t 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," asserted 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," asserted 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,
wh