“I doubt it,” replied Rawlins. “The sea’s a mighty big place and the Lord knows where she’ll emerge. No knowing which way she headed either. For all any one knows she may have scooted over to some hangout on Long Island or swung around up the Hudson or slipped into the sound or stood out to sea. But I doubt if she’ll try getting out of the harbor submerged. Too risky. She might bump into a liner or a ship any minute and she’d have to go blind—no periscope out, you see, because she’ll know we’d have chasers, looking for her. No, I expect they’ll submerge, rest on the bottom in shallow water somewhere and wait until night. Then she could sneak out to sea with just her conning tower out. There’s about one chance in a million of finding her and that’s the only way we slipped up. Just as soon as I saw her I knew something crooked was going
on—knew it soon as ever I put eyes on those fellows in self-contained suits—infringing my patents, darn ’em—and I planned to get back and notify the authorities. Then we could have nabbed her and her whole crew. Slipped up by letting those Bolshevik birds spot me. And Tom—did you notice those fellows didn’t have those gadgets on their helmets? How do you suppose they worked their radio without ’em?”
“Gosh!” exclaimed Tom. “I didn’t think of it at the time, but it’s so. Say, what became of their suits? We can examine their outfits and find out all about it.”
“Suits are safe enough down at the dock,” Rawlins assured him. “You’ll have some fun examining them, I’ll say.”
“Why didn’t you ask Mr. Murphy all about what it meant?” inquired Frank, who had been pondering on the mystery.
Rawlins gave a hearty laugh. “You don’t know friend Murphy,” he answered. “I’ll say I asked him, but you might as well ask a lamp-post. I know why they call potatoes Murphys now—all eyes and no mouth. That’s him, too. Nice and
pleasant and everything, but not a mite of information. When I asked him first time he just looked me all over as if I was some kind of a rare specimen. ‘Mr. Pauling says youse is on the level,’ he said, ‘and I’ll take his word if he says the devil himself has turned saint. But my orders is to say nothing to nobody till I reports to Mr. Pauling and my orders stays orders till he gives me new ones. He’s told me to let youse in here and to look after youse and that I’m doin’, but never a word did he say about tellin’ of youse anything, an’ that I won’t. What youse can see youse can see and welcome and what youse may overhear youse can hear, but I’d advise youse to not repeat it, and now draw your own conclusions.’”
The boys laughed. “He looked like that,” said Frank. “I can just imagine him saying it.”
“And what did you say?” inquired Mrs. Pauling. “I have met that man Murphy—he’s one of Fred’s right-hand men.”
“Oh, I knew he was right and just slapped him on the back and told him he was a good skate and I’d put in a good word for him at any time. Told