ined, of course, Monsieur Darrin," Surigny
continued, "that the submarine was not lost, but concealed at a point
somewhere along the shores of the Mediterranean until wanted. So far
ahead do some enemies plot! Where the submarine has remained during
the interval I do not know, but I do know that, submerged only deep
enough for concealment, she has been towed to these waters recently by
relays of fishing boats manned by Maltese traitors to Britain. Ah,
those rascally Maltese! They know no country and they laugh at
patriotism. They worship only the dollar, and are ever ready to sell
themselves! And the submarine will endeavor to sink the British
battleship to-night!"

"To-night!" gasped Darrin, now thoroughly aroused.

"To-night," Surigny nodded, sadly, his face ghastly pale. "Even the
yacht that carries the plotters is here."

"These are hardly the times," Dave remarked, "when it would seem to
any naval commander a plausible thing for a yacht to cruise in the
submarine-infested Mediterranean. And, if the plotters are using and
directing the movements of a yacht, I am unable to see how they could
obtain clearance papers from any port."

"Oh, the yacht's sailing papers are correct," Surigny declared,
eagerly. "The yacht has Russian registry and is supposed to be sold to
Japanese buyers to be put in trade between the United States and
Japan, carrying materials from which the Japanese make Russian
munitions of war. So you will see how plausible it is to be engaged in
transferring a Russian yacht to Japanese registry at this time."

"Humph!" grunted Darrin. "It seems a stupid thing, indeed, for any
Japanese shipping firm to buy a low, narrow craft, like the typical
yacht, to convert her into a freighter."

"Ah, but the yacht is neither low nor narrow," replied Surigny. "She
is a craft of some three thousand tons, broad of beam and with plenty
of freeboard."

"What flag does she fly?" Dave asked.

"That I do not know," was the Count's answer. "It may be that she does
not fly any. Two of her passengers are reported to be a Russian prince
and a Japanese marquis. But Monsieur Mender is not a Russian at all,
and no more a prince than he is a Russian. As for the Japanese, he is
merely a Filipino, once a mess attendant in your Navy, and now a
deserter, for he hates your country."

"When will the yacht reach these waters?" Dave inquired.

"As I have said, she is here already, or as near as she will come,"
the Frenchman c