In the days that followed, the need of work drove away thoughts of the trick played by the Millers.

Trip after trip was made out to sea, and under the sea, in the “Pollard.”  That fine little craft was tested under every condition that could be imagined, except that, of course, no torpedoes were fired through her business-like bow tube.  The firing of torpedoes at sea belonged to the Navy exclusively.  Such a test could not be made by a civilian trial crew.

By degrees the submarine boys outgrew every trace of dread at finding themselves well under the surface of the sea.  Their confidence in the abilities of the “Pollard” made them daring to the point of recklessness.

Just once the boys did have strong occasion to remember the Millers.  That was when they were ashore one night.  Grace Desmond, the despoiled heiress, who, as events proved, was left without a dollar of her own, came to Dunhaven to live with friends until she could plan what she was to do to earn her living.

The three boys were walking, in uniform, with Mr. Farnum when that gentleman suddenly asked them, in low tones: 

“Do you see that young lady in white, walking with the two old people, coming toward us?”

“Yes,” Jack answered.

“That’s Miss Desmond.  I feel like going into a rage every time I see that poor girl.  She was heiress to eight hundred thousand dollars.  The lawyers believe that Arthur Miller carried off than half a million in cash belonging to Miss Desmond.  And we helped start him on his journey.  Confound the rascal!”

Grace Desmond was a beautiful girl, above medium height, slender and dark.  The simple white gown that she wore displayed her beauty at its best.  Despite her fearful loss, when the boys first caught sight of her, she was smiling cheerily as she chatted with her elderly friends.

Mr. Farnum and his young friends came to a street corner just before they encountered Miss Desmond and her companions.  The builder would have turned down the side street, but Miss Desmond called to him.  So he was obliged to lift his hat and stand waiting until the girl reached him.

“I want just a word with you, Mr. Farnum,” began Miss Desmond.  “It has come to me that you are very much upset over having helped my uncle to escape.  I want to tell you how foolish it is for you to be unhappy about it.  You weren’t in the least to blame.  You did what any other good-natured man would have done under the circumstances.  The only ones who can be blamed for any part in the affair are the two men from whom I had a right to expect the most considerate treatment.  But as for you, Mr. Farnum, I beg that you will give my misfortune no further thought.”

“That would be impossible,” protested the builder.

“At least, never allow a thought of self-blame to creep in again.  Please don’t,” she added, appealingly.  Then, as though to change the subject abruptly, she inquired: