granted commissions until you are twenty-one years of age. None of you are quite eighteen.
"Therefore, it has occurred to me that you can be appointed, specially, with rank, command and pay, until you are twenty-one. The President agrees with me in what I have to offer. You, Mr. Benson, are offered a special appointment as lieutenant, junior grade, in the United States Navy. You, Mr. Hastings, and you, Mr. Somers, are offered special appointments as ensigns. You will all have the privileges of your ranks except the actual commissions. Yet you will be actual officers, and entitled to full respect. Moreover, the President promises that, when you are twenty-one years of age, you shall have regular commissions promptly. In case the President is not re-elected to his office, he agrees to urge upon his successor in the White House the fulfilment of the promise. So, if you accept the special appointments, now, you are absolutely certain of commissions as soon as you reach the age of twenty-one. Perhaps it is only just to add that we are aware that all three of you have already been offered commissions in foreign navies, and that you have refused. Both the President and myself appreciate your loyalty to your own Flag. Now, what do you young gentlemen say to accepting special appointments to run until you are each twenty-one?"
"Mr. Secretary, it's the brightest, the one great dream with us all," Jack Benson replied, hoarsely. "There is just one thing that could hold us back. We really feel in honor bound to Mr. Farnum and Mr. Pollard to stand by their interests, for they have been our best friends."
"What do you say to that, Mr. Farnum?" inquired the Secretary.
From behind a screen stepped Jacob Farnum, the Dunhaven shipbuilder.
"Why, see here, boys," began Farnum, a broad smile on his face, "I received a long wire from Mr. Sanders yesterday. Dave Pollard and I talked this thing over, and we decided that the Pollard boat is now an assured success. You have put the boats where we can now build and run them without you. You are more needed in the Navy. Now, Dave and I both urge you to go where we know your hearts are—into the Navy. And you will go with all our best wishes. The government needs you, now, to handle the boats that we build up at Dunhaven, and to train war-crews for those boats. There is only one objection to your entering the Navy, boys. You will have to pass upon our boats. We know you will do that honestly and fearlessly; yet there are many who would sneer at having boats passed on for the government by young officers who hold stock in our concern. Now, the amount of stock that each of you holds has been growing steadily with each new success that you have won for us, which if you enter the Navy you should not own. So Dave and I offer you ten thousand dollars each for the shares that you hold. It is a fair valuation."
"I know it is, if you offer it, Mr. Farnum," Jack Benson replied, with feeling.
"Then you'll accept, and take your very heart's-wish—the Navy—all of you?" asked Mr. Farnum.
"I accept both your offer, Mr. Farnum, and, the greater offer of theSecretary of the Navy," replied Jack, his eyes becoming misty.
"I accept," murmured Hal.
"So do I," from Eph.
"Then, sir," declared Jacob Farnum, turning to the Secretary of theNavy, "the Flag is richer by three magnificent young followers!"
* * * * * * * * * *
Here we must leave the submarine boys for the present, for these events happened hardly later than yesterday, and there are no new adventures yet to chronicle.
Donald Graves—Millard—received a severe sentence in the penitentiary. He is still serving the sentence, of course. Gray, his accomplice, who attempted to spirit the drawings outside of the United States, is now likewise serving a term.
The trial was a swift, nearly secret one. Daisy Huston was not dragged into the case at all. In one respect the trial failed. Neither culprit could be forced to tell for which foreign government the dastardly work had been attempted. The "Spitfire" returned to Dunhaven, and was later sold to the government, with several other boats. Williamson became the new Pollard captain.
Several foreign governments were deeply disappointed over not being able to secure the services of the submarine boys.
But Jack, Hal and Eph could be happy nowhere except under their own Flag.
They are now accepted most cordially by all their brother officers, young and old, in the United States Navy.
For the most part, so far, the duties of our young officers have been aboard the different boats purchased from the Pollard Company. Yet, for the sake of practice and change, they have been, at times, detailed aboard other classes of craft in the Navy.
We shall now encounter our young acting naval officers in one of their new fields of special work, in the next volume of this series, which is published under the title: "The Submarine Boys And the Smugglers; Or, Breaking Up the New Jersey Customs Frauds." Here we shall find our talented lads engaged in doing some of their finest work for Uncle Sam's Government, and under circumstances that will delight every reader.