The Submarine Boys and the Spies Part 21

In silence the chauffeur stepped forward resting the lighted lantern on the floor a few, feet from the boy. Then the Frenchman seated himself on the boards, next bringing out a paper package from one of his pockets. As he untied the string Jack watched with lively interest.

"Sandwiches, eh?" chuckled Jack. "Thank you. I'm ready."

"This is my supper," answered Gaston, taking a bite of one of the sandwiches. "You don't get any."

"Oh, I don't?" demanded Captain Jack, feeling the pangs of hunger worse than ever.

Gaston's next move was to take a bottle from another pocket, uncorking it.

"As you're a Frenchman, I suppose that's wine," muttered Jack. "I don't use that kind of stuff, but water--"

"This is water," replied the Frenchman, pouring a few drops onto the floor before the submarine boy's eyes.

Jack's throat ached at sight of the water. "I suppose you've come here to eat and drink, in order to torment me?" asked Captain Benson.

"It must give you huge pleasure to watch me," suggested Gaston, taking a swallow from the bottle.

"About the only pleasure I could get from watching you," retorted the boy ironically, "would be if I could see you swinging from the end of a rope that was tied in a tight noose around your neck!"

"Perhaps that will happen to you--yet," hinted Gaston, looking keenly at the boy.

"Humph!" muttered Jack. "How would that help your rascally crowd?"

It was plain that the chauffeur didn't really want to eat or drink, but that he had been tormenting the captive. Now Gaston carefully placed the sandwiches and the bottle of water where young Benson couldn't possibly reach them.

"You've been having too pleasant a time here," glared the Frenchman, bending over the boy. "You haven't yet suffered enough to be ready for the plans that we have for you."

With that the chauffeur threw himself a-top of the boy, striking him a blow in the face.

"You lean, long-legged coward!" sneered Jack, angrily. "You know about how much punk you'd have if I had my hands and legs free, and stood before you on even terms. How you'd beg, you wretched craven!"

For answer the chauffeur clutched with both hands at Jack's hair, giving a hard pull. Jack gritted his teeth, panting, until at last the torment forced him to utter a pain-wrung "ouch!"

"Perhaps you will soon learn better than to insult me," leered Gaston.

"You wretched dog," shot back the submarine boy, "you're past insult by any decent man!"

"Careful," warned the Frenchman, "or I will soon make you shriek your apologies to me. I can do what I please with you, and sometimes I have an ugly temper. But listen. I come for one purpose only--to find out what answer am to take to my master, M. Lemaire."

"Take him," retorted Jack, dryly, "the a.s.surance of my undying contempt for him and all of his kind."

"You will be left here another twenty-four hours, without food or drink, if you do not give me a better answer to take," warned Gaston, leering down savagely into the boy's face. "Now, consider! Will you send word that you will be glad to see M. Lemaire in the morning?"

"Yes; if he's going to be in state prison," mocked Benson, "and locked in a cell, as he should be."

"Will you see him here?"

"I can't help myself."

"If M. Lemaire comes, will you be sensible? Will you tell him all that he wants to know about your boat and your work?"

"Not if I'm in my right mind!"

"If you continue stubborn, Captain Benson, you will die here, of thirst and hunger."

"Perhaps," admitted Jack, more soberly. "But it will be a full-size man's death, won't it?"

"Oh, you think, then, that you are not afraid to die of thirst and hunger?"

"Since others have done it," retorted Jack, "I suppose I can, if I have to."

"If you have to?" rasped the Frenchman.

"Do you doubt, then, that we would bring such a fate upon you?"

"I don't believe there's anything too low and cowardly for your crowd to stoop to it," admitted Jack Benson, with spirit.

"Have a care, young man!"

"You asked me a question," growled back young Benson, "and I answered you. If it doesn't suit you, don't ask any more questions."

Gaston regarded the boy with a still more sinister look.

"I think, Captain," continued the chauffeur, "that a little pain--will have a good effect in disciplining you."

Jack Benson did not reply.

"Come, now! Let us see if any of your hair will stay in your scalp?"

proposed the Frenchman. "Yet, first of all, boy, have you anything to say that will stop me?"

"If I had, I'd say it," muttered the submarine boy, ruefully.

"Then you might give me that message I asked for."

"Is that all that will stop you?" demanded Jack.

"Yes. All."

"Then go ahead with whatever you have in mind," retorted Jack. "As long as my sane mind stays by me I shall never betray the Pollard secrets to any other government!"

"Let us see, then!"

Once more Gaston fastened the long, sinewy fingers of each hand in the submarine boy's hair. He began to tug, gently at first, but gradually increasing the force of the yank.

Jack Benson stood it as long as he could, then at last let out a yell that was dragged from the depths of agony.

"I'm in time, it seems! Stop that! Now, turn and fight like a man--you contemptible hound!"