England, France, Germany, Austria, Russia--oh, these spies have no
country! They serve the fattest international purse!"

"Here is what we took from Miss Peddensen," said Kimball, gravely, laying
down on the table the sketchbook and the "composition."

Taking up the latter, Mr. Trotter, after a glance declared:

"This is written in a secret cipher, most likely. Packwood, this comes
in your peculiar line of work. The sketches are easy enough to
understand. They are of the mechanisms displayed in this cabin."

"Yes, this is a cipher," declared Packwood, thoughtfully, after scanning
the sheets a few moments. "With some study I can make it out."

"Who's the young Englishman who escorted Miss Peddensen?" demanded
Captain Jack.

"Never saw him until I glanced at him in the launch just now," replied
Trotter. "He may be another spy, unknown to us, or he may be merely a
good-natured and wholly innocent young chap whom the Swedish girl has
lured into her service."

"What are these other pictures?" inquired Mr. Kimball, beginning to
turn the leaves.

"All of 'em photos of people known to be engaged in stealing naval
secrets for foreign powers," replied Trotter. "Captain Benson may
keep this album for future use. I've another copy for you, Mr. Kimball."

"Why, here's a good likeness of Mlle. Nadiboff," cried Jack Benson,
pausing in turning the leaves and glancing down at the picture of a face
he had good cause to remember. "And here, opposite her, is M. Lemaire!"

"Oh, yes; they're both old offenders," nodded Trotter. "Turn along, and
see if you remember any more faces."

"Here's Gaston, who is now in jail here," nodded Jack.

"Is he, though?" asked Trotter, with interest.

"What charge?"

"Felonious assault upon Hastings and myself."

"Good," chuckled Trotter. "I shall have to see the judge privately, and
ask him to make sure that Gaston Goubet gets the longest sentence
possible. Nothing like prison bars to stop the work of these
international spies!"

"Why, here's even little Kamanako," smiled as he turned over another
page.

"Yes, and a very smooth and slippery little spy that Jap is," declared
Mr. Trotter. "He steals all kinds of secrets, from the details of
sixteen inch guns down to the method of dyeing a blanket in a mill."

"Are you going to do anything with the Peddensen woman?" inquired
Lieutenant Commander Kimball.

"Ain't I, though--just!" answered Mr. Trotter. "You caught her
red-