"DOG, WHO IS YOUR MASTER?"
Seeing Jack and the young Russian woman so interested in their talk, the
others had gradually strolled away from them.
Hennessy had already succeeded in securing an invitation to return to
Spruce Beach in Mr. Farnum's hired auto.
Hal Hastings presently turned, as though to step over to Mlle. Nadiboff's
car, but he caught a swift look from Jack, and turned back. Hal had not
yet heard of the grave suspicion against the young woman, and could not
guess what this move of his chum's meant. Hastings, however, was swift
to take the hint.
"You have not overstated your friend's intelligence," murmured the young
Russian gleefully. "At a short look from you he retreats."
"Oh, Hal and I always understand each other," smiled Jack.
"That is very interesting. And yet I do not like Mr. Hastings as I
like you," replied the young woman.
She looked at him with a friendly, little flash in her eyes. Had Jack
been a few years older, and not warned, he might have been snared by
this experienced flirt. As it was, he did not take the trouble to
answer her last little speech.
Just before they stepped into the car Mlle. Nadiboff uttered a few quick
words, in some foreign tongue, to her man at the steering wheel. The
auto sped away. Jack noted only, at first, that they were now going
further from Spruce Beach. The road down which they drove, however,
was a beautiful one, and the submarine boy did not much mind where they
went, provided he could find out how Mlle. Nadiboff meant to make the
approach against his loyalty to the submarine company.
"Do you know, my Captain, that you are hardly a flattering escort?"
began Mlle. Nadiboff, after they had whirled along for a mile or more.
"Why not?" Jack inquired, bluntly.
"Have you noticed how I seem to please most men?"
"I saw that several were very anxious dance with you last evening, and
that, whenever you were seated, men flocked about your chair."
"Why do you suppose they did that?" challenged Mlle. Nadiboff.
"Because you are a very handsome woman, and the men admired you," Benson
answered, plainly.
"Ah! Then you think I am handsome?"
"I haven't a doubt of it," Jack answered.
"Do you admire me?"
The challenge came plain and direct. Mlle. Nadiboff now gazed
searchingly into the submarine boy's eyes.
"I--I think you a very handsome woman to look at," Captain Jack
admitted, readily.
"Is that all you have to say?"
"I--I am afraid I do not understand you, Mademoiselle."
"You have no desire to be especially gallant to me? It would cause you
no jealousy if you, saw that I preferred the company of other men?"
Jack Benson returned her glance, almost in, bewilderment for a moment.
Then he leaned back, trying to stifle the impulse to laugh, but he did
not wholly succeed.
"You are amused?" cried the young Russian, half angry.
"Amused--yes, at the idea of my falling in love, if that was what you
meant to suggest," replied Jack, again speaking very candidly.
"And why should that amuse you, my Captain?"
"Why, do you know how old I am, Mlle. Nadiboff? Or rather, how young?
I am only sixteen. At my age, if I formed any notion of being in love,
it would be sensible to have me spanked and put on a short diet for a
few days."
He laughed merrily, now, and Mlle. Nadiboff turned away her head to
conceal the tears of vexation that started to her eyes.
"Bah!" she thought to herself. "I have been wasting time--at Lemaire's
orders. The only way to induce this boy to betray his trust will be
by offering him presents of marbles, tops, kites--bah! _Bah!_"
Mlle. Nadiboff settled back in her seat, looking straight ahead, her
attitude as frigid as could be. For some moments she did not attempt
to speak. When she did open her lips she said, icily:
"I find that I have been wasting my time."
"Wasting your time, Mademoiselle?" echoed Jack Benson, coolly, for he
was much more fully alive to the situation, thanks to Mr Graham, than
she had any chance to know. "May I ask what you have been trying to
do?"
The question made the young woman bite her lip. Mlle. Nadiboff had been
a spy quite as long as Mr. Graham had stated. As she looked back over
the years she was able to recall man after man whom she had flattered
and lured by the witchery of her eyes. Secret after secret she had
coaxed from men entrusted with guarding such mysteries. The rewards of
the work had kept M. Lemaire and herself both bountifully supplied with
money by the foreign governments that they had served as spies. Most
men whom she had tried to win into her service the young Russian woman
had found easy enough victims. But now, here was a sixteen-year-old
boy laughing at her attempts at "cleverness."
"I was wrong to think Jack Benson a fool," she said to herself, angrily.
"He is far more clever than the men I have met. I can do nothing with
him. I must turn him over to Lemaire--to see if that prince of spies,
as he has often been called, can find the flaw in this submarine boy's
armor."
With that Mlle. Nadiboff leaned forward, murmuring a few words to the
chauffeur, who nodded slightly. Then the young woman leaned back,
turning a smiling, friendly but no longer coaxing face to Jack Benson.
"If I have amused you," she smiled, "I am glad. We will say that much
and forget the rest, eh, Captain Benson."
"I am glad to agree to anything that will please you," responded the boy,
gravely.
Mlle. Nadiboff shot a covert look at his face, then decided to say
nothing. She began to have a suspicion that this sixteen-year-old boy
was far more clever than she, despite all her years of strange
experiences.
A mile further along the automobile branched off the main road, running
down a shaded lane at much reduced speed.
"What is this--some short cut back to the beach?" asked Jack, trying
to conceal his astonishment.
"Yes," replied the young Russian, falsely.
Soon the big car stopped. The chauffeur thrust a whistle between his
lips, blowing a trilling blast.
Jack Benson changed color somewhat. This sounded suspicious--a signal
in the woods. It was doubly suspicious after the hints that Mr. Graham
had given the young submarine captain.
"Do not jump--do not be afraid," laughed Mlle. Nadiboff, rather
maliciously. "Nothing in the way of danger threatens."
Almost immediately the chug-chug of another auto was heard, just ahead
up the narrow road. Then into sight glided a small runabout, which sat
M. Lemaire, all by himself. That Frenchman stopped his car, next waving
one hand gayly to those in the larger car.
Then, lifting his hat most courteously to the young woman, M. Lemaire
stepped over to the other car. The Russian woman spoke in some tongue,
the like of which Benson had never heard before. It was Arabic, a
language that both of these spies understood perfectly. What she
said was:
"The boy is yours. Do what you can with him. I admit that I have
failed. I have no hope of being able to do anything with him."
M. Lemaire's eyebrows contracted briefly, in a slight frown. Then,
forcing a pleasant look to his face, the Frenchman asked, in a tone
easy enough with courtesy:
"Captain Benson, will you step out and talk with me a few moments? I
have much to say."
"I can listen," nodded Jack, looking steadily, shrewdly into the eyes
of this male spy. "At the same time, sir, this whole proceeding,
meeting, request and all are so unusual that I think you cannot do
better than to give me a frank explanation of what this all means."
"Means?" murmured the Frenchman, as though not comprehending.
"Yes," retorted Captain Jack Benson, disdaining to beat about the bush
for an instant. "If you pretend that you do not understand me, sir, I
shall feel obliged to have a poor idea of either your honesty or your
intelligence."
"Are you trying to insult me?" asked the Frenchman, a warning flash in
his eyes.
"Not at all," Jack answered, unhesitatingly. "I am asking you for a
direct statement. Why am I brought here in this fashion? What is
wanted of me?"
The young captain was now paying no attention to Mlle. Nadiboff. She,
finding herself not needed in the talk, had slipped out at the other
side of the car, and was now strolling slowly some yards away.
"Won't you step out, Captain Benson, so we an walk and talk this matter
over?" again insisted the Frenchman.
"Then you have something to say that you don't think quite proper for
the chauffeur to hear?" demanded Benson, almost mockingly.
"Oh, our good Gaston is all right," laughed the Frenchman, nodding at
the chauffeur.
"The chauffeur, then, is one of the crowd--all spies," flashed through
Jack's vengeful mind. "I might have guessed it. And this crowd have
me a long way from my friends."
"You are not afraid to step down to the ground, Captain Benson?" asked
the male spy, half mockingly.
"Afraid?" flushed Jack, springing down to the ground and confronting
M. Lemaire. "No; I am not afraid of a regiment like you!"
"I begin to imagine that you are a brave young man, Captain," assented
M. Lemaire, rather admiringly.
"Brave?" echoed Benson. "There's nothing here that calls for bravery,
is there?"
"No-o-o," smiled the Frenchman slowly. "Nothing, Captain, but the
courage to do and dare--and prosper."
"You speak like the puzzle page in a mail order magazine," laughed Jack
Benson, more easily. "Now, Monsieur, won't you oblige me by becoming
more definite?"
"What can I say, then?"
"Why, M. Lemaire, I always like to deal with people who are direct and
right to the point. You plainly have some kind of a scheme that you
are trying to put through with me. Won't you oblige me by coming
straight to the very point?"
"I shall be as direct as you can wish, Captain Benson," replied the
Frenchman, regaining his smile. "Let us stroll. Walking often helps
the flow of language."
Out of the corner of his eye Jack noted that, though Mlle. Nadiboff
refrained from joining them, she none the less hovered at no great
distance from them.
"Now, my young friend," began the Frenchman, after a pause of a few
moments, "you command the submarine boat, and you know all her secrets.
You are a draughtsman, to, no doubt?"
"A fair draughtsman," nodded Jack.
"You could draw us a model of the boat you command. You could make
drawings of all the important parts. You could supply us with
explanations."
"Just what sort of explanations?" Jack asked, coolly.
M. Lemaire shot a swift, sidelong glance at the submarine boy.
"How?" demanded the Frenchman. "You do not understand yet?"
"You promised, Monsieur, to be very exact and explicit. What do you
want?"
"Why, then, such drawings and such explanations that any skilled
shipbuilder, from the plans you furnish us, could build another boat
just like, and just as effective, as the boat you now command?"
"What do you want to do with such plans?" asked Benson.
"Why, would you care about that, if I pay you well enough?"
"Perhaps not," muttered Jack Benson. "Still, when I go into anything,
I like to know all about it."
"Well, then," cried M. Lemaire, gayly, "first of all, we will come to
the question of a fee to be paid you for your trouble. Such drawings
and such papers you could prepare for us in two or three days, could
you not?"
"I think that very likely," Jack admitted. He had thrust his hands
deep down into his trousers pockets, in order to restrain his very
natural impulse to spring at the Frenchman and rain blows in the latter's
face.
"Two or three days' work, let us say," continued M. Lemaire. "And, for
that we will pay you handsomely--ten thousand dollars in the best
money of your land!"
They halted, gazing at each other. For a few seconds Jack Benson did
not dare trust himself to utter a word. When he did speak, it was to
ask, calmly:
"M. Lemaire, who is your master?"
"My master?" repeated the Frenchman. "I do not understand you."
"Every dog, even a dirty one," thundered Captain Jack Benson, "has a
master! Who's yours?"
M. Lemaire's face became livid in an instant. His hands working
convulsively, he sprang at the young submarine captain.
Mlle. Nadiboff, snatching a riding whip from under her automobile coat,
turned and ran toward them. The chauffeur snatched up a wrench, leaping
out of the automobile.