CHAPTER VII
A LESSON IN SECURITY AND INFORMATION
Despite the savageness of his utterance Millard continued to gazethoughtfully, for a few moments, at the submarine boy's face.
As the rascal gazed, however, a grayness came into his cheeks that,somehow, smote Captain Jack with secret terror.
"I--I don't see how it can be helped," gasped Millard, at last, in analtered tone that came as another dash of ice water over the submarineboy. "Benson, I hate to do it. I'd hate to use a dog in such a way,but--but there's no help for it!"
A long-drawn-out sigh, a still queerer look in his face, then thescoundrel broke forth again:
"It's your own fault, after all, boy, and there's no help for it."
"By and by I suppose you'll enlighten me as to what 'it' means?" hintedJack, trying hard to bolster up a courage that, none the less, wouldooze and drop.
Millard's only answer was to bend over the boy and roll him somewhat inexamining the prisoner's bonds. It was through this that Jack discoveredwhat he had not known before--namely, that his wrists, besides beingbound behind his back, were also lashed fast to something in theflooring.
There was a queer little choke in Millard's breathing as he went out ofthe room and returned with a bushel basket of shavings. These hedumped on the floor, close to a wall. Then, again, he went out. Whenhe returned he was carrying a can of coal-oil. The contents he pouredover the shavings, then against the wall. Next, over the shavings, heheaped three or four newspapers.
Jack Benson didn't ask questions. Millard went at it all in such abusiness-like way that the submarine boy felt the words sticking inhis throat; they couldn't be uttered.
Finally, when all else was ready, Millard took the lighted candle outof the candlestick.
"This candle will burn for thirty minutes yet," guessed the wretch,noting its unburned length with the air of an expert "That will be timeenough. Poor lad!"
He set the lighted candle down on top of the papers, over the pile ofoil-soaked shavings. It fitted nicely into a place that the wretchhad made ready for it. Then, without a word, the long-legged onetip-toed softly over and bent beside the submarine boy.
"Open your mouth," he ordered.
Of course Captain Jack didn't propose to do anything of the sort. Withone hand, however, Millard gripped the boy's nostrils, pressing tightly.Just a little later Jack had to open his mouth for air.
"Thank you," mocked the other, and neatly shoved a handkerchief betweenthe boy's jaws. This he tied in place, and rising, looked down upon agagged foe. Then, with a last look over at the candle, the long-leggedone darted from the room.
Left alone, Jack Benson watched that candle on top of the prepared heap.His eyes gleamed with the fascination of terror. When that candleburned down to the right point it would set fire to the paper, andthen--!
Try as he would to bolster his grit, Captain Jack Benson found himselfin a fearful plight. At first, he could only stare, with terror-dilatedeyes, at that candle--ever burning just a slight fraction shorter!
While the horror-laden moments were dragging by Jack heard a step onthe stairs behind his head. Then he realized that some one was lookinginto the room. Then a voice spoke. It was Millard's, though scarcelyrecognizable on account of its huskiness.
"It's a fearful thing to do, Benson, but--but I can't help it! If youonly knew what it means to me to win!"
Then followed a moment of utter silence. Jack could hear his own heartbeating, as he fancied he could hear that of his persecutor. Thenthere was another sound, as though some light-weight metallic objecthad fallen to the floor.
"Good-bye, old chap! I--I respect you for your calm grit--that'sall I can say."
There was the sound of a quick turn, then soft footsteps. Jack knewthat Millard had fled.
"He respects me for my 'calm grit'!" laughed Jack, grimly--almosthysterically. "Doesn't the scoundrel know that I'm all but frozeninto the torpor of dread?"
Then, just as suddenly, an anguished "oh!" broke from the boy's lips, tobe followed, instantly, by a tremor of hope.
For, except at the time when interrupted by Millard's return, the youngsubmarine captain had been fighting savagely at the bonds behind hisback. Now, he fancied, he heard or felt a single strand giving way.
"I've got to get out of this quickly, if at all!" quavered the boy,staring with wavering eyes at the ever-shortening candle-bit. "Therewon't be anything left to do--except bear it--if I'm ten minuteslonger at this all but hopeless task."
After a few frenzied moments of struggle there was another "r-r-rip"behind him--close to his wrists.
Now, young Benson fought with rage and frenzied strength. His gaze wasever toward the candle, burning lower. It seemed as if it mustcommunicate its flame to the paper at any instant.
There came another ripping sound. Captain Jack Benson, though hecould not see, felt something giving around his wrists. Franticallyhe squirmed and twisted with his hands. Then, suddenly, his wristsfell apart--free!
With an exulting throb of gratitude for this well-nigh unexpected boon,Benson forced himself up into a sitting posture. He was shaking, now,from sheer nervousness.
Swiftly, tremulously, he felt in his pockets.
"My long-legged friend never thought to take my knife--probably becausehe hadn't the slightest idea I'd be able to use it," thrilled thesubmarine boy, as he forced a blade open.
It didn't seem to take an instant, now, to cut the cords and set hisfeet free. Jack staggered to his feet. The lighted candle had burneddown, now, even more perilously close to the paper--but what did thesubmarine boy care now? At the worst, he could easily run from thishouse which, he felt certain, was untenanted save for himself.
As soon as he could steady himself well enough, Benson bent and snatchedup the burning candle from the tinder-like bed on which it stood propped.
"Instead of destroying me," he chuckled, "this candle will now light meon my way out."
At the doorway at the end of the room Jack Benson, by some strangechance, happened to remember that slight metallic sound of somethingfalling to the floor while Millard was speaking. Now, Jack bent over,holding the candle to aid him in his hunt. Ah! There it was! Yet howutterly insignificant--nothing but a hairpin!
"Trifles often lead to something big, though," muttered the submarineboy, dropping the hairpin into his pocket. "I've been too much aroundmachinery to despise small things."
Candle in hand, Jack quickly ascended through the rest of the house,after finding, in the lower hallway, a stout stick that he picked up.With this club he felt he had a weapon to be depended upon at need.
But there was nothing in the rest of the little three-story house tothrow any light upon the habits of Millard, or the place for whichthat worthy had departed.
In one upper room Benson found a small mirror hung from a nail in thewall. In this same room was a small trunk, lid up and empty.
Back to the basement Jack returned. At the rear he found a small yard.Beyond that a fence, with a gate in it. The gate was unlocked. On anail at the edge of the gateway Jack found a fluttering fragment ofgray veiling.
"A woman has left here," thought Jack, holding the fragment of veilingin his hand. "Or else Millard got away disguised as a woman. Thattrunk may have held woman's apparel for the very purposes of such anescape."
This rear gateway opened upon a long, narrow alley that led to a streetbeyond.
Having satisfied himself on this point, Benson stepped back into theyard.
"Hold on! Here's something that will help," muttered the boy, staringdown curiously at the ground.
It was the imprint of a foot in a wet spot on the ground. As Jack bentover it he saw the marks of diagonal criss-crossing such as is foundin the soles of rubbers.
"The print is a fresh one. Either Millard wore rubbers away, or somewoman has been here who wore them," Jack concluded.
Dropping his cudgel, since he would have no use for it, Ben
son made hisway down the alley to the street beyond. At the corner stood a smallgrocery store, whose proprietor was in the doorway.
"I wonder," began Jack, "whether you saw a woman came down out of thisalley-way lately? A tall woman?"
"About twenty minutes ago I saw a tall woman, in a gray dress andwearing a gray veil," replied the storekeeper.
"Was she carrying anything?"
"Some sort of a grip--a suit case, I guess."
"Did you ever see the woman before?" persisted Jack.
The storekeeper shook his head.
"Which way did the woman go?"
"I don't remember, particularly, but I think down that way," replied thegrocer, pointing.
Jack hurried along. It was a quiet part of the town. None of the peopleto whom he spoke within the next three or four minutes remembered havingseen the tall, veiled woman in gray, though some "thought" they"might have."
"I reckon," wisely decided Captain Jack Benson, "that I know just aboutenough to take my information to Lieutenant Ridder."