oon, Don Melville, with the aid of one of his
father's Italian workmen, laid the last stone in the edifice of
trickery that he was building for the crushing of Jack Benson.

"Jack was coming down the street from the village, when his steps were
arrested by the sound of a sharp:

"Hist!"

Turning, he saw an Italian workman, beckoning mysteriously. Jack went
curiously up to him.

"I have message for you--you alone," whispered the Italian, speaking
fairly good English. "You are in danger of great meanness. One of your
enemies plots it."

"You're one of the Melville workmen, aren't you?" asked Captain Jack,
looking curiously at the fellow.

"Yes, and you have bad, wicked enemies over at our place."

"I guess that may be true enough," smiled Jack, grimly.

"Some of us are bad over there, and some honest," went on the Italian.
"Some of us hate much to see dirty work done, and I have friend who works
also for Melville. My friend knows all about what Don would do against
you. It is wicked--very. Meet my friend, to-night, at nine o'clock,
and he will tell you all--everything. I cannot tell you now. But you
will meet my friend?"

"Yes, I guess I will," nodded Jack Benson.

"But you must go alone; not tell your odder friends. Until you have
seen my friend you must keep all this gr-reat secret."

After some further talk Jack Benson agreed to all this. The Italian
seemed wholly honest and earnest. Moreover, he appeared as though
greatly troubled and anxious to save the submarine boy from some
unusually mean trick.

So Jack Benson walked on, thinking deeply and wondering much. He had no
suspicion of any trap against him in the person of this seemingly very
honest Italian, and so Don Melville had succeeded in laying the last
wire of his despicable plan.

At half-past eight that fateful night Captain Jack found a pretext for
leaving his companions. Swinging out onto the road, and down past the
new Melville yard, he went on briskly to the point, well out of town,
that had been named for the meeting.

"I wonder if I'm foolish?" he thought, suddenly. "Is there any trick in
all this? But, pshaw! The Melvilles surely aren't that kind of people,
and no one else has anything against me. It's all likely enough that
Don is putting up some mean game against me down at the yard, or that
he's saying something mighty mean against me. Whatever it is, these
Italians are honest enough to feel disgusted, and they wan