Presently Rawlins and Mr. Henderson rose and as the former came to Tom’s side the other strode across the room and, facing the prisoner, stared fixedly into his face.
“I guess you’re all right, Tom,” said Rawlins, the tone of his voice betraying far more solicitude than was conveyed by his words. “You’re some kid, I’ll tell the world! You’ll be famous if you don’t watch out. Say, old man, I’m mighty sorry I kept you down so long. Never thought about you not being accustomed to it. I was so darned interested in that sub and those men I forgot about the danger to you, Tom. And say, Mr. Henderson thinks we’ve made some haul! I’ve been telling him the whole yarn—the Dutch talk and all the rest. Henderson thinks he recognizes that Hun we brought up and sees a big plot behind all this. Too bad the other fellow got flames and can’t talk. Your radio’s all to the mustard, I’ll say!”
At this moment Mr. Henderson’s voice interrupted them. As he had stared searchingly but silently at the prisoner the latter’s shifty eyes had fallen and he shuffled his feet uneasily. Then,
without warning and so suddenly Tom and the others jumped, Henderson snapped out:
“Open your mouth!”
So unexpected was the command that the prisoner, long trained to instant and implicit obedience to orders, involuntarily threw back his head opened his enormous mouth.
“Thought so!” ejaculated Mr. Henderson and then, even before the surprised man’s jaws closed, he yanked aside the fellow’s denim shirt exposing the hairy freckled chest with a livid white scar diagonally across it.
“That’s enough!” snapped out Mr. Henderson. Then, addressing Tom’s father he remarked, “It’s he, Pauling. No question of it. Good day’s work this—thanks to Rawlins’ suits and Tom’s under-sea radio.”
“Wha-what’s it all about?” demanded Tom, absolutely at a loss to grasp the meaning of all the orders, the strange telephone message and Mr. Henderson’s statements. “Who are the men and what were they doing?”
“Never mind now,” replied his father. “We’ll get home first. Feel ready to go?”