“Don’t you dare!” challenged young Melville. But Jack glanced down at him with contempt, retorting:
“I follow only Mr. Farnum’s orders. People who follow your orders take too big a risk of having to go to jail.”
In Don’s inner coat pocket rested a long, white envelope. Jack fished it out with a cry of triumph.
“Got it, Jack?” hailed the boatbuilder.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then hold on to that envelope until we have a good chance to look it over. It’s supposed to contain plans, or some sort of information, that you were supposed to be selling the Melvilles to-night.”
“What?” gasped Captain Jack.
“Oh, there’s a lot to the affair, and some of it needs unraveling, but we’ll get to the bottom of it yet.”
“I should say we’d have to!”
“This young hoodlum that I’m holding down is dressed in a uniform just like yours.”
“I noticed that, sir.”
“He’s your figure, and complexion, and doesn’t look a whole lot unlike you, Jack. I was fooled to-night, from the distance, when he impersonated you. But, now I have a closer look, this young fellow looks more like a thug, and he’s slightly cross-eyed, too.”
“I hear voices, so they must be over this way,” sounded the tones of Broughton Emerson, between the trees. Then he and George Melville came upon the scene.
The elder Melville stared incredulously, with a startled gasp, when he got close enough to make out what had happened.
“Benson,” blurted the capitalist, “how dare you? This is an outrage, you young puppy! Don, get up out of that undignified position. Get up this instant!”
“He will,” said Jack, dryly, “as soon as he can get away. At present he’s held down by force of circumstances.”
“Get off my son, you impudent young upstart!” insisted George Melville, aghast at the ignoring of his first order. “Don, get up this instant.”
“Mr. Farnum gives all the orders here, so far as I’m concerned, Mr. Melville,” announced the submarine boy.
“Oh, let him up,” said Farnum, dryly. “We know just where to find Don Melville any time that we need him.”
Jack got up willingly enough, then. But Don, as soon as he had recovered some of his crumpled dignity, held out one hand imperiously.
“Give me that envelope you just took from my pocket,” he commanded.
“Oh, will I?” rejoined Benson. “Ask Mr. Farnum for it.”
“Hold onto that envelope, Jack,” commanded the boatbuilder.
Jack Benson thrust it into his inner coat pocket, next firmly buttoning the front of his coat. Don made a move forward, as though to prevent, but drew back sullenly when he caught the flash of the submarine captain’s steady eyes.
“Did young Benson take anything from your pockets?” demanded George Melville, stiffly.
“Yes, that envelope that he has just buttoned up in his own coat,” said Don, sulkily.