The chief officer looked at the stranger with mingled astonishment, admiration, and doubt. Never before had he known of a diver covering a distance of more than two miles, and that without the assistance of a boat containing the necessary apparatus for supplying the submerged man with air.
"Hanged if I know what to make of it, Smithers!" he said in an aside to his leading petty officer. "Perhaps he's a spy, or one of that blooming Captain Restronguet's crowd. This beats all creation!"
"Can't we detain him on suspicion?" asked Smithers. "I'll swear he's up to no good."
"I've half a mind to," replied the chief officer dubiously. "But, you see, they'll come down on me like a hundred of bricks if I exceed my duty."
"Invite him to the station, friendly-like," suggested the petty officer, "then, while he's there, you can telephone for instructions."
"I'll try it, by smoke!" ejaculated the chief officer, and approaching the unknown he asked if he would like to dry his clothes at the coast-guard station, since his ordinary garments, owing to the exertion in a confined space, were dripping with moisture.
"No, thank you," replied the submarine pedestrian. "All I want is to get a taxi, and make myself scarce. The attentions of so large a crowd are really embarrassing, and I am a man of a very retiring disposition. Had I expected this reception I should have vastly preferred to have landed in a more secluded spot."
With that he ignored his questioners and began to roll his diving suit into as small a compass as possible.
The coastguards were on the horns of a dilemma. They feared to make an unlawful arrest, while they might be severely brought to book for allowing the stranger to slip through their fingers, but there was nothing in the King's Regulations to prevent a man landing on a public beach, whether from a boat, hydro-aeroplane, or otherwise.
Just at that instant a policeman strolled leisurely up, and scenting a charge, produced his notebook and pencil.