David Pollard counted up to fifteen.

"He must have had time to get clear of the boat," quivered the inventor.

"Now, captain, take us to the surface."

In a twinkling, almost, the "Pollard" was riding the waves.

"There's Eph, dancing up and down on the beach," reported Captain Jack, from the conning tower.

"It worked like a charm," chuckled Eph Somers, gleefully, as soon as the others had joined him on sh.o.r.e. "That little charge of compressed air shot me out of the tube, and up I bounded to the surface, like a piece of cork."

"Now, we really lead the whole world in submarine boating," cried Mr.

Farnum, hoa.r.s.ely. "I don't care what any other inventor may have discovered, I'm satisfied that no one else can a boat as safe for the crew as the good little old 'Pollard' is!"

So happy did all of the five feel, in fact, that they shook hands gleefully, all around. Then, while Eph rowed out to the craft to dry himself and get into uniform, Jacob Farnum ran to the machine shops, there sounding several sharp, triumphant blasts on the steam whistle.

The whole affair--Eph's escape to the surface, the joy of the submarine, party and the blowing of the whistle, were all noted by a spy whom Don Melville had set to the task of watching the Farnum crowd.

Don was equally well aware that David Pollard had been working day and night in his room at Mr. Farnum's house.

"They've discovered something that pleases them mightily," thought Don, sick with rage. "What can it be? I'm going to know, if money has still any power to buy other men's services."

"Jack Benson may be very happy now," muttered Don, vindictively, "but his joy shall soon be turned to ashes--or worse."

Nor was Don Melville speaking by mere guesswork. His ign.o.ble nature had evolved the whole plan by which Jack was to be ruined. Don even stooped to use his father as an innocent tool in a series of rascally deceptions.

"I got word that you wanted to see me at once," said Broughton Emerson, dropping in upon Mr. Melville that afternoon at the hotel.

"I certainly do," returned Mr. Melville, leading the way to an inner room. "Emerson, you remember my telling you that Farnum's crew are wholly willing to sell out their people if the price is big enough?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Would you like to see that proved?"

"By all means, if it can be," replied Mr. Emerson, a look of keen anxiety in his eyes, for he had finally determined to use his own judgment and invest heavily in the Farnum submarine enterprise.

"Will you consent to doing a little watching with me?" asked Mr.

Melville.

"What's in the wind?"

"To-night, at eleven o'clock, on a lonely bit of road well out of town,"

replied George Melville, "young Captain John Benson has agreed to meet my son, Don."

"For what purpose?"

"Pollard has recently perfected a submarine boat device of the greatest practical value. Young Benson has promised Don to steal the drawings and descriptions pertaining to that device, and to turn them over to Don, for a price, of course!"

"It's horrible--unspeakable!" gasped Mr. Emerson, indignantly.

"Of course. But I want you to understand the kind of crowd that surrounds Farnum. It will be a guide to you in investing with those people. If you go with me, to the appointed place, ahead of time, and we hide close enough to witness the whole transaction, then you'll believe all that I've been telling you, won't you?"

"Of course," nodded Mr. Emerson, speaking thickly. His whole soul revolted at the treachery of such a transaction, which made him add:

"But won't you and your son, Melville, be in as bad a light through profiting by such infernal treachery?"

"We would, if we _did_ profit," replied George Melville, flushing.

"However, as soon as Don has dismissed the young blackguard, Benson, my son will touch a lighted match to the papers and burn them all, with yourself looking on. What do you say, Emerson?"

"It's a mean kind of business to take any part in," protested Broughton Emerson, hoa.r.s.ely. "But--yes, I'll go, for if such things can be done it is my duty to myself to know."

Plans were thereupon made for the meeting in the evening. Broughton Emerson, honorable and broad-minded went away from that meeting heavy of heart. He hated the whole business, and yet he admitted to himself that he must know the truth ere he invested a fortune in other folks'

business game. Yet, weighed down by the sickening feeling that, at best, he was about to play the spy, Mr. Emerson presently called up Jacob Farnum on the telephone.

"Farnum," he said, "I understand that something is to happen, to-night, that you and I ought to know."

"What is it?" asked the boatbuilder, alive with curiosity.

"I'll give you a chance to find out, to-night, but you must pledge me your word that you won't breathe a word of this, until afterwards, to anyone, not even to Pollard. Just come along and learn what you learn, then act as you please. Will you agree to that?"

"Yes," promised Mr. Farnum.

"Good enough. Then be at--" Broughton Emerson followed with directions for late the coming evening. He did not explain who was to be spied upon, or anything of the nature of the business, though he did add:

"Don't be surprised, Farnum, no matter whom you see me with. It's all a part of the night's walk. Just follow us both, without letting your presence be known at any stage. I know this all sounds mysterious, but believe me, it's going to be vastly worth your while."

The remainder of the afternoon the boatbuilder's heart was, somehow, heavy with undefined dread as to what he was to learn that night.

In the middle of the afternoon, Don Melville, with the aid of one of his father's Italian workmen, laid the last stone in the edifice of trickery that he was building for the crushing of Jack Benson.

"Jack was coming down the street from the village, when his steps were arrested by the sound of a sharp:

"Hist!"

Turning, he saw an Italian workman, beckoning mysteriously. Jack went curiously up to him.

"I have message for you--you alone," whispered the Italian, speaking fairly good English. "You are in danger of great meanness. One of your enemies plots it."

"You're one of the Melville workmen, aren't you?" asked Captain Jack, looking curiously at the fellow.

"Yes, and you have bad, wicked enemies over at our place."

"I guess that may be true enough," smiled Jack, grimly.

"Some of us are bad over there, and some honest," went on the Italian.

"Some of us hate much to see dirty work done, and I have friend who works also for Melville. My friend knows all about what Don would do against you. It is wicked--very. Meet my friend, to-night, at nine o'clock, and he will tell you all--everything. I cannot tell you now. But you will meet my friend?"

"Yes, I guess I will," nodded Jack Benson.

"But you must go alone; not tell your odder friends. Until you have seen my friend you must keep all this gr-reat secret."