After some time spent in patient work Hal dug out a steel-jacketed bullet, short and of small calibre.
"You want to find the man with a weapon that bullet fits, and then make it warm for him," advised one man in the front rank of the crowd.
"Why?" queried Captain Jack, coolly, examining the missile, then dropping it carelessly into his pocket. "Some fellow fired an accidental shot, very likely, and is at this moment the most scared man at Spruce Beach. What's the use of jumping on anyone just because he had a moment of carelessness?"
"That's right, young level-head!" nodded another man, approvingly.
Messrs. Farnum and Pollard hung back somewhat. They were near enough to hear and see, and they had their instant suspicions. But the crowd knew nothing of the spy outrages, and it was not necessary to inform strangers.
So, within a few minutes the crowd broke up, straying off in quest of something more interesting. The submarine party kept on up to the hotel porch.
"That was a revengeful move, pure and simple," declared Jacob Farnum, in a low voice.
"Of course," assented Jack. "It's going to be something of a task though, to find out, for certain, just who fired that shot."
Even as the four stood there on the veranda a door opened, and M.
Lemaire, faultlessly attired for an afternoon stroll, stepped out.
"Ah, good afternoon, gentlemen," was his unconcerned greeting, as he recognized the quartette.