“Yes, this is a cipher,” declared Packwood, thoughtfully, after scanning the sheets a few moments.  “With some study I can make it out.”

“Who’s the young Englishman who escorted Miss Peddensen?” demanded Captain Jack.

“Never saw him until I glanced at him in the launch just now,” replied Trotter.  “He may be another spy, unknown to us, or he may be merely a good-natured and wholly innocent young chap whom the Swedish girl has lured into her service.”

“What are these other pictures?” inquired Mr. Kimball, beginning to turn the leaves.

“All of ’em photos of people known to be engaged in stealing naval secrets for foreign powers,” replied Trotter.  “Captain Benson may keep this album for future use.  I’ve another copy for you, Mr. Kimball.”

“Why, here’s a good likeness of Mlle. Nadiboff,” cried Jack Benson, pausing in turning the leaves and glancing down at the picture of a face he had good cause to remember.  “And here, opposite her, is M. Lemaire!”

“Oh, yes; they’re both old offenders,” nodded Trotter.  “Turn along, and see if you remember any more faces.”

“Here’s Gaston, who is now in jail here,” nodded Jack.

“Is he, though?” asked Trotter, with interest.

“What charge?”

“Felonious assault upon Hastings and myself.”

“Good,” chuckled Trotter.  “I shall have to see the judge privately, and ask him to make sure that Gaston Goubet gets the longest sentence possible.  Nothing like prison bars to stop the work of these international spies!”

“Why, here’s even little Kamanako,” smiled as he turned over another page.

“Yes, and a very smooth and slippery little spy that Jap is,” declared Mr. Trotter.  “He steals all kinds of secrets, from the details of sixteen inch guns down to the method of dyeing a blanket in a mill.”

“Are you going to do anything with the Peddensen woman?” inquired Lieutenant Commander Kimball.

“Ain’t I, though—­just!” answered Mr. Trotter.  “You caught her red-handed, with drawings, cipher and all.”

“Will she be imprisoned?” inquired Captain Jack.

“Well, that isn’t the usual way,” replied Trotter.  “The young woman is more likely to be taken to New York, given a passage ticket across the ocean, and notified that, if she tries to return to this country, she will find that her photograph is on file at every port of entry.  It will spoil her games, without making much of a fuss.”

The cutter waiting alongside conveyed Kimball and his brother officer, Featherstone, back to the gunboat.  Then it ran into shore; putting Mr. Trotter and his silent companion once more on land.

For some minutes after that Jack, Hal and Eph remained absorbed in the pictures in this album of known naval spies.  There were more than two dozen of these photographs, some of men, some of women.  On the same page with each picture was given the subject’s true name, if known, also the spy’s aliases, and other information.