Even this momentary distraction, however, had given Miss Peddensen time to slip something out of one of her wide sleeves into her lap. And now the young Swedish woman sat so that the object taken from her sleeve was concealed behind the woman who sat next to her.
It wasn’t many moments ere Jack noted some thing about the young Swedish woman that caused the young skipper to turn, every now and then, for a swift though hidden glance in her direction.
“What on earth is Miss Peddensen doing?” wondered the submarine boy. “Hang it, I believe she’s up to something that she ought not to be doing!”
Through he did not turn and walk in her direction, Jack, thereafter, kept the young Swedish woman much more under secret observation.
“By Jove, I know what she’s doing, now,” muttered the young skipper. “That movement of her elbow betrays her, and her eyes are fixed, much of the time on her lap. If she isn’t sketching something, on the sly, then my eyesight isn’t as good as it used to be!”
Captain Jack Benson found himself quickly aquiver with suspicion and indignation.
“Yet I can’t afford to make any mistakes,” he told himself, uneasily. “I’ve got to be absolutely sure before I can take the risk of starting a human cyclone about my ears!”
CHAPTER XVI
THE GOVERNMENT TAKES A HAND
Yet, for a brief interval more, Jack Benson hesitated.
“Is the young woman sketching, or is she merely writing?” he wondered, anxiously. He watched her a little while longer.
“No; she’s sketching. Those are drawing strokes she’s making.”
Then, looking wholly blank, Jack Benson turned on his heel. He looked first at one mechanism, then at another. Yet, presently, stood close to Lieutenant Commander Kimball’s ear.
Only a few words were said, but the naval officer understood instantly.
As Captain Jack turned and went back, Kimball also sauntered along, although he did not appear interested in the submarine boy’s movements. Yet it was not long when both appeared before the young Swedish woman.
“Miss Peddensen,” murmured the lieutenant commander, “may I see what you are writing?”
The woman looked up, her face composed, her eyes dancing with mirth.
“Why, surely, Mr. Kimball,” she replied, laughing. “And very silly stuff you’ll find it, too. I have been jotting down my impressions upon finding myself riding under the surface of the sea. I do not handle your English language very well, as you will see.”
Mr. Kimball glanced hastily through the three or four pages of rather closely written note paper. It was, as the young woman had stated, a very amateurish composition, in very stilted English.
The naval officer felt a sense of mortification and his face reddened slightly. He had been led to expect that he would find something crime on these sheets of paper. Instead, he scanned a stupid piece of composition.