“But why have you done this?” demanded Jack.  “What have you against me?”

“I didn’t do it on my own account.  I did it for Tip Gaynor, a salesman for Sidenham.”

“The Sidenham Submarine Company?” cried Jack, deeply interested.  “The Sidenham people are our nearest competitors in the submarine business!” he exclaimed.

“Yes; and they wanted to get the business away from the Pollard Company.  They told Tip Gaynor it would be worth ten thousand dollars to him for each Sidenham boat he could sell to the Government.  Tip hired me—­”

“One moment, please,” interrupted Jack.  “Did the Sidenham officials know that Gaynor intended to use such methods?”

“I don’t believe they did,” replied Truax.

“Humph!  So Gaynor hired you to do all you could to disgrace me in the eyes of the naval authorities and to injure the machinery in the engine room of the submarine!”

“Yes.  Tip said it was highly important that the Pollard boats should break down while under the eyes of all Annapolis, so that it would seem that they could not be depended upon.”

Truax here became so ill that his audience had to wait until he could proceed.  Then Jack asked: 

“What sort of looking fellow is Gaynor?”

“He was the black-bearded man who shanghaied you in the white knockabout.  He doesn’t usually wear a beard.  He grew it for the occasion.”

“So, acting for Tip Gaynor, you undertook to ruin us all and the good name of our boats!  You even met Dave Pollard and got him to take you on as a machinist for our boats!”

“Tip knew a man who was willing to introduce me to Mr. Pollard.”

“It was like kindly, unsuspicious Dave Pollard to be taken in by a rascal like that,” muttered Jack to himself.

Sam Truax added a few more details to his confession, then said: 

“I couldn’t die without telling you this, Benson.  I hope you forgive me.”

Before Jack Benson could reply Lieutenant Commander Mayhew stepped forward.

“Truax, have you told us the exact truth?”

“I have.”

“You thought it would be easy to get the better of a boy like Benson, I suppose.”

“Easy enough,” admitted Sam.  “So did Tip.”

“You shot far below the mark in guessing at Benson’s ingenuity and brains,” remarked Doctor McCrea, laughing.  “It was he who suggested this way of inducing you to make this confession after you had refused to answer the lieutenant commander’s questions.”

“What?” demanded Truax harshly.

“When I was first called in to you, you were not sick, only scared by the remarks of others.  After we got you in here, we dosed you with ipecac.  That started your stomach to moving up and down.”

“What?  You poisoned me?”

“The ipecac was my choice.  It isn’t poison.  The general idea was Captain Benson’s.  With a lad like him you haven’t a chance.”