“Not from what I have heard,” rejoined the gray-haired man with conviction; “had it not been for you the vanishing-gun device would have been stolen, and possibly Mr. Peregrine’s life sacrificed. But now, perhaps, it is time that I made myself known to you. My name is Daniel Dancer.”
“The Daniel Dancer?” exclaimed Jack, astonishment appearing in his eyes. Tom’s round and rubicund countenance was alight with the same eager surprise as they awaited the answer.
“I believe that I have been referred to as The Daniel Dancer,” was the quiet rejoinder. “You appear to have heard of me before.”
CHAPTER II.
THE “WHITE SHARK.”
“Who hasn’t heard of Daniel Dancer?” cried Tom enthusiastically. “Why, as dad used to say, your name is almost a household word in the field of invention.”
The gray-haired man regarded him quizzically.
“Possibly it is,” he rejoined, “but at the present moment I am as much at sea regarding a mechanical problem as any tyro.”
He nodded his head in the direction of the model-bestrewn table.
“What I meant to make the crowning achievement of my career, my diving torpedo boat, the White Shark, is at present at a dead standstill.”