NED LEARNS SOMETHING
Ned Slade felt himself being pulled along the deck of the transport in
the firm grip of a man who, for the moment, he believed to be insane.
The quick grasp of the pepper-pot and his sudden motion in dragging
Ned along had, for the time being, deprived the lad of his power of
resistance. But it came back to him quickly enough, and, suspecting
some sinister design on the part of his captor, he braced himself,
pulled his hands away, and demanded:
“What does this mean? What are you trying to do, anyhow? Isn’t it
enough for you to have disabled this ship, and so, indirectly, have
caused the collision, without trying anything more?”
“Don’t speak so loudly! Come with me! To my cabin! I can explain
everything!” hoarsely whispered the little man, variously dubbed the
pepper-pot, from his quick, impulsive way, and “_le cochon_,” a name
given by Marie, the restaurant girl.
“Not much!” cried Ned. “I see your game! You want to get rid of me
as, perhaps by accident, you got rid of Bob, Jerry, and Professor
Snodgrass!”
“Ah! Professor Snodgrass! He--he is impossible! A mere dabbler! A
charlatan!” cried the other, with something of his former manner. “I
alone hold the secret! I shall give it to the world! Now that he is
gone, I can work freely and openly. I will redouble my efforts! I will
beat him!” His voice was triumphant.
“Yes, beat him, coward, now that he’s gone!” cried Ned. “I don’t want
to have anything to do with you! I’m going to tell----”
Ned swung aside and was going to turn back to avoid what he thought was
a lunge on the part of the strange man, a lunge that, the lad thought,
meant danger, when he collided with some one hurrying along the passage.
There were many mutual grunts, for the impact had not been a gentle
one, and, half dazed, Ned looked up to observe Captain Munson.
“Oh!” exclaimed Ned.
“What is the trouble?” asked the captain, and he smiled at Ned and the
little man--smiled in such a way as to convince the Motor Boy that
either there was nothing wrong, or else that the captain himself was
deceived as to the character of his passenger.
“There is no trouble at all, Captain,” replied the pepper-pot. “Now
that my rival has gone, I----”
“You mean Professor Snodgrass,” the captain said. “Yes, unfortunately
he is gone. We hope he and the others may have saved themselves, and
perhaps have floated off on some bit of wreckage our boats did not
observe, but it hardly seems possible. I suppose you do not need a
guard any longer?” he smilingly asked of the little man.
“No, thank you, my secret is in no further danger of being taken away
by an unscrupulous charlatan!” was the emphatic answer.
And Ned, puzzled, observed with amazement Captain Munson deliberately
winking at him the eye that was concealed from the pepper-pot.
“Captain Munson!” exclaimed Ned, “this--this man is trying to----”
The pepper-pot interrupted.
“I can now tell everything!” he said eagerly. “Please let me explain to
him, Captain. I was taking him to my cabin to let him understand the
whole situation, when he broke away from me and----”
“If you wish to listen to Dr. Hallet’s story I am sure you would find
it interesting, to say the least,” broke in the commander. “Of course
don’t go with him if you don’t want to, but in view of what has taken
place perhaps it will be best to let him tell his side of it. If you
wish any further light you may come to me. I will give orders to have
the marines withdrawn from in front of your cabin, Dr. Hallet,” he
added.
“Do you mean to say--I mean is everything all right? Isn’t there any
danger----” began Ned. And then as he looked at the little man, and
compared his own splendid physique with that of _le cochon_, he felt
just a little bit ashamed of the exhibition he had made. Certainly
he was sure he could hold his own in a struggle, though there was no
denying that the pepper-pot--or Dr. Hallet, to give him his right
name--had a powerful grip.
“You may safely go with Dr. Hallet,” said the captain. “I am sorry
there has been any misunderstanding. I would have explained before,
but so many things have happened, it seemed impossible. As I say, if
you are not satisfied with what he tells you, come to me,” and having
nodded to Ned, with whom he had talked several times following the
fatal crash, the commander passed on.
“Now are you satisfied?” asked the little man, and, somehow, in the
light of the events of the last few moments, his face seemed more
friendly to Ned.
“Well, I don’t in the least understand what it’s all about,” admitted
Ned. “You acted so queerly in the restaurant, and then on board the
transport; and so much has happened--my friends being missing and all
that--you can’t blame me for----”
“Not in the least, my dear boy! Not in the least!” was the suave
answer. “If you will come to my cabin I can explain everything to your
satisfaction. But first let me ask: You do not seriously believe that
I caused the collision with the derelict and the disappearance of your
friends, do you?”
Ned thought for a minute. Clearly he could answer in but one way. In
spite of what the captain had said, this man might be guilty of having
caused the disablement of the _Sherman_. And so, indirectly, he might
be responsible for what happened to her afterward. But to accuse him of
having caused Jerry, Bob, the professor and others to fall overboard,
even though such accident was the direct result of the collision, was
going a little too far. Ned had to admit this. At least it could not be
called premeditated, for Dr. Hallet could not have known the derelict
was going to drift past.
And so, after hastily thinking the matter over, Ned came to the
conclusion that he might better accompany the little man to his cabin,
and hear what he had to say.
“But I’ll be on my guard,” mused Ned. “He’s got a grip that’s hard to
break. Must have been quite an athlete in his youth. But I’ve got an
automatic, and I sha’n’t hesitate to use it if I have to.”
Ned slipped a hand to his hip pocket where he was carrying a small
but very effective weapon he had bought in Paris. “It might come in
useful,” he reflected.
“I’ll come with you,” he said to Dr. Hallet, “but I warn you I’m not
very much prepossessed in your favor, and----”
“I will explain everything, my dear boy,” declared his companion. “And
then, if you wish to hold enmity against me---- But come to my cabin.
We are likely to be disturbed here.”
This was true enough. Officers and soldiers were constantly passing
along the “alley” of the ship, and Ned was kept busy saluting, while
several of his acquaintances, coming back from their mess, looked
curiously at him and his companion.
To the very same cabin in front of which two marines had been on guard
and within which Ned and his chums had once seen Professor Snodgrass,
Dr. Hallet now led the Motor Boy. And it needed but a single glance
around it to disclose to Ned one fact, at least.
This was that Dr. Hallet was a rival of Professor Snodgrass--or, if not
a rival, then a scientist engaged in the same pursuits.
For there were the same sort of specimen boxes, microscopes, notebooks,
and other materials scattered about as always marked the abiding place
of Professor Snodgrass. There were even live bugs crawling in cases,
and Ned recognized one or two as exactly similar to some he had helped
Professor Snodgrass catch at different times.
“Now if you will sit down, my boy, I’ll begin to explain,” said Dr.
Hallet. “It will take some little time, but I am sure at the end you
will have a different feeling toward me.”
“I may, but I’m going to be perfectly frank, and tell you I have my
doubts!” declared Ned. “You can start explaining whenever you are
ready,” and he let his hand swing around behind him as he took a seat,
making sure that his pistol was within ready reach.
“In the first place,” began Dr. Hallet, “I want to say that I---- Oh, I
nearly forgot! I haven’t fed my fleas!”
Ned nearly laughed aloud, this was so like what Professor Snodgrass
might have said. Dr. Hallet quickly arose, and, going over to a tiny
green box, opened the top and sprinkled something in. He then quickly
closed the receptacle.
“Have to be sharp with fleas,” he said. “These have bitten persons
afflicted with trench fever and mustard gas poisoning, and I am
going to make a test to see if those diseases are capable of being
transmitted by the bite of insects. I don’t want any of these infected
fleas to get on you.”
“I don’t want it, myself,” murmured Ned, as he moved somewhat away from
the little green box.
“Well, now that I have given them food enough to last until we land,
I hope, I will go on,” resumed the doctor. “As I was going to say,
you are much mistaken if you think that Professor Snodgrass and I are
enemies.”
Ned started.
“Well,” he said slowly, “if you are a friend of his you take a very
queer way of showing it.”
“Professional feeling, my dear boy! Professional feeling; that’s all.
Call it jealousy, if you like,” said Dr. Hallet, with something like a
chuckle. “As a matter of fact, both he and I are working along the same
lines to benefit humanity, and if I said anything harsh against him----”
“Which you certainly did!” interrupted Ned.
“Well, it was in a Pickwickian sense only--merely Pickwickian,” and
this time the doctor laughed. “You have read Dickens, I dare say?” he
went on.
“Yes,” admitted Ned. “I know my Pickwick Papers.”
“Then you’ll understand. As a matter of fact, Professor Snodgrass is
my very dear friend, and we are mutually, though perhaps in a rival
manner, seeking the same certain end.”
“Well, if you are,” asked Ned in amazement, “why did you act so? Why
did you call him a ‘charlatan’? And why were you put under guard? And
did you try to blow up the transport with a bomb? If you did----”
Ned’s words died away, for at that moment the _Sherman_ was shaken from
stem to stern by a violent concussion, and after a period of portentous
silence confused shouting broke out all over the ship.
Ned looked strangely at Dr. Hallet and drew his automatic pistol.