ecome
crafty before others.

It is a common way with many newspapers to leap on a man and trounce him,
figuratively speaking, and then to send reporters around to see how the
victim has enjoyed the flaying.

That was what happened to John Rhinds.

Within half an hour after the newspapers had come to him a message over
the telephone from the hotel office informed the president of the Rhinds
Submarine Company that a reporter was below who wished to interview Mr.
Rhinds.

"Ah! Er--huh!" choked the wretch, swallowing hard. "Have the young
gentleman shown up, of course. And send up any other reporters who may
ask for me."

By the time that the first reporter reached the door Rhinds had carefully
removed all traces of the torn newspapers. The old man was calm. He
even smiled slightly, though he affected to be stung to the soul by the
thought that any American could think that he, or any of his party
aboard the "Thor" could have been guilty of such a fearful attempt of
crime.

"But of course, young man," urged Rhinds, suavely, "you will be able,
through the great power of the press for right, to set all suspicions
at rest. You will, I beg of you, give renewed publicity to the fact that
we were found to have our full number of torpedoes aboard. That one
fact, of course, disposes of any suspicion that we could have thought
of doing such a fearful thing."

The reporter was young, but he was not lacking in shrewdness. This
boyish-looking journalist had interviewed smooth-talking scoundrels
before.

"There is one little point I would like to inquire about, Mr. Rhinds,"
hinted this reporter, chewing at the end of his pencil.

"A dozen--a hundred points--anything you want to know!" protested the
man who was being interviewed.

"Thank you," nodded the reporter, coolly. "Now, it is a well-established
fact that you had your full number of torpedoes aboard, when the naval
officers searched. But have you any place on board the 'Thor' that
would serve as a hiding place for an extra torpedo--an extra torpedo
that might, let us say, have been obtained in any one of a number of
ways?"

John C. Rhinds began to feel great waves of chill passing up and down
his spine. Hang this smiling, boyish reporter! Rhinds began to feel
that he hated this young man next to Jack Benson!

"No!" shouted the interviewed one, hoarsely, angrily. "We have no such
hiding place on board. We have no place that could be used for hiding
a