"A fair draughtsman," nodded Jack.

"You could draw us a model of the boat you command. You could make drawings of all the important parts. You could supply us with explanations."

"Just what sort of explanations?" Jack asked, coolly.

M. Lemaire shot a swift, sidelong glance at the submarine boy.

"How?" demanded the Frenchman. "You do not understand yet?"

"You promised, Monsieur, to be very exact and explicit. What do you want?"

"Why, then, such drawings and such explanations that any skilled shipbuilder, from the plans you furnish us, could build another boat just like, and just as effective, as the boat you now command?"

"What do you want to do with such plans?" asked Benson.

"Why, would you care about that, if I pay you well enough?"

"Perhaps not," muttered Jack Benson. "Still, when I go into anything, I like to know all about it."

"Well, then," cried M. Lemaire, gayly, "first of all, we will come to the question of a fee to be paid you for your trouble. Such drawings and such papers you could prepare for us in two or three days, could you not?"

"I think that very likely," Jack admitted. He had thrust his hands deep down into his trousers pockets, in order to restrain his very natural impulse to spring at the Frenchman and rain blows in the latter's face.

"Two or three days' work, let us say," continued M. Lemaire. "And, for that we will pay you handsomely--ten thousand dollars in the best money of your land!"

They halted, gazing at each other. For a few seconds Jack Benson did not dare trust himself to utter a word. When he did speak, it was to ask, calmly:

"M. Lemaire, who is your master?"

"My master?" repeated the Frenchman. "I do not understand you."

"Every dog, even a dirty one," thundered Captain Jack Benson, "has a master! Who's yours?"

M. Lemaire's face became livid in an instant. His hands working convulsively, he sprang at the young submarine captain.

Mlle. Nadiboff, s.n.a.t.c.hing a riding whip from under her automobile coat, turned and ran toward them. The chauffeur s.n.a.t.c.hed up a wrench, leaping out of the automobile.

CHAPTER X

M. LEMAIRE PROVES HIS TRAINING

"You insult me!" screamed M. Lemaire, halting right under the face of Captain Jack Benson, who looked at him undaunted.

"I didn't," denied Jack. "I let you do that yourself. My congratulations, sir. You certainly know how to insult your own manhood as well as the most confirmed scoundrel could wish!"

"You insult again!" quivered M. Lemaire, his French accent a.s.serting itself. "I s'all make you pay for zat!"

He struck wildly, badly, as a Frenchman does who has no knowledge of boxing. Benson merely warded off the blow, at the same time brushing M. Lemaire back a couple of steps.

"Now, you keep away--Gaston, or whatever your name is!" warned Jack, wheeling upon the chauffeur. "If I lose my temper, some one is going to be hurt."

But that defiance served only to draw the chauffeur on. Raising the wrench, he rushed swiftly at the young submarine captain, aiming a blow at his head.

Just as might have been expected, Jack Benson wasn't there at that instant.

Instead, he dodged nimbly to one side, at the same time driving in a blow that landed under one of the chauffeur's ears. The fellow went to the ground. Swift as a flash Jack bent over him, and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the wrench, hurling it off among the trees.

Then Jack wheeled around to face Mlle. Nadiboff, bowing.

"Don't you attempt to do anything, I beg of you, Mademoiselle," Jack urged. "It would come fearfully hard to have to make even the signs of striking at a woman."

Though she did not fear physical violence from him, there was something in Benson's eyes, at just that moment, which caused the Russian woman to retreat three or four steps.

Now Jack drew himself up, for he was becoming master of himself. He at once resolved to play this game, if there was to be more of it, with greater coolness.

"I think you see, Monsieur, that I am not be frightened by your childish gymnastics," Benson uttered.

M. Lemaire, too, had forced himself to greater coolness.

"Why, Captain Benson, I might even kill, if I found it necessary,"

replied the Frenchman.

"Then don't get any notion that it's necessary," frowned the young submarine captain. "It would get you into a fearful lot of trouble, and could do you no possible good."

"But you called me a 'dog,'" pursued M. Lemaire, plaintively. "To a Frenchman that is the gr-r-r-rand insult!"

"Let it go at that, then," proposed Benson, with a pretense at amiability.

"Ah! Then you will forget what has just happened, if I will?" cried the Frenchman, eagerly. "That is admir-r-r-rable! Now, then, ten thousand dollars I have said you shall be paid for what you will furnish me. Ah, even in this rich country, one can do much with ten dollars!"

"It wouldn't be much, I'm afraid, as compared with my prospects with the Pollard Company," replied Captain Jack, with his most thoughtful air.

"Your prospects with the company?" echoed M. Lemaire. "Why, my bright young captain, your prospects with the company will continue just the same. They will never know that you have taken this little fortune from me. Ten thousand dollars! Think of that!"

"And you'd turn around and sell what I'd, give you for a half a million, very likely."

"Oh, no, no, no!" disclaimed the Frenchman, solemnly. "There would be nothing like that in it for me."

"Then no foreign government wants very badly to know about the Pollard plans," inquired Jack.

"There is no government that would pay a really great fortune for such information,". M. Lemaire a.s.sured the submarine boy.

"There is one," retorted Captain Jack, with a cunning smile.

"Which one?" demanded the Frenchman, doubtingly.