“I’ll show you!” roared the other, making a leap forward.  He charged straight at the submarine boy, who wheeled and darted on toward hotel.

“Don’t run, you coward!” came the flying taunt.

Just then Jack Benson fell, though he did it on purpose.  Straight in the path of the irate Englishman the submarine boy dropped, curling himself up.

It was too late for Drummond to halt, or to change his course.  He tripped over prostrate young Benson, then lurched forward landing on his face.

Up sprang Jak Benson, planting two sterling good kicks.

“You beast!  Wait until I get up!” roared the victim, in a voice like a bull’s bellow.

“What’s the matter here?” demanded an astonished voice, and Mr. Trotter, after a short dash, bounded through the darkness, arriving on the scene just as Drummond was getting up.

“This fellow—­” began Jack.

“’Fellow’?” broke in Drummond, angrily.

“This fellow,” Jack continued, calmly, “accused me of causing Miss Peddensen’s arrest, and promised to brain me.”

“Too bad you’ve allied yourself with that young woman,” muttered Mr. Trotter looking keenly into the Englishman’s face.

“What d’ye mean?” demanded Drummond.

“Miss Peddensen turns out to be a well-known military and naval spy, though she hasn’t operated in this country before in five years,” replied Mr. Trotter, coolly.  “However, she has been caught trying to steal the secrets of the submarine boat, and she’s under arrest.  My side partner, Packwood, is now engaged in unraveling a cipher that was taken from her.”

“That’s an impudent lie,” asserted the Englishman, hotly.

“No it isn’t,” laughed Mr. Trotter.  “It’s a Secret Service fact.”

“I’m going to go to Miss Peddensen, now, then,” asserted Drummond.

“Right-o,” drawled Trotter, so significantly that Drummond shot a quick look at the officer, demanding: 

“What d’ye mean by that?”

“I’m going to take you to Miss Peddensen,” returned the Secret Service man.

“I’ll go all the way to Washington, by tonight’s express, to see the young lady freed from this outrageous mistake,” stormed the Englishman.

“I don’t know about your going to Washington—­to-night,” replied Trotter, yawning.

“What have you to do with that?” demanded Drummond, harshly.

“Why, I reckon, Mr. Drummond, you’re my prisoner.  You won’t very easily go anywhere to-night, without my consent.”

“Your prisoner?” demanded the Englishman angrily.

“Yes.”

“By what right do you arrest me!  What have I done?”

“Well, for one thing, you’ve tried to injure the captain of the submarine boat, all because he caught your woman friend at strange tricks on board the ‘Benson.’  For another reason, because we suspect anyone who defends or upholds the spy.  Be good enough to step along with me, Mr. Drummond.”