CHAPTER XX
CAPTAIN JACK PULLS A NEW STRING
Radwin did not return.
Though looking outwardly composed, John C. Rhinds passed the next few hours in a condition of internal unrest.
Why did Chief Ward want to see Fred Radwin? And why had the latter tricked himself off out of sight?
These questions tormented Rhinds the more because he could not even invent satisfactory answers to them.
"Is the chief of police acting on anyone else's orders?" quavered the old man. "Has Fred betrayed himself in anything he has done? Is he a fugitive from justice? Oh, mercy! What a situation just when I am trying to put the deals through that shall make the Rhinds Submarine Company the richest concern of its kind in the world!"
By the middle of the afternoon Rhinds heard the newsboys calling something excitedly down in the street.
"What's that? What's that?" gasped the old man, holding one hand to his ear. "Sounds like 'Dastardly plot—submarine mystery.' Can it be anything to injure our chances?"
As he looked down into the street, from the altitude of the third floor window, Rhinds saw that, whatever the news, the boys appeared to be selling papers fast.
For a few seconds Rhinds wavered. Then he crossed the room to the telephone.
"Send me up the latest editions of the newspapers," he 'phoned the clerk in the office. After that he lighted a big, black cigar—and waited, mopping the perspiration from his forehead.
After a few moments there came a knock at the door, and Rhinds opened it. He noticed that the bell-boy looked at him somewhat queerly as the papers were handed over. Then, having closed the door and locked it, John Rhinds sank into a chair, holding up three newspapers, in turn, and scanning the big, black headlines.
Yes; here it all was—the whole story in every essential detail. It told of the mysterious attempt to destroy the "Hastings" at the end of the lightning cruise. The stories contained Lieutenant Danvers's statement that the "Thor" had been headed toward the "Hastings" just a few seconds before the torpedo passed the Pollard boat's bows. There was an account of the naval party's search of the "Thor," and the fact that the latter craft was found to have her full number of torpedoes on board was set forth in all fairness. Oh, yes! The story was fair enough! No newspapermen could have been fairer than had the chroniclers of this exciting submarine news. There were no accusations against Rhinds or his associates—nothing but the fair, unbiased telling of facts. And yet, in almost any reader's mind the opinion would be quick to form that only from the "Thor" could the treacherous torpedo have been fired.
"Oh, it's—it's awful!" cried John Rhinds, waving the papers over his head like a madman.
Jack Benson had played his master stroke in this new game.
In former times, when the Pollard boats had been all but unknown, Captain Jack had been quick to grasp the importance of newspaper fame. As told in the second volume of this series, Jack had once invited a big party of newspaper folks to Dunhaven, to observe some startling performances by the Pollard boat. At that time he had given them a programme so full of excitement that the fame of the Pollard boat had been flashed over the country, and the Navy Department had found public opinion clamoring for the United States Navy to own and control a few of these wonderful craft.
And now, Jack Benson, wholly and absolutely convinced of the guilt of Rhinds and Radwin, had gone to the local daily newspaper offices with his account of what had happened out at sea.
It was a great stroke. Yet Captain Jack had not undertaken it without first having secured the permission of Jacob Farnum. After Jack went to the newspaper offices the Colfax reporters had busied themselves with interviewing naval officers, including members of the naval board.
And now the story was out, for the world to read. Yet it was a statement only of bare, easily proved facts. The newspapers were glad to have such a startling yarn, and it had been told in such a way that John Rhinds did not have a single chance in any suit he might bring for libel.
After the first shock that the discovery caused him, John C. Rhinds began to suspect Jack's hand in this straight-from-the-shoulder blow.
"It's that young Benson again!" he raged, silently, rising and stamping on the offending, yet truth-telling, newspapers. "And this will get beyond Colfax! The newspapers of the larger cities will begin to hear of this by evening. To-night this whole yarn will be flashing over the telegraph wires of the country. Tomorrow morning millions of people will be reading this awful stuff. Oh, if I could only tear that young fellow to pieces!"
John Rhinds gnashed his teeth in his fury. Had he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, just then, the man would have been afraid of his own reflection.
Yet, with all his guilty knowledge of what he had encouraged Radwin to do, it did not occur to Rhinds to lay the blame anywhere except upon the shoulders of honest, though hard fighting, Captain Jack Benson.
Presently, John Rhinds cooled down.
He even became suave and smiling—though under the smile a ghastly pallor lay on his cheeks.
This change of outward temper was all because he was forced to become crafty before others.
It is a common way with many newspapers to leap on a man and trounce him, figuratively speaking, and then to send reporters around to see how the victim has enjoyed the flaying.
That was what happened to John Rhinds.
Within half an hour after the newspapers had come to him a message over
the telephone from the hotel office informed the president of the Rhinds
Submarine Company that a reporter was below who wished to interview Mr.
Rhinds.
"Ah! Er—huh!" choked the wretch, swallowing hard. "Have the young gentleman shown up, of course. And send up any other reporters who may ask for me."
By the time that the first reporter reached the door Rhinds had carefully removed all traces of the torn newspapers. The old man was calm. He even smiled slightly, though he affected to be stung to the soul by the thought that any American could think that he, or any of his party aboard the "Thor" could have been guilty of such a fearful attempt of crime.
"But of course, young man," urged Rhinds, suavely, "you will be able, through the great power of the press for right, to set all suspicions at rest. You will, I beg of you, give renewed publicity to the fact that we were found to have our full number of torpedoes aboard. That one fact, of course, disposes of any suspicion that we could have thought of doing such a fearful thing."
The reporter was young, but he was not lacking in shrewdness. This boyish-looking journalist had interviewed smooth-talking scoundrels before.
"There is one little point I would like to inquire about, Mr. Rhinds," hinted this reporter, chewing at the end of his pencil.
"A dozen—a hundred points—anything you want to know!" protested the man who was being interviewed.
"Thank you," nodded the reporter, coolly. "Now, it is a well-established fact that you had your full number of torpedoes aboard, when the naval officers searched. But have you any place on board the 'Thor' that would serve as a hiding place for an extra torpedo—an extra torpedo that might, let us say, have been obtained in any one of a number of ways?"
John C. Rhinds began to feel great waves of chill passing up and down his spine. Hang this smiling, boyish reporter! Rhinds began to feel that he hated this young man next to Jack Benson!
"No!" shouted the interviewed one, hoarsely, angrily. "We have no such hiding place on board. We have no place that could be used for hiding an extra torpedo."
The reporter nodded, then continued with a cool smile:
"Thank you, Mr. Rhinds, for answering so important a question on such a vitally important point. It is very important to have the suspicion disposed of that such a hiding place might exist."
"Very important," confirmed John Rhinds, leaning forward in his most impressive manner. "And you have my authority for settling the point for good and all."
"So that, of course, Mr. Rhinds," pursued the cool, smiling young reporter, "you will be most glad when I suggest to you the importance of allowing a commission composed of, say, an editor and two reporters from the 'Gazette' to go aboard the 'Thor,' search for such a hiding place, and then be prepared to inform the world that no such hiding place exists on the 'Thor.'"
That proposition came like a torpedo itself; it struck, too, below the water-line of John Rhinds's hard-won composure.
"Why do you—?" he stammered. Then the wretch forced himself to be cool again.
"No, my young friend, I am sorry to say that that would not be practicable. You see, a submarine craft is full of secrets. Outside of our own crew none but officers of the Navy can be permitted to go below the platform deck of any of my boats."
"Oh, well, then," nodded the reporter, "the 'Gazette' can clamor for a naval board to be appointed to make the search, and at once. That will serve the purpose as well, Mr. Rhinds—and it will answer the most burning question that the public will want to ask."
Then came the other reporters. Rhinds saw them all, wore before them all the mask of wounded innocence, showed them all how easily they might allay all public suspicions.
Then, when the last reporter had departed, John Rhinds, feeling too weak to stand, sank down upon a sofa, covering his face with his hands. Thus, for some time he lay, hardly giving signs of life. His fright was great, indeed.
In striking this blow young Captain Jack Benson had struck far harder than he had even dreamed.
When Rhinds began to realize things once more he missed Fred Radwin—Radwin, the seeming fugitive, who had run away from his foul leader at the first sound of a police voice.
Still, it was possible that Radwin was not far away. Possible, also, that in this fact lay time greatest danger that had ever menaced Jack Benson.