"I would beg you to keep the weapon, dear old fellow, if it would be of any use to you," replied the British officer.
And now Hal and Eph found chance to explain that they, worried by Jack Benson's disappearance, had at last started down to headquarters to see if they could learn of any mishap to him, or of any other explanation for his long absence.
"Well, it's all over now," muttered Hal. "Millard—or Graves—or whatever other name the fellow may be using at this moment—is safe in a cell downstairs."
"We thought, once before, that we had him bottled up safely," chuckled Lieutenant Jack. "Mr. Abercrombie, how am I ever going to express my thanks to you?"
"I should feel extremely insulted, dear old fellow, if you thought it necessary to thank me," retorted the Briton, heartily.
"It will be dark, soon," interposed Lieutenant Ulwin. "I suggest that the best thing any of us can do is to turn toward the club. I feel certain that the chef will have a famous dinner there to-night."
"We haven't any evening clothes, either citizen or uniform, in Washington," interposed Jack Benson, who knew something of the formalities of the service during the dinner hour.
"Come, just the same," begged Ulwin. "The members don't expect too much of fellows who are traveling."
Jack was glad of the walk, because it helped to take the stiffness out of the knee that had been struck.
"You let the cab driver go, did you!" asked Eph, as the submarine boys walked along together.