Matt shook his head.
"That's not it, Glennie. Even if the Whitehead's screws had begun to work they couldn't have caused the big tube to dance around in that unheard-of fashion. I——"
Matt, with a sudden alarming thought running through his mind, started down the steps at a run. The Frenchman shouted something. Taking his cue from Captain Pons, the Chilian also shouted. Probably it was a command for Matt to halt, but the young motorist did not construe it in that way. Pons, himself, had said that there was no cause for the arrest of Matt and Glennie, and Motor Matt believed that he was perfectly free to go wherever he wished. Just then he was tremendously eager to get aboard the Grampus.
One of the old-fashioned pistols went off with a bang like a small cannon. A lead slug screeched through the air well over Matt's head.
"Come back, Matt!" yelled Glennie. "If you don't, the next bullet may come closer to you."
Matt faced about indignantly.
"What are they shooting at me for?" he demanded.
"They don't want you to get away, just yet."
"But I've got to get away! We must get aboard the Grampus as quick as the nation will let us. Can't you understand this business, Glennie? That French submarine is in the bottom of the bay! The Japs are recovering that torpedo! You know why they want it, as well as I do."