“Bob Steele’s luck,” chuckled Carl. “I vould radder be mit Bob, und haf a biece oof his luck, dan any blace vat I know. Ven he has some goot fordunes, he has to pass dem aroundt to der fellers vat iss mit him—vich means me, for I vas alvays aroundt.”
“Go on, Mr. Steele,” said Glennie. “What happened after that?”
Bob, attending to his steering and keeping an eye on the periscope, told how he had lost consciousness for a few moments, had revived, lashed the wheel, and climbed to the hatch. The rest, including how he, Dick, and Speake had made a dive for safety, came rapidly and in the fewest possible words.
“From all of which it appears,” remarked Glennie quietly, when the recital was done, “that we owe our lives to Bob Steele. But I can’t understand this Tolo business. Why was he playing the part of a chink?”
“So you wouldn’t know him,” said Bob, “and so he could still be with you.”
“But what was the use?”
“That seems plain,” went on Bob, wondering a little at the ensign’s failure to see the game that had been attempted. “As I figure it, Mr. Glennie, there is a Japanese secret society consisting of a number of misguided young men who call themselves Sons of the Rising Sun. Their government does not sanction their acts, and presumably knows nothing about them. These Independent Protectors of the Kingdom have heard of this wonderful submarine ship invented by Captain Nemo, junior, and they are well fitted to understand its possibilities in time of war.”
“Granting all that, just what has it to do with the actions of Tolo?”
“I’m coming to that. Tolo, I take it, is a member of the Young Samurai Society. No doubt the society has had spies in Central and South America. These spies reported that the Grampus had been sold to the United States government, conditional upon her making a safe passage around the Horn and up the western coast to Mare Island. I don’t suppose that the Sons of the Rising Sun were at all pleased with this information. They are enthusiasts, and probably don’t care a rap for their own lives, or for the lives of any other people, so long as they can do a good stroke of work for Nippon.”
“But Tolo,” put in the ensign impatiently, “what of him?”