on, and between courses, this
steward approached the table to replace young Benson's water-glass,
which he had just filled.

As the steward reached out to set the glass down Jack wheeled, looking
straight into the man's eyes.

The steward returned the look and paled, then--

Crash! The glass dropped from the man's fingers, breaking to fragments
on the cabin floor.

With a softly-muttered word, the luckless steward bent, picked up the
pieces of glass and beat a hasty retreat, followed by a heavy frown
from the chief steward.

Then, all of a sudden, it flashed through the boy's mind where he had
seen this man before.

Leaning toward Jacob Farnum, the submarine boy whispered:

"You've been trying hard to find Grace Desmond's fugitive guardian."

"I don't know what I wouldn't give to come up with that rascal!" muttered
the boatbuilder fervently, his eyes blazing.

"Then I guess you're going to have your wish," continued Jack Benson.
"The man who dropped the glass is--Arthur Miller."

Uttering an eager cry, his fists clenched, Jacob Farnum started up
from his chair.

CHAPTER XXII

A DIVE THAT WAS LIKE MAGIC

"What's wrong?" demanded Admiral Bentley, looking up quickly.

"I--I beg your pardon, sir," cried Mr. Farnum, though lowering his
voice, "but I want a good look at the steward who has been attending to
this end of the table."

"Nothing will be more simple," replied the admiral.

Just at that moment another steward entered the room.

"Ask that new steward to come here," directed the admiral.

The man hastened away in search of his mate.

"Pardon me, but is there any unusual reason why you wish to see that
particular steward?" asked the admiral, in a low voice.

"The only reason, sir," replied Mr. Farnum dryly, "is that my friend,
Benson, is certain the fellow is identical with the defaulting guardian
of a young woman at present employed in my office. He is believed to
have taken the last half-million dollars remaining of her fortune away
with him into hiding."

"A half million dollars!" gasped the admiral.

"If this steward is the man we think he is, then his right name is
Arthur Miller," finished the boatbuilder.

"Why, I remember that case. I read of it in the newspapers," replied
Admiral Bentley. "Jove, gentlemen, but I hope your guess is a correct
one. There must always be a satisfaction in catching so great a rogue
so easily."

Only those at the admiral's end of the table