THE STARTLER AT MONTE CARLO
The frowning crags of Monaco confronted the United States battleship
"Hudson."
Here and there the rocky eminences were broken by tiny strips of white
beach. In comparison with the crags the great, floating fighting
machine looked like a pigmy, indeed.
It was toward evening, and the day was Tuesday. Darrin and Dalzell,
both off duty for the time being, strolled along the battleship's
quarter-deck, gazing shoreward.
"It's almost too bad that the times are so civilized," murmured Danny
Grin. "That little toy principality would make an ideal pirates'
nest."
"I fancy Monaco has done duty enough in that line in the past
centuries," smiled Darrin. "I have been reading up a bit on the
history of Monaco. Piracy flourished here as late as the fourteenth
century. Even rather late in the eighteenth century every ship passing
close to this port had to pay toll. And to-day, through its vast
gambling establishments, visited by thousands every week, Monaco
reaches out and still takes its toll from all the world."
"It won't take any from me," smiled Dalzell.
"That is because you're a disciplined human being, and you've too much
character and honesty to gamble," Darrin went on. "But think, with a
pitying sigh, of the thousands of poor wretches who journey to Monaco,
enter the Casino at Monte Carlo, part with their money and their
honor, and then pass into one of the gardens, there to blow their
brains out.
"We shall get a glimpse of the place to-night," Dave continued. "I
will admit that I have a good deal of curiosity to see it. So I am
glad that we have shore leave effective after dinner. Still, we shan't
see anything like the crowd or the picture that we might see if Europe
were at peace."
"This is Tuesday night," Dan warned his chum.
"Yes; the night to avoid dangerous questions at mess," Dave smiled.
"Dan, are you still going to try to catch Barnes?"
"Watch me," winked Dalzell.
"Look out, Dan! Such a trap may be set at both ends."
But Dalzell winked once more, then allowed his mouth to expand in that
contortion which had won him the nick name of "Danny Grin."
Dave soon forgot Dalzell's threat of trouble for the evening. It had
passed out of his mind by the time that Ensign Darrin entered the
ward-room. Yet soon after the officers had seated themselves the
executive officer announced:
"In the interest of fair play to all I deem it best to warn you,
gentlemen, that to-night is the night when the first gentleman who
asks a question that he cannot himself answer is liable to a penalty
of thirty-three dollars to make up the deficit in the mess treasury."
There were nods and grins, and shakings of heads. Not an officer
present had any idea that _he_ could be caught and made to pay the
penalty.
As the meal progressed Lieutenant Commander Wales finally turned to
one of the Filipino waiters and inquired:
"Is there any of the rare roast beef left?"
"Don't you know yourself, Wales?" demanded Totten quickly.
"Why, er--no-o," admitted Mr. Wales, looking much puzzled. "Why should
I?"
"Then haven't you asked a question that you can't answer?" demanded
Totten mischievously.
"That's hardly a fair catch, is it?" demanded the navigating officer,
looking annoyed.
"It is not a fair catch," broke in the executive officer incisively.
"Any gentleman here has a perfect right to ask the waiter questions
about the food supply without taking chances of being subjected to a
penalty."
"I bow to the decision, sir," replied Lieutenant Totten. "I merely
wished to have the question settled."
Some of those present breathed more easily; others yet dreaded to
become victims of a penalty proposition that many now regretted having
voted for.
As the dessert came on Dan Dalzell turned to Dave.
"Darrin," he said, "can you tell me why it is that a woodchuck never
leaves any dirt heaped up around the edge of his hole?"
Dave reflected, looking puzzled for a moment. Then he shook his head
as he answered:
"Dalzell, I'm afraid I don't know why."
"Of course _you_ know why, Dalzell," broke in Lieutenant Barnes
warningly.
"Perhaps I do know," Dan replied, nodding his head slowly. "However,
perhaps some other gentleman would like the chance of answering the
question."
Instantly a dozen at least of the officers became interested in
answering the question. To each reply or guess, however, Dalzell shook
his head.
"If everyone who wants it has had a try at the answer," suggested the
executive officer, "then we will call upon Mr. Dalzell to inform us
why a woodchuck, in digging his hole, leaves no dirt piled up around
the entrance."
There was silence while Dan replied easily:
"It's perfectly simple. Instead of beginning at the surface of the
ground and digging downward, the woodchuck begins at the bottom of the
hole and digs up toward the light and air."
As Dalzell offered this explanation he faced Lieutenant Barnes, who
was eying him scoffingly.
When Dan had finished his explanation there was a puzzled silence for
an instant. But Dan's half-leer irritated Lieutenant Barnes. Then came
the explosion.
"Shaw!" snorted Barnes. "That's an explanation that doesn't explain
anything. It's a fool answer. How does the woodchuck, if he digs up
from the bottom of the hole, ever manage to get to the bottom of the
hole to make his start there?"
"Oh, well," answered Dan slowly, "that's your question, Mr. Barnes."
"My question?" retorted the lieutenant. "What do you mean?"
"If I understand aright," Dan went on, "you asked how the woodchuck
manages to get to the bottom of the hole before he begins to dig."
"That's right," nodded the lieutenant, stiffly.
"That's just the idea," Dan grinned. "I am calling upon you to answer
the question that you just asked. You must tell us how the woodchuck
manages to get to the bottom of the hole in order to start digging
upward."
It required perhaps two seconds for the joke to dawn on the other
officers at the long mess table. Then an explosion of laughter
sounded, and every eye was turned toward Lieutenant Barnes.
"That isn't fair!" roared the lieutenant, leaping to his feet. "That
was a trap! It wasn't a fair catch."
Barnes's face was very red. His voice quivered with indignation.
But Dan Dalzell was smiling coolly as he retorted:
"I'll leave it to the mess if Barnes hasn't asked a question that he
can't answer."
"You're caught, Barnes!" roared half a dozen voices, and more laughter
followed.
"You asked a question, Barnes, and you can't answer it," came from
others.
"That thirty-three dollars will come in handy," called another.
"Pay up like a man, Barnes."
"That's right. Pay up! You're caught."
The lieutenant's face grew redder, but he sat down and tried to
control his wrath.
"It doesn't seem like a fairly incurred penalty," declared Barnes, as
soon as he could make himself heard, "but of course I'll abide by the
decision of the mess."
"Then I move," suggested Wales, "that we leave the question to a
committee of three to decide whether Mr. Barnes has been properly
caught in the fine that he himself was the one to propose. For
committee I would suggest the executive officer, the paymaster and the
chaplain."
Informally that suggestion was quickly adopted. The three officers
named withdrew to a corner of the ward-room, where they conversed in
low tones, after which they returned to their seats.
"Gentlemen," announced the executive officer, "the committee has
discussed the problem submitted to it, and the members of the
committee are unanimously agreed that Mr. Barnes fairly and fully
incurred the penalty that he himself suggested the other morning."
Barnes snorted, but was quick to recover sufficiently to bow in the
direction of the executive officer.
"Then I accept the decision, sir," announced the lieutenant huskily.
"At the close of the meal I will pay thirty-three dollars into the
mess treasury."
Barnes tried to look comfortable, but he refused to glance in the
direction of Danny Grin.
"Did I catch him?" whispered Dalzell to his chum.
"You did," Dave agreed quickly. "Barnes must feel pretty sore over
the way his plan turned out."
There was much laughter during the rest of the meal, and Barnes had to
stand for much chaffing, which he bore with a somewhat sullen look. As
the officers rose none offered to leave the ward-room. All stood by
waiting to see Barnes hand thirty-three dollars to the paymaster.
"Here is the money," announced Barnes, handing a little wad of bills
to the paymaster.
"Count it, Pay!" piped a voice from the rear of the crowd, but it was
not Dan who spoke.
Lieutenant Barnes had the grace to leave the ward-room without
stamping, but in the nearest passageway he encountered Ensigns Darrin
and Dalzell.
"I suppose you are chuckling over the way I dropped right into your
trap," snapped Barnes to Dan. "But do you call it a fair kind of
trap?"
"What was the committee's decision on the subject?" inquired Dan,
softly.
"Oh, I'll admit that the decision went against me," answered the
lieutenant, scowling. "How will you like it if I promise to pay you
back fully for that trick? Are you willing that I should?"
"If your mind is set on paying me back," Danny Grin responded, "then
my willingness would have very little to do with your conduct. But I
am willing to make you a promise, sir."
"What is that?" asked the lieutenant, quite testily.
"If you attempt to pay me back, sir, and succeed, I'll agree to take
my medicine with an appearance of greater good humor than you
displayed a few minutes ago."
"Huh!" sniffed Mr. Barnes.
"Danny boy," broke in Dave, "I don't want to spoil a pleasant
conversation, but I would like to remind you that, if we are to make
much of our evening ashore, we shall do well to change to 'cits' at
once. The launch leaves the side in fifteen minutes."
"You'll excuse me, won't you, sir?" begged Dalzell, favoring the
lieutenant with an extremely pleasant smile.
The chums went to their respective cabins, where they quickly made the
change from uniform to citizen's dress, commonly called "cits."
Promptly the launch left the "Hudson's" side, but both young ensigns
were aboard. At least a dozen other officers and a score of seamen
were also aboard the launch, which was to return for forty more seamen
who held the coveted shore leave.
Yet the reader is not to suppose that either officers or men were
going ashore with any notion of gambling. An American naval officer,
with his status of "officer and gentleman," would risk a severe
rebuke from his commanding officer if he were to seat himself to play
in any gambling resort. As for the enlisted men, the "jackies," they
are not of the same piece of cloth as the jovial, carousing seamen of
the old-time Navy. The "jackies" of to-day are nearly all extremely
youthful; they are clean-cut, able, ambitious young fellows, much more
inclined to study than to waste their time in improper resorts.
So, while most of the officers and men now going ashore were likely to
drop in at the Casino, for the sake of seeing the sights there, it was
not in the least to be feared that any would engage in the gambling
games.
When the launch landed in the little harbor, drivers of automobiles
and carriages clamored for fares.
"Are we going to ride up to the Casino?" Dan asked his chum.
"If you'd rather," Dave assented. "But, unless you feel tired, let us
stroll along and see every bit of the way."
"These natives are all jabbering French," complained Dalzell, as the
chums set out to walk over the steep, well-worn roads, "but it isn't
the kind of French we were taught at Annapolis."
"Can't you understand them?" asked Dave.
"Hardly a word."
"If you have to talk with any of the natives," Dave advised, "speak
your French slowly, and ask the person you're addressing to do the
same."
Though the way was steep, it was not a long road. Dave and Dan soon
reached the upper, rocky plain, edged by cliffs, on which the Casino
and some of the hotels and other buildings stand.
"If it weren't for the gambling," murmured Dan to his friend, "I'd
call this a beautiful enough spot to live and die in."
"As it is, a good many men and women manage to die here," Darrin
returned gravely.
The Casino was surrounded by beautiful gardens, in which were many
rare tropical trees and shrubs. From the Casino came the sound of
orchestral music. Throngs moved about on the verandas; couples or
little groups strolled through the gardens. Inside, the play had
hardly begun. Gambling does not reach its frantic height until
midnight.
"We shall feel out of place," mused Dave aloud. "Dan, we really should
have known better than to come here in anything but evening dress. You
see that every one else is in full regalia."
"Perhaps we'd better keep on the edge of the crowd," responded Danny
Grin. "There is enough to be seen here, for one evening, without
entering the Casino."
Though Dave intended to enter the Casino later, he decided, for the
present, to take in the full beauty of the night in the gardens. There
were electric lights everywhere, which outshone the brilliance of the
moon.
"Hello!" whispered Dan, suddenly. "There's an old friend of ours."
"Who?"
"Mr. Green Hat," Dan whispered impressively.
Instantly Dave Darrin became intensely interested, though he had no
intimation of what this second meeting portended. That Mr. Green Hat
was destined to play a highly tragic role in his life, Darrin, of
course, had no inkling at that moment.
"There he is!" whispered Dalzell, pointing, as the chums stood
screened by a flowering bush.
"We'll watch that rascal!" Dave proposed promptly. "I wonder if he has
followed the 'Hudson' here with a view to attempting more mischief
against our Government. Whatever his game is, I am going to take a
peep at the inside of it if a chance comes my way!"