Jack Benson again climbed to the cab box.

“You know I have the pistol,” muttered Jack, showing the driver the weapon.  “There’s no need to ride through the town with the weapon in my hand.  But, if you try to cut up any tantrums, you may be sure you’ll find your own wrists inside of handcuffs.”

“I know when I ain’t got no show at all,” growled the sullen driver.

“Drive ahead, then—­into Washington, and straight to police headquarters.”

Lieutenant Abercrombie, R.N., jogged his own mount steadily alongside, so that he could at all times command a view of the interior.

Millard—­Donald Graves—­would have opened some conversation with Daisy Huston, but the disdainful girl cut him short.

As the cab rolled into the busier streets of Washington Lieutenant Abercrombie drew a little further away from the cab, in order not to attract attention, though he still remained actively on guard.

The prisoner’s manacled hands did not show to the people passing on the sidewalks.

So, altogether, no passersby thought to turn to look after the cab.

Just as the little procession turned a street corner to drive direct to the door of police headquarters, Abercrombie waved a hand carelessly to three pedestrians on the sidewalk.

“Abercrombie!” cried Lieutenant Ulwin.  “And there’s Benson on the box of that hack!”

“Come right along into headquarters,” whispered Abercrombie.  “Don’t make any noise.”

Wondering until they were fairly agape, Ulwin, Hal and Eph drew up at the cab door as Jack, after only a brief nod to them, opened the door and handed out Miss Daisy Huston.

Lieutenant Abercrombie, having given his horse to a boy down the street to hold, now came forward, raising his hat, to take charge of the young lady.

“Come along, Millard,” called Jack Benson, quietly, and the prisoner got out, while the British officer stepped down the street with his fair companion to find another carriage in which she could return home.

Inside Jack marched his prisoner up to the railing in one of the rooms.  The young naval officer at once produced his credentials and displayed them to the police official in charge.

“Now, with your permission, sir,” Jack went on, courteously, “I will use your telephone, and inform the Navy Department of the prisoner who awaits their action here.”

Five minutes later this had been done.  Benson turned to Lieutenant Abercrombie, saying: 

“I must apologize for not having thought to return your revolver as soon as we entered.”

“I would beg you to keep the weapon, dear old fellow, if it would be of any use to you,” replied the British officer.

And now Hal and Eph found chance to explain that they, worried by Jack Benson’s disappearance, had at last started down to headquarters to see if they could learn of any mishap to him, or of any other explanation for his long absence.