A FRENCH RAT IN THE CORNER
As Mr. Farnum came around a bend in the veranda Jack hurried to him,
handing over the letters. Then he related the little scene he had just
witnessed in the office, and described how Mlle. Nadiboff had walked
out with him.
"So the little minx was hinting at more mischief to come, was she?"
demanded the shipbuilder. "Jack, I believe she's equal to it. Her
crowd are anyway, if it's true that Gaston, from his cell in jail, could
plan the attempt to blow the 'Benson' last night."
Hal, too, soon came up and heard. He turned anxious gaze upon his chum.
"Jack, old fellow," he pleaded, "I know you're not much given to being
afraid of things. But, at least, look out for yourself a bit. Be more
prudent than you usually are about yourself. That crowd of foreign
spies, having failed and having brought themselves into trouble, mean
to have revenge. Any of us are liable, but you'll be the shining
mark of all to be picked out."
"There can't be many more of that crowd left at large," laughed Jack,
lightly.
"I wonder why the Secret Service men don't arrest Lemaire and the
Nadiboff young woman?" asked Mr. Pollard, the last to rejoin the little
group.
"Trotter and Packwood must have some good reasons of their own," Jack
replied, thoughtfully. "For one thing, they hardly have any evidence
that they could use against the pair."
"They could at least drive them from Spruce Beach," retorted the inventor.
"Perhaps the Secret Service man are giving the pair enough rope for their
hanging," proposed Jack.
At that moment the two detectives were espied going past in a buggy.
They waved their hands to the party. Jack replied by a signal to halt.
He and Hal ran down to the road to speak to the detectives.
"If it's a fair question to ask," demanded Hal, "what are you going to
do with Lemaire and Mlle. Nadiboff?"
"To tell you the truth, we don't know," Trotter answered. "We haven't
anything we could very well fasten on them. But of this you may be
sure; our various moves are known to them, and they're on the
tenterhooks of anxiety wondering what's going to break loose next. More
than that, both are sharp enough to have guessed that it would be
impossible for either of them to get away from Spruce Beach, now, without
our leave. But we'll have to leave you, now, boys. You've been of so
much help to us that I don't mind telling you what we're up to at this
moment. We're driving back to jail, and we're going to try to put the
screws on Leroux and his Greek companion. If we can make 'em think
we've gained new evidence against 'em, they may get scared and begin
to talk. If they talk fast enough, they'll begin to tell some truth."
The buggy rolled along again.
"You didn't tell them a word about Mlle. Nadiboff's threats to you,"
muttered Hal.
"I didn't mean to," Jack replied, simply.
"Why not?"
"Well, for one thing, I couldn't swear that she did threaten me. She
may have meant it all for nonsense."
"Yes," mocked Hal Hastings. "That, would be just like her!"
The submarine not being due to go out that day, the chums decided to
remain on shore, in order to keep in touch with the march of events.
The day was so balmy that Mr. Farnum dropped into a chair on the porch,
Pollard occupying the chair next to him. Hal, buying a magazine at
the hotel news stand, sat on the edge of the porch, his feet touching
the ground. Jack, his mind too full of problems to permit him to
read, paced up and down the grounds. Finally he strolled, out past
the gate, crossed the road and began to stroll along the shingle of
bench.
Jacob Farnum removed his cigar from between his lips long enough to
remark:
"As long as the lad keeps in sight, Pollard, it will be worth our while
to keep an occasional eye on him."
"And when he goes out of sight--? asked the inventor, slowly.
"It will be high time to call him back. Somehow, Dave, I'm growing
uneasy over the boy. I can't help the feeling that he's running into
a good deal of danger that's likely to explode under him at any moment,
just as that mine was intended to last night."
"It makes one feel uncanny to be at Spruce Beach," growled the inventor,
savagely.
"Well, we can't run away," retorted Jacob Farnum, blandly.
"Why not, if we feel like it?"
The shipbuilder laughed.
"Why, Dave, a spirited lad like Jack Benson would be furious over
anything that looked like a retreat. He'd be savage. Now, Dave, we
can hardly afford to put such a slight on the boy who has had so much
to do with our success."
"I suppose not," grunted Mr. Pollard, settling back in his chair.
"The odd part of it," said Farnum, presently, "is, that while we're the
center of an international cyclone, so to speak, the rest of the folks
at Spruce Beach don't know a word about it. Look at the crowds of
folks around us who haven't even a breath of an idea of what has
happened, or is, likely to happen. Not a soul around here, except our
own few, have any idea that an attempt was made, last night, to blow up
that mysterious-looking little submarine craft riding at her moorings
out yonder."
"I wonder what the crowd would do, if it did know?" asked Pollard,
gazing out curiously over the throngs of pleasure-seekers. "That shows
what a dreamer you are, Dave, and how little you know of your own fellow
citizens. What would the crowd do? Why, it would change itself into
a mob. Mlle. Nadiboff would be hustled off out of town, Lemaire would
be lynched, or mighty close to it, and it would be strange if the mob
didn't march on the jail itself."
"Then it would never do to let the crowd know all that's happening,
would it?" asked Pollard.
Jack, from thinking over the problems that had come up in connection
with the spies, had at last let his attention wander to the crowds.
Down at the beach hundreds were taking an afternoon dip. Other hundreds
were strolling up and down the sands. Children were building sand
castles or houses. A good many small boats were out with pleasure
parties. Yet many, both grown-ups and children, looked positively
bored. They needed excitement.
"How near this crowd came to having something to talk about," muttered
young Benson to himself, with a smile. "If that mine had gone off
last night, no one at Spruce Beach would have felt dull to-day."
Finding that the afternoon air was making him dull and inclined to gape,
Captain Jack turned back from the beach. He sauntered along the road,
and was about to cross it, when he heard a sharp snap. It was like a
subdued shot.
In the same instant a hissing sound went _pseu_! in front of his face.
A distinct breeze, small though it was, fanned his eyes. Then chug!
Something landed in the trunk of the tree he was passing.
"That was a shot!" guessed the submarine boy, like a flash, and in the
next breath he muttered: "Aimed at me, too!"
Jack pitched forward, falling upon his face. If one shot had been
fired, another might be as soon as the unknown marksman realized that
he had missed.
Several people, near by, fancied they had heard a shot, and turned,
curiously. Then, as soon as Benson was espied lying on the ground a
rush was made in his direction.
At that moment Hal Hastings happened to be looking over toward the beach.
Like a flash he was up and away, his magazine falling from his lap to
the ground.
"Now, what on earth has taken Hastings off like that?" demanded Mr.
Farnum, looking around in surprise. "There are other people running,
too. Come along, Dave!"
Hal shot his way through the rapidly gathering crowd. He reached Jack
Benson just as the latter leaped up, laughing.
"Why all this excitement, just because I stubbed my toe against a
dew-drop and fell?" demanded Benson, laughing.
"Weren't you shot?" gasped Hal.
"If I was, I'll make the rascal prove it," asked back Captain Jack.
"But, now you mention it, I think the tree _was_ hit."
Jack turned and looked the tree trunk over at about the height of his
own head from the ground.
"See here," he remarked, laying a finger on a small perforation in the
bark, "I think a bullet, or something of the sort, went in here."
"We'll soon find out then," proposed Hal, whipping out his jack-knife,
opening a blade and beginning to dig. The crowd grew in size. Messrs.
Farnum and Pollard had great difficulty in forcing their way through.
After some time spent in patient work Hal dug out a steel-jacketed
bullet, short and of small calibre.
"You want to find the man with a weapon that bullet fits, and then make
it warm for him," advised one man in the front rank of the crowd.
"Why?" queried Captain Jack, coolly, examining the missile, then dropping
it carelessly into his pocket. "Some fellow fired an accidental shot,
very likely, and is at this moment the most scared man at Spruce Beach.
What's the use of jumping on anyone just because he had a moment of
carelessness?"
"That's right, young level-head!" nodded another man, approvingly.
Messrs. Farnum and Pollard hung back somewhat. They were near enough
to hear and see, and they had their instant suspicions. But the crowd
knew nothing of the spy outrages, and it was not necessary to inform
strangers.
So, within a few minutes the crowd broke up, straying off in quest of
something more interesting. The submarine party kept on up to the hotel
porch.
"That was a revengeful move, pure and simple," declared Jacob Farnum, in
a low voice.
"Of course," assented Jack. "It's going to be something of a task
though, to find out, for certain, just who fired that shot."
Even as the four stood there on the veranda a door opened, and M.
Lemaire, faultlessly attired for an afternoon stroll, stepped out.
"Ah, good afternoon, gentlemen," was his unconcerned greeting, as he
recognized the quartette.
This French spy had evidently dressed himself with a good deal of care.
He carried himself with much precision and lightly twirled a natty cane.
"Pardon me, monsieur," spoke Jack, stepping forward, and looking past
the Frenchman; "is that one of your friends down the road?"
As the Frenchman turned to look, young Benson swiftly and adroitly took
his cane from him.
Like a flash, his eyes full of fire, Lemaire heeled about, then leaped
at the young submarine captain.
But Hal Hastings stepped between them so neatly that the Frenchman
collided with him instead.
"Hold this fellow a moment, please," requested Captain Jack. "I've found
something interesting."
Hal Hastings grabbed Lemaire's right arm. Jacob Farnum instantly
possessed himself of the other. David Pollard sprang forward so that
he could take a hand, if need be.
Captain Jack stood holding the spy's walking stick, ferule end upward.
It was a rather long, slender-looking ferrule of steel. But what
interested young Benson most was that he had found that the ferrule
was hollow.
Quickly the submarine boy examined the rest of the cane.
"Release me! Hand that stick back to me!" hissed the Frenchman. "Oh,
some one shall pay for this unpardonable outrage!"
But Hal and Mr. Farnum only gripped the spy the more tightly.
"I believe I've found out something," announced Jack, in a low voice.
"Wait a second or two."
He had come upon a concealed spring near the head of the cane. Stepping
to the edge of the porch, the submarine boy pointed the ferrule end at
the ground, then pressed upon the spring.
A sharp, though not loud report followed, and a bullet plowed into the
ground. There was a flash at the end of the ferrule, though but a
barely perceptible amount of smoke.
"So, M. Lemaire, you carry a pistol cane, that uses smokeless powder
and shoots steel-jacketed bullets?" inquired Jack, turning to the
prisoner, who, white-faced, stood gnashing hi's teeth in helpless rage.
"I wonder if the bullet Hastings dug out of the tree trunk will be found
to fit this weapon?"
"You miser-r-r-rable dog!" screamed Lemaire. "Thief! Liar!"
"Oh, keep cool about it, do," urged Jack, smilingly.
"What's this?" demanded Trotter, suddenly appearing on the scene.
Packwood was just behind him.
Jack swiftly told what had happened, and what he had just discovered,
at the same time passing the cane to the Secret Service man.
"Lemaire, I guess you'd better come with us, for safe-keeping," advised
Trotter, dryly.
"You ar-r-rest me?" snarled the Frenchman.
"Oh, yes; if you insist upon a name for it."
M. Lemaire's face looked uglier than Jack had ever dreamed it possible
for a man's face to look. As Hal and Farnum let go his arms the spy
took a quick step toward Jack Benson.
"Stop that!" commanded Trotter, sharply, leaping to grab the spy.
"I only want to say one word to this young scamp!" hissed Lemaire.
"I will not hurt him."
"You can wager he won't," added Captain Jack, clenching his fists and
watching the other alertly. "Let him speak to me, if he wants."
Trotter thereupon halted, though he watched the Frenchman with lynx-like
wakefulness.
Lemaire, however, merely leaned forward until he had placed his lips
close to one of the young submarine captain's ears.
"See here," hissed the spy, "hold your tongue about everything, and
make sure Gaston and myself are released. Else, no corner of the earth
will be a safe place for you. You can find no place in the world where
you will be safe from destruction--unless you get us out of this one
bad fix!"