ident, the submarine behaving
perfectly on the surface. Indeed, all aboard were highly delighted
with the new boat. Jack was still at the wheel as they glided into the
little harbor. Anchor was dropped and power shut off for the night.

"You three boys may as well stay aboard for the night," suggested Mr.
Farnum, as the night watchman of the yard appeared, coming out in a
row-boat. "In fact, you may as well live aboard, and use the pantry
and galley for all your meals."

"Shall we keep watch through the night, sir?" asked Jack.

"No need. Let the yard watchman do that. It isn't far from daylight.
Get yourselves some coffee in the galley, have a good rub-down, spread
your clothing to dry, and turn in in the state-rooms."

Grant Andrews went ashore with the builder and the inventor. The first
thing the submarine boys did was to start coffee in the galley.
Next they rubbed down, got into dry underclothing, then sat down
over their coffee.

For some minutes they discussed the mystery of the night, making all
manner of guesses. At last, however, they lay down in the berths of
the state-rooms, and were soon sound asleep.

Nor did any of them wake until Jack opened his eyes in the forenoon,
when he heard someone coming down the spiral stairway.

"You boys awake?" bellowed the wrathful voice of Mr. Farnum. Instantly,
almost, two state-room doors were yanked open, while the builder went
on:

"Oh, that was a fine trick that was played on us last night. As soon
as I opened my eyes this morning I telephoned to Sebogue. I got the
whole story. Arthur Miller is a defaulter to the tune of a very large
fortune. He must have had the cash in that satchel. And he made us
tools of his! Made us aid him in his flight, and put him beyond the
reach of the law! Oh, if I should ever get my hands on that rascal
again!"

It was plain that the boatbuilder was angry all the way through. He
stamped in a temper. As quickly as the boys could get on their clothing
they came out to hear the rest of the story.

"Arthur Miller," resumed Mr. Farnum, angrily, "was supposed to be a
rich man, and at one time no doubt he was. But he got into speculation.
He was guardian of the fortune of his orphaned niece, Grace Desmond, a
very sweet girl whom I've seen. Miller must have lost some of her
fortune in his mad speculations. At any rate, he tried fearfully hard
to marry his son, Fred, to her. I suppose he felt that if Miss Desmond