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.
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