As he was walking briskly toward the hotel, an athletic-looking young man stepped out suddenly, from behind of the big trees, blocking the submarine boy's path.

"Good evening, Mr. Drummond," Jack hailed, quietly.

"Now, you halt and stand right where you are," retorted the Englishman, nervously handling a heavy walking stick that he carried. "I don't know whether it's going to be a good evening for you, or not, young man. Do you know that your cursed meddling has resulted in the arrest of a most estimable young woman?"

"Who?" asked Jack, coolly.

"Miss Peddensen," replied Drummond, angrily.

"Oh, I guess the secret service men know what they're about," said Jack somewhat sarcastically.

"And I know what I'm about, too!" roared the enraged Drummond, raising his cane, wrathfully. "Benson, you young sneak, I'm going to brain you!"

CHAPTER XVII

DRUMMOND'S LITTLE SURPRISE--FOR HIMSELF

It didn't happen just that way.

As Drummond swung his cane and brought it down with crushing force, aimed at the submarine boy's head, Jack wasn't there.

Instead, Benson sprang about two feet to one, side. It would have been a fearful blow had Jack's head been in the way. As it was, the cane hit the ground with such force as to be thrown from the Englishman's hand.

With a growl, the fellow leaped forward and s.n.a.t.c.hed up his stick. Jack Benson stood leaning carelessly against a tree, in a way that enraged Drummond all the more.

"I'll show you!" snarled the Englishman. With that he aimed a blow, sideways, at Benson's head Jack ducked, then dodged out. The cane hit the tree with a force that jarred the a.s.sailant and all but dislocated his wrist. Again he dropped the stick.

Benson gave a hearty ringing laugh and this enraged the Englishman past endurance. Then Jack added, "Is that the best you can do?"

"I'll show you!" roared the other, making a leap forward. He charged straight at the submarine boy, who wheeled and darted on toward hotel.

"Don't run, you coward!" came the flying taunt.

Just then Jack Benson fell, though he did it on purpose. Straight in the path of the irate Englishman the submarine boy dropped, curling himself up.

It was too late for Drummond to halt, or to change his course. He tripped over prostrate young Benson, then lurched forward landing on his face.

Up sprang Jak Benson, planting two sterling good kicks.

"You beast! Wait until I get up!" roared the victim, in a voice like a bull's bellow.

"What's the matter here?" demanded an astonished voice, and Mr. Trotter, after a short dash, bounded through the darkness, arriving on the scene just as Drummond was getting up.

"This fellow--" began Jack.

"'Fellow'?" broke in Drummond, angrily.

"This fellow," Jack continued, calmly, "accused me of causing Miss Peddensen's arrest, and promised to brain me."

"Too bad you've allied yourself with that young woman," muttered Mr.

Trotter looking keenly into the Englishman's face.

"What d'ye mean?" demanded Drummond.

"Miss Peddensen turns out to be a well-known military and naval spy, though she hasn't operated in this country before in five years,"

replied Mr. Trotter, coolly. "However, she has been caught trying to steal the secrets of the submarine boat, and she's under arrest. My side partner, Packwood, is now engaged in unraveling a cipher that was taken from her."

"That's an impudent lie," a.s.serted the Englishman, hotly.

"No it isn't," laughed Mr. Trotter. "It's a Secret Service fact."

"I'm going to go to Miss Peddensen, now, then," a.s.serted Drummond.

"Right-o," drawled Trotter, so significantly that Drummond shot a quick look at the officer, demanding:

"What d'ye mean by that?"

"I'm going to take you to Miss Peddensen," returned the Secret Service man.

"I'll go all the way to Washington, by tonight's express, to see the young lady freed from this outrageous mistake," stormed the Englishman.

"I don't know about your going to Washington--to-night," replied Trotter, yawning.

"What have you to do with that?" demanded Drummond, harshly.

"Why, I reckon, Mr. Drummond, you're my prisoner. You won't very easily go anywhere to-night, without my consent."

"Your prisoner?" demanded the Englishman angrily.

"Yes."

"By what right do you arrest me! What have I done?"

"Well, for one thing, you've tried to injure the captain of the submarine boat, all because he caught your woman friend at strange tricks on board the 'Benson.' For another reason, because we suspect anyone who defends or upholds the spy. Be good enough to step along with me, Mr. Drummond."

"I'll do nothing of the sort," blurted the astounded Englishman

"You'll go all the same," warned Mr. Trotter, first of all displaying his Secret Service badge, next running a hand back briefly to a revolver that rested in a hip pocket. "I don't much care, Drummond, whether you walk with me, or whether I have to send for an ambulance to bring you along. But you'll go just where I want you to."

The Englishman was too much terrified to reply. Two or three times he opened his mouth as though to speak, but, instead, merely swallowed.

"Come, now--forward march" advised Mr. Trotter. Drummond, without allowing himself to hesitate, went away at the side of the Secret Service man.

"Don't you want your cane?" called Jack Benson. Drummond did not condescend to answer, so the submarine boy slipped back to the tree, where he found the stick. It was a handsome piece of polished partridge wood, surmounted by a handsomely wrought head of gold.