after the outer door had
closed. Then he added, with a sigh: "That's the worst of catching spies,
under such laws as we have in this country. Rarely are we able to
punish them as they deserve."

"He won't come back, will he?" asked Jack.

"Not for a while, anyway. We have made the fellow nervous, and he will
give us a wide berth for a considerable time."

"Why don't you hit all these people the hardest kind of a blow?" demanded
young Benson.

"I wish I knew how to," sighed Trotter.

"Then spoil them with too much publicity," proposed the submarine
captain. "Let the whole country know all about them and their records,
and just how they look."

"If I could! But how am I to do it?"

"Why, there's a writer here at Spruce Beach," Jack continued; "a man
named Hennessy. Let him write all the facts of this whole story, or
such of the facts as you want made public. Let Hennessy have the
photographs of this spy crew. He can print the yarn in his newspaper
and in some magazine, and can use all the photos. Then these people
will find themselves so well known that about all of them value as spies
will be gone."

"By Jove, but that's a clear-headed idea," muttered Trotter, rising from
his chair. "It will do the trick, too. Where is this man, Hennessy?"

"Stopping at the Clayton, sir."

"Packwood, will you go over and get that reporter?" asked Mr. Trotter,
turning to his associate.

In the next minute Jack was telling Trotter of the fire-incident and the
envelope that Mlle. Nadiboff had given him. By the time the submarine
boy had finished his recital Jacob Farnum hurried in.

"That stuff," he reported, "is morphine sulphate, and the druggist says
there was enough of it to take you clear out of this world and into the
next."

"Hm! That Nadiboff woman!" muttered Trotter. "She has been as dangerous
as any of them, and yet it is hard to be rough with her after her one
act of gratitude to you, Benson. I could see that she went north on
the train, of course, but she'd be liable to suspicion and punishment
by some of the members of the gang of that infernal Gaston. He has yet
other men, I suspect, who may be watching the trains further on, and
Mlle. Nadiboff, after saving you, Benson, from their latest death trap,
might run right into their vengeance. She ought to be gotten away from
here by some other means."

"She can be--by ship," hinted Jack, quietly.

"Let me see," mused Trotter. "Yes; that can be