“We’ll see whether you’ve got me!” clicked the scoundrel, leaping to his feet and making for the street.

“Thank you for your mop, ma’am,” Jack called back, pantingly, as he gave chase.  It annoyed him to have Miller prove so slippery, and he was filled with dread lest the defaulter should wind up by getting clean away.

Singing snatches of song, two sailors passed on the sidewalk, just at the head of the alleyway.

“Look what’s coming,” roared one, goodnaturedly, catching at his mate’s hand.  Thus, halted, they formed an effective barrier of brawn in the way of the first runner.

“Let me through!  That wretch wants to kill me!” gasped Miller.

“We won’t let him,” replied one of the sailors, reassuringly.

“Hold him!  The police want him!” implored Jack.

“Hold on, both of you,” admonished one of the sailors, grabbing at Miller, while the other sailor placed himself so as to prevent the submarine boy from a possible attack.  “One of you is lying.  Which one is it?”

“Well,” grinned Jack, reassured, “I’m not afraid to have you take us both before the nearest officer of the law.  But I guess that man is afraid of such a test.”

“Sounds like a straightforward answer,” observed the other Jack Tar.

“This man,” declared young Benson, “is Arthur Miller, wanted by the law for looting part of his ward’s fortune and running away with the rest.”

“It’s a lie!” challenged Miller, hoarsely.

“Then ask him,” proposed Jack, crisply, “why he’s wearing a black wig, and under that has iron-gray hair that has been dyed brown?  Why he shaved his beard oft?”

“Do you know the answer?” demanded the sailor who held Miller.  The other sailor lifted Miller’s new straw hat, snatching off the wig.

“Guilty, as charged,” he grinned.

“Now, hold on to him, and march him along until you meet the first policeman,” urged Jack Benson.  “If you do that, I’m very certain that my employer, Jacob Farnum, builder of the ‘Pollard’ submarine boat, will remember you both handsomely.”

“That sounds good,” laughed one of the seamen.

“And here comes an officer now,” cried Captain Jack, looking down the street as far as the next corner.  “See how your prisoner trembles.  Would an innocent man act so?”

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

Within three minutes Arthur Miller stood before the desk at a station house.  In less than twenty minutes Messrs. Farnum and Pollard had been found.  They hurried to the police station, confirming the identification of Arthur Miller.  He was locked up.

“It’s a big thing you’ve helped to do, lads,” Jacob Farnum assured the two strong young sailors.  “You’re entitled to some of the fruits of your work.  How will this do?”