“Wh-what does it all mean?” gasped Mrs. Brainard, who had followed us upstairs with Gladys.
Burke’s lip curled slightly and he was about to speak.
“It means,” hastened Kennedy, “that you have been double crossed, Mrs. Brainard. Nordheim stole those plans of Captain Shirley’s submarine for his Titan Iron Works. Then the Japs stole them from his baggage at the hotel. He thought the secret service had them. The Japs waited here just long enough to try the plans against the Z99 herself—to destroy Captain Shirley’s work by his own method of destruction. It was clever, clever. It would make his labours seem like a failure and would discourage others from keeping up the experiments. They had planned to steal a march on the world. Every time the Z99 was out they worked up here with their improvised wireless until they found the wave-length Shirley was using. It took fifteen or twenty minutes, but they managed, finally, to interfere so that they sent the submarine to the bottom of the harbour. Instead of being the criminal, Burke, Mrs. Brainard is the victim, the victim both of Nordheim and of her servants.”
Craig had thrown open a window and had dropped down on his knees before a little stove by which the room was heated. He was poking eagerly in a pile of charred paper and linen.
“Shirley,” he cried, “your secret is safe, even though the duplicate plans were stolen. There will be no more interference.”
The Captain seized Craig by both hands and wrung them like the handle of a pump.
“Oh, thank you—thank you—thank you,” cried Gladys, running up and almost dancing with joy at the change in her father. “I—I could almost—kiss you!”
“I could let you,” twinkled Craig, promptly, as she blushed deeply. “Thank you, too, Mrs. Brainard,” he added, turning to acknowledge her congratulations also. “I am glad I have been able to be of service to you.”
“Won’t you come back to the house for dinner?” urged the Captain.
Kennedy looked at me and smiled. “Walter,” he said, “this is no place for two old bachelors like us.”