handed, with drawings, cipher and all."

"Will she be imprisoned?" inquired Captain Jack.

"Well, that isn't the usual way," replied Trotter. "The young woman is
more likely to be taken to New York, given a passage ticket across the
ocean, and notified that, if she tries to return to this country, she
will find that her photograph is on file at every port of entry. It
will spoil her games, without making much of a fuss."

The cutter waiting alongside conveyed Kimball and his brother officer,
Featherstone, back to the gunboat. Then it ran into shore; putting Mr.
Trotter and his silent companion once more on land.

For some minutes after that Jack, Hal and Eph remained absorbed in the
pictures in this album of known naval spies. There were more than two
dozen of these photographs, some of men, some of women. On the same
page with each picture was given the subject's true name, if known,
also the spy's aliases, and other information.

"Sara Nadiboff, twenty-nine, yet looks like twenty," muttered Hal,
studying the information under the young Russian woman's photograph.

"And Kamanako is really Lieutenant Osuri," muttered Jack. "Yet the
fellow was working in the hotel kitchen until he could get a chance
to apply for a job on this craft."

"I don't recognize any other spies among these pictures," muttered
Hal. "The only ones here that we know we had already guessed."

"Look at that time," muttered Jack, jumping up. "I must get on shore
and see what Mr. Farnum's orders are. And--" thrusting the album
in his coat pocket and buttoning it up, "I'll take this picture gallery
along. Our employer will be highly interested in it."

It was dusk by the time that Benson reached the platform deck. After
a few moments he succeeded in hailing a harbor boat. Yet it was quite
dark by the time that Captain Jack stepped on shore.

Instead of going around by the road Jack decided to cross the grounds.
As he was walking briskly toward the hotel, an athletic-looking young
man stepped out suddenly, from behind of the big trees, blocking the
submarine boy's path.

"Good evening, Mr. Drummond," Jack hailed, quietly.

"Now, you halt and stand right where you are," retorted the Englishman,
nervously handling a heavy walking stick that he carried. "I don't know
whether it's going to be a good evening for you, or not, young man. Do
you know that your cursed meddling has resulted in the arrest of a most
estimable young woman?"