clump of potted palms.

Behind the palms stood a man who, once seen, was not likely to be
forgotten. He was not a handsome man. About fifty years of age, he
was unusually stout; and, though his clothing was of expensive texture,
it fitted him badly. On his upper lip was a heavy moustache, now
iron-gray. His face was red, almost bloated. There were heavy pouches
under his eyes that told of many hours of senseless, vicious dissipation.
A small wart on the left side of the man's nose emphasized his lack of
good looks. Though the face was large, the eyes were small, beady, and
often full of cunning. There was some iron-gray hair at each side of
the head; the top was bald.

This man was John C. Rhinds, head of the Rhinds Submarine Company. Three
of the boats now at anchor in Groton Bay were his--or, rather, his
company's, though John Rhinds owned nearly all of the stock in the
company.

So far, Rhinds had not succeeded in selling a submarine craft to the
Navy Department. Twice he had been on the point of a sale, but each
time the government had decided upon a Pollard boat, instead.

John C. Rhinds loved money. He was resolved, at any cost, to make the
government buy several of his boats. And he was utterly unscrupulous.

As he stood behind the palms, looking toward the group of new arrivals,
Rhinds's little eyes seemed to grow smaller. He knew the members of
this party, though none of them as yet knew Rhinds. But the cunning
man had made it his business to find out all about the people whom he
hoped to beat in the coming game.

"Here you are, Radwin!"

Mr. Rhinds almost hissed the summons, calling to his side a man of some
thirty years of age, tall, dark, handsome, slender and wearing his fine
clothes with an air of distinction.

At first glance one would be inclined to like the appearance of Fred
Radwin. A closer study of the somewhat shifty eyes and general reckless
expression might have turned one skilled in human nature against Mr.
Fred Radwin, who was secretary to the Rhinds Company.

"That's the crowd, right over there, that have sold two boats under our
noses to the Navy Department," continued Rhinds, a snarl framing about
his thick, ugly lips. "That's the crowd we've got to beat."

"Then those young chaps must be the three young submarine officers with
such fine records," remarked Fred Radwin, in an undertone.

"They are," nodded Rhinds, slowly. "They're bright youngsters, too. I
wish we