“And whatever they set you to doing, put your mind on your work first of all. Keep your eyes and ears open—there’s no law against that—but do your work. It’s only in dime novels that youngsters like you are generals and captains and famous detectives.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tom.
“What I mean is, don’t get any crazy notions in your head. You may land in the Secret Service yet. But meanwhile keep your feet on the earth—or the ship. Get me?”
Tom was sensible enough to know that this was good advice.
“Your finding these letters was clever. If there are any spies in the camps they’ll be rounded up double quick. As for spy work at sea, I’ll tell you this, though you mustn’t mention it, there are government sleuths on all the ships—most of them working as hands.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tom.
“I’m going across on a fast ship to-morrow myself,” continued Mr. Conne, greatly to Tom’s surprise. “I’ll be in Liverpool and London and probably in France before you get there. There’s a bare possibility of you seeing me over there.”
“I hope I do,” said Tom.
The transport Montauk was one of the many privately owned steamers taken over into government service, and Tom soon learned that outside the steward’s department nearly all the positions on board were filled by naval men. Mr. Conne presented him to the steward, saying that Tom had made a trip on a munition carrier, and disappeared in a great hurry.
Tom could not help feeling that he was one of the least important things among Mr. Conne’s multitudinous interests, and it must be confessed that he felt just a little chagrined at finding himself disposed of with so little ceremony.