"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!"
CHAPTER XXII
GALLANT, EVEN TO THE FOE!
"You may have him now," announced Captain Jack, ironically. "I reckon
he has spoken his piece."
Trotter's answer was to leap upon the Frenchman, pinioning his arms
behind him. Packwood snapped handcuffs over the prisoner's wrists.
"Here is the bullet that Hastings dug out of the tree--the one that
was probably fired at me," added Captain Jack. "And here is M. Lemaire's
cane-pistol. You can see whether the bullet fits the cane."
Trotter took them, with a swift, admiring look at Benson's cool, handsome
face.
Then, guiding their prisoner, the Secret Service men moved off hastily,
for two or three hundred beach walkers had just discovered that something
exciting had happened, and were hurrying forward.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202