“See, there’s another!” I cried, catching sight of it.

All looked.  Sure enough, through the water could be seen another of those murderous messengers dashing at us.

Arnold ran forward and seized the wheel himself, swinging the boat around hard to starboard and the land.  We turned just in time.  The torpedo, brainless but deadly, dashed past us harmlessly.

As fast as we could now we made for the shore.  No one could catch us with such a start, not even the swiftest torpedo.  We had been rescued by Arnold’s quick wit from a most desperate situation.

Somewhere below the water, I could imagine a man consumed with fury over our escape, as the periscope disappeared and the submarine made off.

We were safe.  But, looking out over the water, we could not help shuddering at the perils beneath its apparently peaceful surface.

CHAPTER XIV

THE LIFE CHAIN

Early one morning, a very handsome woman of the adventuress type arrived with several trunks at the big summer hotel, just outside the town, the St. Germain.

Among the many fashionable people at the watering-place, however, she attracted no great attention and in the forenoon she quietly went out in her motor for a ride.

It was Madame Larenz, one of Del Mar’s secret agents who, up to this time, had been engaged in spying on wealthy and impressionable American manufacturers.

Her airing brought her, finally, to the bungalow of Del Mar and there she was admitted in a manner that showed that Del Mar trusted her highly.

“Now,” he instructed, after a few minutes chat, “I want you to get acquainted with Miss Dodge.  You know how to interest her.  She’s quite human.  Pretty gowns appeal to her.  Get her to the St. Germain.  Then I’ll tell you what to do.”

A few minutes later the woman left in her car, so rapidly driven that no one would recognize her.

It was early in the afternoon that Aunt Josephine was sitting on the veranda, when an automobile drove up and a very stylishly gowned and bonnetted woman stepped out.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted Aunt Josephine ingratiatingly as she approached the house.  “I am Madame Larenz of New York and Paris.  Perhaps you have heard of my shops on Fifth Avenue and the Rue de la Paix.”

Aunt Josephine had heard the name, though she did not know that this woman had assumed it without being in any way connected with the places she mentioned.

“I’m establishing a new sort of summer service at the better resorts,” the woman explained.  “You see, my people find it annoying to go into the city for gowns.  So I am bringing the latest Paris models out to them.  Is Miss Dodge at home?”

“I think she is playing tennis,” returned Aunt Josephine.

“Oh, yes, I see her, thank you,” the woman murmured, moving toward the tennis court, back of the house.