A CONSPIRACY IS RIPENING.
"That you, boys?"
The speaker emerged from a patch of gloomy looking bushes, masking an
old stone bridge.
"Yes, it's us all right, Herr Muller. On time, ain't we?"
It was Chance who spoke. Close behind came Merritt and another figure.
"Yes, you're on time, all right. But who's that with you? I don't want
outsiders mixed up in this."
Merritt came forward with the third member of the newly arrived party.
"This is Bill Kennell, an old chum of ours," he said. "He's all right,
and we may find him useful in our plans."
"Very well, if you'll vouch for him."
It was noticeable that all trace of accent had now vanished from Herr
Muller's tone. In fact, except for a very slight trace of foreign
pronunciation, impossible to reproduce, he spoke remarkably good
English.
"Oh, we'll vouch for him. And now to business," said Merritt, seating
himself on the coping of the bridge. "You said this afternoon that you,
as representative of the New York group of International Anarchists,
would pay us well to keep you in possession of the latest moves of the
United States navy."
"Yes, yes," responded the other eagerly, "we wish to know
all--everything--I am authorized to pay you well for such information."
"But why--why do you want it?" demanded Chance bluntly.
"I will tell you. We anarchists hate all law and order. We wish to be a
law to ourselves. All law is oppression. Such is our teaching. Navies
and armies represent power and help to keep law and order, therefore,
when the time comes, we wish"--he paused reflectively--"to destroy all
such tools of oppression."
Chance, calloused as he was, gasped.
"You mean you would dare to destroy or try to damage, the property of
the United States?" he gasped.
"I mean what I said, my young man."
"Oh, say, count us out, then. That's too much for me. Say, Merritt,
let's be getting back."
"Hold on a minute," snarled the masquerading photographer, changing in
an instant from a docile creature into an alert, dangerous martinet,
"you can't refuse to fall in with my plans now. If you do I shall crush
you. You are in my power now."
"Pooh!" scoffed Merritt. "How do you make that out?"
But, though he strove to make his tone easy, there was an under note of
anxiety in it.
"How do I make it out? In this way, my friends: If you are false
to your promises to me, I shall denounce you to the government
authorities. I have witnesses to all that you said this afternoon in my
room at the hotel. The man you thought was a waiter was in my employ,
and is an anarchist, like myself. That shabby little peddler who came
to sell some cheap jewelry was another of the same belief. They heard
all you said. Moreover, they saw you accept money from me----"
"But you told us that all you wanted us to do was to get those plans
from Ned Strong when he comes along this way from the lieutenant's
house to-night," gasped Chance.
"Yes; but I may have other uses for you. Rest assured that you are in
a web from which you cannot escape. If you try to play false to me, I
will have you sent to the place which Uncle Sam reserves for traitors
and spies."
"Oh, well," said Merritt slyly, "we may as well make the best of it.
Let's talk business. In the first place, did you bring the disguises?"
Herr Muller, as we must know him, rejoined in the affirmative. "I have
them in that old barn," he said.
"Very well. The time is getting along. We had better go up there and
assume them. By the way, have you any pistols for us? We couldn't
smuggle out our service revolvers."
"Pistols!" scoffed the other. "What do you want pistols for? Are there
not three of you against one? And I will be in reserve in case he
proves too much for you."
"Um, I know; that's all very well," muttered Chance, "but you don't
know this fellow Strong. He's as powerful as a bull, and will fight
like a wild-cat."
"But he's up against overpowering odds to-night," Merritt rejoined,
with regained confidence. "This is the time that Ned Strong, the
favored paragon of the navy, is going to get his--and get it good."
"You can bet he is," agreed Chance and Kennell, with clenched teeth.
"I've got a few scores to pay off on my own account," added the latter.
"Well, here are your disguises," said Herr Muller, striking a match and
indicating a bundle in one corner of the barn. Presently he produced a
pocket flash-lamp, and held it cautiously while Merritt and Chance, two
traitors to the United States, invested themselves in the rough-looking
garments he had provided. They were complete, even to false whiskers.
When they had attired themselves in the tattered clothes and adjusted
the remainder of their disguises, two more disreputable-looking
specimens of the genus tramp than Merritt and Chance presented could
not have been imagined.
"You'll do finely," declared Herr Muller, with deep satisfaction, when
the preparations were concluded. "I'd be scared of you myself, if I met
you on a dark road," he added, with peculiar humor.
"How about me?" asked Kennell. "That 'Dreadnought Boy,' as they call
him, knows me."
"Pshaw! that's so," said Herr Muller. "Well, see here," producing a
handkerchief, "tie this over the lower part of your face and you will
be well enough disguised."
"I reckon so," agreed Kennell, adopting the suggestion.
In the meantime, Ned had been practically the guest of honor at
Lieutenant De Free's quarters. Two or three other naval officers
were present, and they all displayed frank interest in the bright,
intelligent youth and his invention, which he explained at length.
"But, my dear De Frees," one of them--a young ensign named Tandy--had
declared, "you can say all you like about the aeroplane in warfare. In
efficiency it will never take the place of the submarine, for instance.
I'm willing to wager any amount that on any night that I held the deck,
an aeroplane, equipped with pontoons or anything else, could not, by
any possibility, approach within a hundred yards of my vessel."
"You really think so, Tandy?" queried Lieutenant De Frees
good-naturedly. "Well, I tell you what we will do: At some other time
we'll meet and talk it over. If you are still in the same mind, we will
draw up conditions for such a test. It should be interesting and of
great value theoretically."
"Yes," laughed Tandy, "it will demonstrate the fact that no aerial
craft could torpedo or blew up a war vessel at night without being
perceived in time. Therefore, what is the use of equipping the ships
with such craft? They take up valuable room and waste a lot of money
which would be better spent on guns and ordnance."
"I agree with you, Tandy," said Lieutenant Morrow, a veteran of many
years' service, "from my observation of aeroplanes, one could not
get within bomb-dropping or torpedo-aiming distance of a war vessel
at night. Why, the noise of their engines would alone betray their
nearness."
"But what if she glided up on pontoons?" smiled Lieutenant De Frees.
"The same thing would hold good," declared young Ensign Tandy, with a
confident air.
Of course, Ned, as a petty officer, could not take part in this
conversation, but it made a deep impression on him. After warm
good-nights from the officers, who really felt an admiration for this
clean-cut and self-respecting, although perfectly respectful young
sailor, Ned set out on his homeward way. In his breast-pocket--or
rather tucked inside his loose blouse--he carried the plans of his
invention.
It was quite dark, with the exception of a pallid light given out by
a sickly moon, that was every now and then obscured altogether by
hurrying clouds. Ned walked along quickly, at his usual swinging pace.
His thoughts were too much upon his invention for him to pay much
attention to his surroundings.
All at once, however, he stopped short and listened for an instant. But
not a sound, except the sighing of a light, night wind in the trees
that bordered the road, disturbed the stillness.
"Funny," mused Ned; "I could have been certain I saw a light flash by
that old bridge right ahead. I guess I'm seeing things, too, like
Herc."
So thinking, he struck once more into his regular pace. A few steps
brought him into a patch of velvety shadow caused by the thick-growing
shrubs and alders that edged the creek which the bridge spanned.
"What a spot for a hold-up!" thought the young man-o'-war's-man, when
he entered the blackness. As he did so, a sharp chill struck him. A
keen sense of impending danger caused him to swing sharply around.
It was well he had heeded his intuition, for, as he turned, a heavy
bludgeon whistled by his ear. It had been aimed for his head, but his
sudden and unexpected move had saved him.
For a breath, Ned stood rooted to the spot. Then his eyes blazed with
anger.
"Come on, you skulking thieves!" he cried in a high, clear voice, "I'm
ready for you!"