GALLANT, EVEN TO THE FOE!
"You may have him now," announced Captain Jack, ironically. "I reckon he has spoken his piece."
Trotter's answer was to leap upon the Frenchman, pinioning his arms behind him. Packwood snapped handcuffs over the prisoner's wrists.
"Here is the bullet that Hastings dug out of the tree—the one that was probably fired at me," added Captain Jack. "And here is M. Lemaire's cane-pistol. You can see whether the bullet fits the cane."
Trotter took them, with a swift, admiring look at Benson's cool, handsome face.
Then, guiding their prisoner, the Secret Service men moved off hastily, for two or three hundred beach walkers had just discovered that something exciting had happened, and were hurrying forward.
Lemaire was forced into the buggy and driven rapidly away. Once out of sight the Secret Service men turned, driving straight for the local jail.
Before anyone in the excited crowd could ask what had happened the submarine people had vanished.
These four hurried to a room that Mr. Farnum had reserved while they remained at Spruce Beach.
"What was it that rascally Frenchman whispered to you?" demanded the shipbuilder.