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Updated: June 19, 2025
Jack and his two chums were to make the journey in another auto. They would go to still other hotels, perhaps to three different ones. At any moment when instructions were needed, any one of the three could call up Lieutenant Ridder on the telephone.
Let us stand together against these invaders, as our forefathers stood at Lexington and Bunker Hill!" During the cheers that followed this harangue, my attention was drawn to an agitated group on the platform, the central figure being Bernard Ridder, recognised leader of the large German-American population of New York City that had remained staunchly loyal in the crisis.
None of the people to whom he spoke within the next three or four minutes remembered having seen the tall, veiled woman in gray, though some "thought" they "might have." "I reckon," wisely decided Captain Jack Benson, "that I know just about enough to take my information to Lieutenant Ridder." As agreed, the young West Pointer was in a room at the Grindley House.
Beaver, while Ben on his part found it increasingly pleasant to lounge in the Beavers' best parlour chair and recount to a credulous audience the prominent part which he was taking in all the affairs of the day. Matters reached a climax one night when, after some close financing, Joe Ridder took Mittie to the Skating Rink.
"No; I don't believe, on second thought, that I'm the prize fool." "Come, come," directed Lieutenant Ridder. "Talk up quickly, young man." "If you want to hear what I have to say," retorted Eph, with a slight flash of his eyes, "you'll have to wait until I get around to it." It was serving direct notice on Ridder that Army briskness wouldn't do in Eph's case.
"Yet I had an idea that, if I followed him, he might lead me to the place where he kept his maps and his other stolen information. And he did, I guess," added Jack, with a somewhat disappointed smile. "Wait a moment. I'll try to get Major Woodruff over the wire," muttered Lieutenant Ridder. "He may have some orders for us." Major Woodruff was at his home.
"But there are mighty few women as tall as Millard. Besides, this one had rather a long foot, and wore rubbers. I noticed that. Huh! This makes me feel like thirty tacks!" "How did you meet her or him?" asked Ridder. "I was crossing a street, maybe eight blocks from here," Eph replied, "and I saw that tall woman, in gray, slip on the crossing.
"That you, Joe?" asked Mrs. Ridder from the next room an hour later. "I didn't know you'd come. Yer paw sent word by old man Jackson that he was at Hank's Exchange way down on Market Street, and fer you to come git him." "It's twelve o'clock," remonstrated Joe. "I know it," said Mrs. Ridder, yawning, "but I reckon you better go.
Not that she disapproved of Mittie receiving attention; on the contrary, it was her oft-repeated boast that "Mittie had been keepin' company with the boys ever since she was six, and she 'spected she'd keep right on till she was sixty." It was not attention in the abstract that she objected to, it was rather the threatening of "a steady," and that steady, the big, awkward, shy Joe Ridder.
Millard came in, a policeman at his side, for the submarine boys had hailed the first policeman they met inside the city limits, and had explained to him. "This man is wanted as a United States prisoner, is he, sir?" inquired the policeman. "Yes, if his name is Millard," replied Lieutenant Ridder. "Oh, this is Millard, all right," confirmed Jack Benson.
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