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Updated: June 19, 2025
Though the fellow was well supplied with money, he did not have anywhere near enough to put up the five thousand dollars cash bail demanded by Florida justice. At the jail a watch was kept to see whether Gaston would have visitors, but none came. M. Lemaire and Mlle. Nadiboff were known to be still at the hotel, but they did not go near their man in trouble.
Then he related the little scene he had just witnessed in the office, and described how Mlle. Nadiboff had walked out with him. "So the little minx was hinting at more mischief to come, was she?" demanded the shipbuilder. "Jack, I believe she's equal to it. Her crowd are anyway, if it's true that Gaston, from his cell in jail, could plan the attempt to blow the 'Benson' last night."
Then Benson turned to reach down his hand to Mlle. Sara Nadiboff, who trustingly extended her hand to him. She slipped. Jack was obliged to throw his left arm lightly around her waist in order to draw her in safety to the platform deck. Mr. Farnum, after seeing her safely aboard, vanished inside the conning tower, going below to smile quietly to himself.
"Really, she doesn't look as though a care had crossed her path." "Can you furnish me with a chauffeur, and order my car up?" Mlle. Nadiboff was inquiring. "I am very sorry, Mademoiselle, but we haven't a single chauffeur that we can spare," replied the clerk, respectfully. "Then may I rent one of your own cars, with a man to drive it?"
"It is business to go with one's employer." "Business?" repeated Mlle. Nadiboff, with an accent half of disdain. "Surely, you are not sufficiently a petty shop-keeper or serf to think always of that word, 'business!" "I fear I am," Jack nodded. "Bah! Then you will never be a success with the ladies," taunted Mlle. Nadiboff, though her eyes were laughing, challenging.
Nadiboff," cried Jack Benson, pausing in turning the leaves and glancing down at the picture of a face he had good cause to remember. "And here, opposite her, is M. Lemaire!" "Oh, yes; they're both old offenders," nodded Trotter. "Turn along, and see if you remember any more faces." "Here's Gaston, who is now in jail here," nodded Jack. "Is he, though?" asked Trotter, with interest.
Nadiboff lay in an unmoving, unconscious heap on the floor, some ten feet back from the window. She was in evening dress, as though prepared to descend to dinner. "She can't go through the line of fire in that rig," muttered Jack, even while his head reeled from the weight of smoke on his lungs. Furiously he sprang at the bed, snatching off the blankets.
The steamship lay to, lowering a side gangway, and the "Benson" ran neatly in. The transfer was made. Just as she was helped over the side Mlle. Nadiboff placed her hand in Jack's. "Good-bye, my Captain," she said, sadly. "Good-bye, Mademoiselle," answered the submarine boy. "And remember that you are done with the spies." "Forever! Again, good-bye, my Captain."
Do you feel like sending Nadiboff to Cuba, in that fashion?" "If it suits her, we'll do it," Jack replied quickly enough. "It may be very bad for her if it doesn't suit her," replied Trotter, grimly. "Well, hurry along and see if you can do it. Drummond and Miss Peddensen are going north to-night, also." As the submarine party left the house they met Packwood and Hennessy coming along.
Just as might have been expected, Jack Benson wasn't there at that instant. Instead, he dodged nimbly to one side, at the same time driving in a blow that landed under one of the chauffeur's ears. The fellow went to the ground. Swift as a flash Jack bent over him, and snatched up the wrench, hurling it off among the trees. Then Jack wheeled around to face Mlle. Nadiboff, bowing.
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