After Norton had gone out, closing the door behind him, M. Lemaire carefully flecked the ash from his cigarette as he murmured to himself:

"Then it shall be Captain Benson whom we first attack! Nor do I believe I can do better than to enlist the services of Mademoiselle Sara. Ah, yes! Her eyes are fine--perfect. One looks into her eyes, and trusts her. Captain Jack Benson, you shall have the pleasure of meeting a most charming creature!"

CHAPTER III

ON THE EDGE OF THE SPIDER'S WEB

An hour after dinner the orchestra of the Hotel Clayton crashed out into the first two-step.

The big ballroom was already two thirds as well filled as it could be with comfort. Potted green palms stood everywhere at the sides. The orchestra in the gallery was nearly concealed behind a fringe of green.

The air was sweetly odorous with the fragrance of southern blossoms.

Scores of young women in all varieties of handsome evening dress enlivened the appearance of the scene. Their gems cast glitter and enchantment. There were men enough, too, for partners in the dance, the men behind expanses of white shirt-front and clad in the black of evening dress.

Just a few of the men, however, lent additional color to the scene.

These were officers and midshipmen from the "Waverly," who came attired in the handsome blue, gold-braided dress uniforms of the service.

Among the guests of the hotel who attended the dance were Jacob Farnum and his two young submarine experts; Jack Benson and Hal Hastings. The shipbuilder had come ash.o.r.e with his young friends, registering at the Clayton and taking rooms there.

"It's time for you youngsters to get ash.o.r.e and have a little gaiety,"

Farnum had declared. "If you don't mix with lively people once in a while, you'll rust even while you keep the 'Benson's' machinery bright."

Jack and Hal had agreed to this. Eph, however, had expressed himself decidedly as preferring to remain on board the submarine for the time.

Williamson, too, had elected to remain on board, and so had David Pollard, who rarely cared for anything in the social line.

On the floor, even before the music struck up, was M. Lemaire. He was in the usual black evening dress, though on his wide shirt front glistened the jeweled decoration of some order conferred upon him by a European sovereign.

A handsome and distinguished figure did M. Lemaire present. He nodded affably to many of the ladies in pa.s.sing, and the interest with which his greetings were acknowledged proved that M. Lemaire was in a gathering where he could boast many acquaintances.

Almost at the first, M. Lemaire had succeeded in having Captain Jack Benson pointed out to him. The tall, sallow man looked over the submarine boys eagerly, though covertly. He beheld them in handsome dress uniforms, very much like those worn by the naval officers, for Jacob Farnum had insisted that his young submarine officers, wherever they went must be appropriately attired.

In the throng, as M. Lemaire pa.s.sed, stood one handsomely dressed girl.

Her face, which was interestingly beautiful, had a slightly foreign look.

The jewels that she wore must have cost a fortune. The girl herself was a finished product in the arts of good breeding and grace.

As M. Lemaire approached her, this girl recognized him with a smile and a half-quizzical look.

"Ah, good evening, Mademoiselle Nadiboff," murmured M. Lemaire, as he bent low before the handsome young woman. "I am charmed."

Then he murmured, in a low tone, swiftly:

"Yonder are, the two boys. Jack Benson is the one you will interest.

You, Sara, know the arts of conversation well enough. Make him your slave, until he is willing to tell all that we want to know. Invite him to drive with you in your auto car to-morrow. But, bah! You will know how to make him talk!"

All this was said swiftly, unheard by anyone else. Then M. Lemaire, having appeared hardly to pause, pa.s.sed on.

A minute later Mademoiselle Nadiboff was chatting laughingly with Lieutenant Featherstone.

"Who are those two young men over there?" questioned the young woman.

"Are they of the Navy?"

"No, though related to us in interest," replied the lieutenant. "They are the captain and chief engineer of the submarine that arrived this afternoon. Youthful, aren't they?"

"Very," agreed Mademoiselle Sara. "But I like their faces. You will present me, will you not, Lieutenant?"

"Gladly."

So Jack and Hal found themselves bowing before the handsome young foreigner. Mlle. Sara had the appearance of being, equally interested in both of them, though she soon managed, with her social arts, in drawing somewhat aside with Jack Benson.

And then the music crashed out. One of the young woman's feet began to tap the floor, her eyes glistening.

"Entrancing music," she murmured.

"If you are not engaged for this dance--" murmured Jack, hesitatingly.

This beautiful creature seemed so superior to the usual run of the human kind that the submarine boy felt he was too presuming.

"You are very kind," replied the young woman, with a swift smile. "I shall enjoy it greatly."

Jack took one of her hands in his, resting his other hand lightly at her waist. A moment later they glided over the polished floor.

"Benson is doing famously," laughed Lieutenant Featherstone, half-enviously. "But before I think of myself, Hastings, I must seek an interesting partner for you, also."

"Kind of you," returned Hal, gratefully. "But I fear I must remain a wall-flower, or a human palm to-night. I don't know how to dance."

"You don't?" murmured Featherstone, in amazement. "Good heavens! I thought even the bootblacks knew how to dance in these modern days!"

Jacob Farnum knew how to dance, but did not care for it this evening.

He was much in love with his young wife, and, as she was not here, the ballroom floor had no attractions for him. So he and Hal retired to seats at the side of the ballroom.

"Jack is dancing with a famously pretty girl--the loveliest of many that are here to-night," smiled the shipbuilder. "I trust he won't have his head turned."

"Don't worry, sir," Hal rejoined, briefly.

The second dance, also, Jack Benson enjoyed with Mlle. Nadiboff. The young woman herself arranged that gracefully. At the end of the second dance Jack led his partner to a seat. Then she sent him for a gla.s.s of water.

Her cobwebby lace handkerchief fell to the floor. M. Lemaire, pa.s.sing at that instant, espied it, picked it up, and returned it to her with the bow of a polished man of the world.

"Flatter the young fellow! Make him dance attendance on you to the point that he forgets all else," whispered the man.

"Trust me for that," murmured the girl.

"I do." And M. Lemaire was gone, swallowed up in the increasing throng.

As Jack Benson brought the gla.s.s of water Mlle. Nadiboff sipped at it daintily. Raising her eyes so that she could read the placard now suspended from the balcony rail, she announced: