The Submarine Boys and the Spies | Page 9

the new submarine, Monsieur Lemaire," replied the
young man. "I went with a party of newspaper writers, pretending to be
one of their calling."
"An excellent idea, Norton. And you saw the very boyish officers of the
boat?"
"Only one of them. The other two were paying a call on board the
gunboat. I saw Somers."
"You gathered some idea of how to pump him for the information
wanted, of course?"
"No; I didn't," retorted Norton, scowling. "I learned, very soon, that
Somers is one whom we want to leave out of our count in getting
information?"
"Why so?"
"Well, M. Lemaire, if you meet that young fellow, and try to draw him
out, you'll understand. He can talk longer, and tell less, than any young
fellow I've met. He seems to guess just what you want to know, and
then he carefully tells you something else."
"Ah, well, out of three young men, we shall find one who will tell us all
we need to know," laughed M. Lemaire, gayly. "So it is only a question

of learning which of the three to make the first attempt upon."
"If you want a suggestion--" began Norton.
"By all means, my dear fellow."
"Then turn your batteries of inquisitiveness loose upon Jack Benson,
first of all. He may be easy game. As for the third, Hal Hastings, I hear
that he is a silent fellow, who says little, and generally waits five
minutes, to think his answer over, before he gives it."
"Benson it shall be, then," nodded M. Lemaire. "I shall find it easy to
meet him. And now, good-bye, Norton, until this evening. You will
know what to do then."
After Norton had gone out, closing the door behind him, M. Lemaire
carefully flecked the ash from his cigarette as he murmured to himself:
"Then it shall be Captain Benson whom we first attack! Nor do I
believe I can do better than to enlist the services of Mademoiselle Sara.
Ah, yes! Her eyes are fine--perfect. One looks into her eyes, and trusts
her. Captain Jack Benson, you shall have the pleasure of meeting a
most charming creature!"
CHAPTER III
ON THE EDGE OF THE SPIDER'S WEB
An hour after dinner the orchestra of the Hotel Clayton crashed out into
the first two-step.
The big ballroom was already two thirds as well filled as it could be
with comfort. Potted green palms stood everywhere at the sides. The
orchestra in the gallery was nearly concealed behind a fringe of green.
The air was sweetly odorous with the fragrance of southern blossoms.
Scores of young women in all varieties of handsome evening dress
enlivened the appearance of the scene. Their gems cast glitter and
enchantment. There were men enough, too, for partners in the dance,

the men behind expanses of white shirt-front and clad in the black of
evening dress.
Just a few of the men, however, lent additional color to the scene.
These were officers and midshipmen from the "Waverly," who came
attired in the handsome blue, gold-braided dress uniforms of the
service.
Among the guests of the hotel who attended the dance were Jacob
Farnum and his two young submarine experts; Jack Benson and Hal
Hastings. The shipbuilder had come ashore with his young friends,
registering at the Clayton and taking rooms there.
"It's time for you youngsters to get ashore and have a little gaiety,"
Farnum had declared. "If you don't mix with lively people once in a
while, you'll rust even while you keep the 'Benson's' machinery bright."
Jack and Hal had agreed to this. Eph, however, had expressed himself
decidedly as preferring to remain on board the submarine for the time.
Williamson, too, had elected to remain on board, and so had David
Pollard, who rarely cared for anything in the social line.
On the floor, even before the music struck up, was M. Lemaire. He was
in the usual black evening dress, though on his wide shirt front
glistened the jeweled decoration of some order conferred upon him by a
European sovereign.
A handsome and distinguished figure did M. Lemaire present. He
nodded affably to many of the ladies in passing, and the interest with
which his greetings were acknowledged proved that M. Lemaire was in
a gathering where he could boast many acquaintances.
Almost at the first, M. Lemaire had succeeded in having Captain Jack
Benson pointed out to him. The tall, sallow man looked over the
submarine boys eagerly, though covertly. He beheld them in handsome
dress uniforms, very much like those worn by the naval officers, for
Jacob Farnum had insisted that his young submarine officers, wherever
they went must be appropriately attired.

In the throng, as M. Lemaire passed, stood one handsomely dressed girl.
Her face, which was interestingly beautiful, had a slightly