“Yes.”

Jack hastily reported to his two friends.  Just then a policeman approached.  Farnum learned that he was stationed here during the naval week.  So the boatbuilder gave the officer a hasty description of the fugitive and asked that the steward, in case he returned to the station, and attempted to board a train, be arrested.

“I’ll certainly nab him,” promised the officer.

“Now, come along up that street, yonder,” called Farnum to his companions.  “Confound it, it’s like hunting a needle in a hay-stack!”

“And we forgot to ask that officer to report to the police of the town,” Jack reminded his employer, after they had gone a little way.

“Run back to the station, get the police station on the ’phone, and send word to the chief, will you?” begged Mr. Farnum.

Captain Jack returned on the run.  He secured ’phone connection with the chief of police, and was able to give a graphic description of the steward who was wanted so badly.

“Of course,” Jack hinted to the police chief, “the fellow we want so badly may have friends on shore, or some other way of changing his white uniform for other clothes.”

“I won’t overlook that,” promised the chief of police.  “And I’ll send out a general alarm at once.”

By the time that the submarine boy left the railway station again Farnum and Pollard were out of sight.  Nevertheless, Benson hurried off up the same street they had taken.

He walked quickly for two blocks, then, coming to a larger street that crossed at right angles, he started to turn and go east.  Just as he rounded the corner he thought he heard something strike the sidewalk, as though it had dropped from his pockets.

Wheeling quickly, the submarine boy returned to the corner.  He was just in time to see something that took his thoughts like a flash from everything else.

Near the doorway of a small clothing store, two doors from the corner, a man had been looking stealthily out.  Just as Jack turned the corner, out of sight, this man darted out, then slowed down to a deliberate walk in the direction of the railway station.

It was this man at whom Jack Benson found himself staring with all his eyesight.  The man was dressed in a rather fastidious-looking summer weight frock coat suit.  On his head rested an expensive straw hat of the latest sort.  Over his eyes were light blue goggles.  His hair was jet black.

“But that’s a wig!” flashed Jack Benson, inwardly, almost at once.  “That’s Arthur Miller, just the same.  He has the same walk as the steward!”

Though the other had had a brief chance for a glimpse at Benson just as he turned, the well dressed one did not increase his pace—­that is, not until he heard Captain Jack’s swift steps behind him.

“Oh, just a minute, if you please!” called Benson, in a voice that was ironically pleasant.

One look over his shoulder the other took, then broke into a run.