A BIG CLOUD ON THE SUBMARINE HORIZON
"At what time did you say that the 'Pollard' was due to be back, Mr.
Farnum?"
"At two o'clock," replied the owner of the boat-building yard at the little seaport town of Dunhaven.
"It's within five minutes of that hour, now."
"So it is," nodded the owner of the yard, after briefly consulting his watch.
For half an hour, or a little longer, a middle aged man, with the world of business and large affairs imprinted on him, had been walking to and fro along the shore end of the yard. In this walk he was accompanied by his son, a handsome, dark-eyed and dark-haired young fellow of nineteen. George Melville, the father, was attired very much as any prosperous, busy man might have been, with a touch of fastidiousness added, but the son, Don, was dressed and groomed to look just what he wanted to appear to be, the born young aristocrat.
"Punctuality is one of the cardinal virtues with me, you know," continued Mr. Melville, impatiently, as he again glanced at his watch. "I had hoped to be able to see your submarine boat, the 'Pollard,' this afternoon."
"And I certainly hope you will be able to," replied Jacob Farnum, cordially. This builder, a young man in his thirties, allowed a shade of uneasiness to flit across his face.
"However, when Don is in command of the boat," continued Mr. Melville, "things will doubtless be run on a better system. That is, if we should decide to invest the money and place Don on board as captain."
"Your son?" inquired Jacob Farnum, with a quick note of astonishment in his voice.