"Where do you think we are, Holcomb?" Matt asked. "It can't be we're on the Crescent."
"Sure not. Looks to me as though we had been brought aboard Captain Nemo, Jr.'s boat, the Grampus. She bobbed up at the Inlet wharf yesterday. I'm on night duty at the Inlet, and I seen her last night."
"The Grampus?" echoed Matt. "She must be an ironclad."
"She's more'n that, Motor Matt. She's a submarine."
"A submarine! I haven't heard of such a boat being in Atlantic City."
"It ain't gen'rally known, I guess. Captain Nemo, Jr., is a queer sort of a fish, and he's invented a boat that he claims is a little better than any other under-water boat that was ever built. I talked with him on the wharf, last night. Who the cap'n is, nobody knows, and he hides himself under the name of Nemo, Jr. He talked straight enough, and fair enough, and allowed he was keeping quiet so as not to let reporters and other curious people bother him while he was in Atlantic City. It was your air ship that caused him to come here."
"The air ship?" queried Matt, more and more mystified.
"That's what he told me. Everything in the line of inventions, he says, interests him, especially if the inventions have anything to do with gasoline motors. This boat is run by a motor of that kind. Nemo, Jr., said he was goin' to take a fly with you to-day."
"I guess he didn't, then. No man by that name went up with us. But the point that's bothering me is, Holcomb, why were we brought here?"
"To save Jurgens, the movin'-picture man."