“There, again, I am inclined to think you are right, Captain Benson,” nodded the old admiral, thoughtfully.  “My, but I often wish I could look forward, as you may, to being alive fifty years from now—­living to see what sea warfare will be like then!”

While Jack Benson was listening or talking, he became conscious that one of the noiseless stewards waiting at table was eyeing him keenly, even if covertly, at such times as he approached.

The steward in question was brownhaired and smoothly shaven, a man of about fifty years of age who carried himself with much dignity.  When Jack got his first good look at this man, the submarine boy felt certain that the steward’s hair was dyed to its present color.  There was something altogether familiar about the man’s look, too, that puzzled young Benson.

Now, during a lull in the conversation, and between courses, this steward approached the table to replace young Benson’s water-glass, which he had just filled.

As the steward reached out to set the glass down Jack wheeled, looking straight into the man’s eyes.

The steward returned the look and paled, then—­

Crash!  The glass dropped from the man’s fingers, breaking to fragments on the cabin floor.

With a softly-muttered word, the luckless steward bent, picked up the pieces of glass and beat a hasty retreat, followed by a heavy frown from the chief steward.

Then, all of a sudden, it flashed through the boy’s mind where he had seen this man before.

Leaning toward Jacob Farnum, the submarine boy whispered: 

“You’ve been trying hard to find Grace Desmond’s fugitive guardian.”

“I don’t know what I wouldn’t give to come up with that rascal!” muttered the boatbuilder fervently, his eyes blazing.

“Then I guess you’re going to have your wish,” continued Jack Benson.  “The man who dropped the glass is—­Arthur Miller.”

Uttering an eager cry, his fists clenched, Jacob Farnum started up from his chair.

CHAPTER XXII

A DIVE THAT WAS LIKE MAGIC

“What’s wrong?” demanded Admiral Bentley, looking up quickly.

“I—­I beg your pardon, sir,” cried Mr. Farnum, though lowering his voice, “but I want a good look at the steward who has been attending to this end of the table.”

“Nothing will be more simple,” replied the admiral.

Just at that moment another steward entered the room.

“Ask that new steward to come here,” directed the admiral.

The man hastened away in search of his mate.

“Pardon me, but is there any unusual reason why you wish to see that particular steward?” asked the admiral, in a low voice.

“The only reason, sir,” replied Mr. Farnum dryly, “is that my friend, Benson, is certain the fellow is identical with the defaulting guardian of a young woman at present employed in my office.  He is believed to have taken the last half-million dollars remaining of her fortune away with him into hiding.”