The Submarine Boys and the Spies | Page 8

been done before.
Captain Benson is the latest wonder in the submarine line."
"He has a very steady admirer in you, hasn't he?" inquired one of the
newspaper men, laughingly..
"Yes; and the same is true of anyone else who knows him well,"
declared Eph, warmly. "Jack Benson is about the best fellow on
earth--and one of the smartest, too, his comrades think."
Thereupon one of the newspaper correspondents began tactfully to
draw out young Somers about the history and past performances of the
young submarine captain. On this subject Somers talked as freely as
they could want.
"It was Benson, too, who discovered the trick of leaving a submarine
boat on the bottom, and coming to the top by himself, wasn't it?" slyly
asked one of the visitors.
"That was his discovery," nodded Eph, promptly.

"What's the principle of the trick?"
Eph's jaws snapped with a slight noise. He remained silent, for a few
moments, before he replied:
"So far, that trick is known only to the Pollard people and a few
officers of the Navy. The fewer that know, the better the chance of
keeping it a secret. Don't you believe me?"
"That's one way of looking at it, perhaps," nodded a reporter. "But
there's another side to that, too, Somers. The United States now own
some of your boats, and the money of the people paid for those boats.
Now, don't you think the people of this country have a right to know
some of the secrets for which they pay good money, and a lot of it?"
On hearing the question put that way Eph looked tremendously
thoughtful for a few seconds.
"Why, yes, undoubtedly," admitted the carroty-topped submarine boy.
"I never thought of it that way before."
"Then--"
"See here," interrupted Eph, "it was the Secretary of the Navy, who on
behalf of the people, bought our boats."
"Yes--"
"He acted as the agent of the people," Eph continued.
"Well--"
"Therefore," asserted Eph Somers, with a roguish twinkle in his eyes,
"the Secretary of the Navy is the proper official for you to go to in
search of that information. And you may tell the Secretary--"
"Stop making fun of us," interposed a newspaper man.
"You may tell the Secretary," finished Eph, "that I said I had no

objection to his giving you the information you want."
The newspaper men after gazing briefly at the innocent-looking face of
the carroty-topped one, began to grin.
"Young Somers is all right," declared one of the visitors. "He knows
when to talk, and also when to hold his tongue."
"I never was sized up so straight before," grinned Eph, "since I was
caught stealing grapes behind the Methodist church."
Before the newspaper men departed in their boats they had obtained
some amusing and interesting points for a news "story." Yet not one of
them had gained any inside information as to the closely guarded
secrets of the submarine. Eph, from his very disposition and
temperament, made undoubtedly the best press agent the Pollard
Company could have had. Hal Hastings, while wishing to be obliging,
probably would have said his whole "say" in twenty or thirty words.
Jack Benson would have sung the praises of the Pollard boats readily
enough. But it was Eph, alone of the three, who could give to such an
interview the humor and wit that American newspaper readers enjoy.
One "reporter" in the party that was rowed back to the beach was not
known to his associates. Wherever several newspaper men are gathered
at a point on business it is generally easy for a stranger, not connected
with the press, to push himself into the group. The stranger, in this
instance, had given the name of Norton, claiming to be from an Omaha
paper.
Arrived at the beach, however, "Norton" did not hasten to the telegraph
office. Instead, he hurried to the Hotel Clayton, the largest and most
expensive of the hotels at Spruce Beach.
Entering one of the elevators, Norton stepped off at the third floor. He
stepped briskly down a corridor, stopping before a door and giving an
unusual style of knock.
"Come--in," sounded a drawling voice, and Norton entered.

From a seat by a table, in the center of the large room, rose a man
somewhat past middle age This man was tall, not very stout, with a
sallow face adorned by a mustache and goatee. The man's eyes were
piercing and black. His hair was also black, save where a slight gray
was visible at the temples.
As Norton entered, the man, who rose, threw a cigarette into the fire
place, then reached over, selected another cigarette and lighted it. The
room was thick with the odor of some foreign tobacco.
"Well, Norton?" challenged this stranger, in a low voice.
"I've been aboard