Someone had been tampering with the pilot room apparatus.
With a groan of desperation, Ned bent over the complexity of gears. He located the trouble almost immediately and was relieved to note that it was merely superficial—a matter of minutes to repair. But too late! At that moment the big yard gates were burst open forcibly and in strode four burly federal plain-clothes men, displaying their badges of authority. One other man accompanied them. Alan, who went out on the lowest exposed gangway of the Flyer to meet them, recognized him in an instant. It was Mr. Geisthorn, the local correspondent of the Berliner Tageblatt.
“Is this Mr. Napier?” growled the leader.
“No, I am Mr. Hope. Mr. Napier will be here presently.”
The officer pulled an official looking document from his breast pocket and extended it towards Alan.
“We have a warrant for the arrest of both of you gentlemen. Also for that of one Stewart, said to be connected with the New York Herald.”
“Mr. Stewart will also be here presently,” said Alan. “Upon what charge are we to be detained?”
“Conspiracy—attempting to violate the federal neutrality by lending aid to one or another of the warring nations in Europe.”
“That is untrue.”
“I have nothing at all to do with that. My instructions are simply to place a man on guard over this vessel and to escort you gentlemen to the secretary of state at Washington.”