“Sara Nadiboff, twenty-nine, yet looks like twenty,” muttered Hal, studying the information under the young Russian woman’s photograph.

“And Kamanako is really Lieutenant Osuri,” muttered Jack.  “Yet the fellow was working in the hotel kitchen until he could get a chance to apply for a job on this craft.”

“I don’t recognize any other spies among these pictures,” muttered Hal.  “The only ones here that we know we had already guessed.”

“Look at that time,” muttered Jack, jumping up.  “I must get on shore and see what Mr. Farnum’s orders are.  And—­” thrusting the album in his coat pocket and buttoning it up, “I’ll take this picture gallery along.  Our employer will be highly interested in it.”

It was dusk by the time that Benson reached the platform deck.  After a few moments he succeeded in hailing a harbor boat.  Yet it was quite dark by the time that Captain Jack stepped on shore.

Instead of going around by the road Jack decided to cross the grounds.  As he was walking briskly toward the hotel, an athletic-looking young man stepped out suddenly, from behind of the big trees, blocking the submarine boy’s path.

“Good evening, Mr. Drummond,” Jack hailed, quietly.

“Now, you halt and stand right where you are,” retorted the Englishman, nervously handling a heavy walking stick that he carried.  “I don’t know whether it’s going to be a good evening for you, or not, young man.  Do you know that your cursed meddling has resulted in the arrest of a most estimable young woman?”

“Who?” asked Jack, coolly.

“Miss Peddensen,” replied Drummond, angrily.

“Oh, I guess the secret service men know what they’re about,” said Jack somewhat sarcastically.

“And I know what I’m about, too!” roared the enraged Drummond, raising his cane, wrathfully.  “Benson, you young sneak, I’m going to brain you!”

CHAPTER XVII

DRUMMOND’S LITTLE SURPRISE—­FOR HIMSELF

It didn’t happen just that way.

As Drummond swung his cane and brought it down with crushing force, aimed at the submarine boy’s head, Jack wasn’t there.

Instead, Benson sprang about two feet to one, side.  It would have been a fearful blow had Jack’s head been in the way.  As it was, the cane hit the ground with such force as to be thrown from the Englishman’s hand.

With a growl, the fellow leaped forward and snatched up his stick.  Jack Benson stood leaning carelessly against a tree, in a way that enraged Drummond all the more.

“I’ll show you!” snarled the Englishman.  With that he aimed a blow, sideways, at Benson’s head Jack ducked, then dodged out.  The cane hit the tree with a force that jarred the assailant and all but dislocated his wrist.  Again he dropped the stick.

Benson gave a hearty ringing laugh and this enraged the Englishman past endurance.  Then Jack added, “Is that the best you can do?”