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.
CHAPTER X
M. LEMAIRE PROVES HIS TRAINING
"You insult me!" screamed M. Lemaire, halting right under the face of
Captain Jack Benson, who looked at him undaunted.
"I didn't," denied Jack. "I let you do that yourself. My
congratulations, sir.
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