The Moving Picture Boys on the War Front Part 11

"It is," interrupted Blake, and his manner was grave. "Come below and I'll tell you. I don't want any one else to hear."

Wondering somewhat at their friend's manner, Joe and Charlie went to their stateroom, and there Blake closed the door and took the dark cloth down from the mirror. A look into it showed that the transom of the room opposite--the cabin of Levi Labenstein--had been closed.

"So we can't tell whether he's in there or not," said Blake.

"Did you want to talk about him?" asked Joe.

"Yes, him and the lieutenant. Did you fellows happen to notice what they were doing when the submarine was attacking us?"

"Not especially," answered Joe. "I did see Lieutenant Secor looking at us as we worked the camera, but I didn't pay much attention to him."

"It wasn't him so much as it was the German," went on Blake.

"In what way?"

"Did you see where he was standing when the submarine came out of the water?"

Neither Joe nor Charlie had done so, or, if they had, they did not recall the matter when Blake questioned them. So that young man resumed:

"Well, I'll tell you what I saw: Labenstein was leaning over the rail on the side where the submarine showed, and he was holding a big white cloth over the side."

"A big white cloth?" cried Joe.

"That's what it was," went on Blake. "It looked to me like a signal."

"Do you mean a signal of surrender?" asked Charlie. "A white flag? He wouldn't have any right to display that, anyhow. It would have to come from Captain Merceau."

"Maybe he meant that he'd surrender personally," suggested Joe, "and didn't want his fellow-murderers to hurt him."

"I don't know what his object was," went on Blake, "but I saw him take from his pocket a big white cloth and hold it over the side. It could easily have been seen from the submarine, and must have been, for he displayed it just before the underwater boat came up."

"A white cloth," mused Joe. "From his pocket. Was it his handkerchief, Blake?"

"He wouldn't have one as large as that, even if he suffered from hay fever. I think it was a signal."

"A signal for what?" Charlie again asked.

"To tell the submarine some piece of news, of course--perhaps the port of sailing, something of the nature of our cargo, or perhaps to tell just where to send the torpedo. I understand we are carrying some munitions, and it may be that this German spy directed the commander of the submarine where to aim the torpedo so as to explode them."

"But he'd be signaling for his own death warrant!" cried Joe.

"Not necessarily," answered Blake. "He may have had some understanding with the submarine that he was to be saved first. Perhaps he was going to jump overboard before the torpedo was fired and was to be picked up.

Anyhow, I saw him draping a white cloth over the side, and I'm sure it was a signal."

"Well, I guess you're right," said Joe. "The next question is, what's to be done? This fellow is a spy and a traitor, and we ought to expose him."

"Yes," agreed Blake. "But we'd better have a little more evidence than just my word. You fellows didn't see what I saw, that's plain, and perhaps no one else did. So it would only make a big fuss and not result in anything if I told the captain."

"Then what are you going to do?" asked Charlie.

"Just keep watch," Blake answered.

"What about Lieutenant Secor?" asked Joe.

"Well, I didn't see him do anything," admitted Blake. "Though I have my suspicions of him also. He and Labenstein weren't talking so earnestly together for nothing. We'll watch that Frenchman, too."

"And if he tries any more games in spoiling films I'll have my say!"

threatened Macaroni.

The boys talked the situation over at some length as they put away the films they had taken of the submarine attack, and agreed that "watchful waiting" was the best policy to adopt. As Blake had said, little could be gained by denouncing Labenstein with only the word of one witness to rely on.

"If all three of us catch him at his traitorous work, then we'll denounce him," suggested Blake.

"Yes, and the Frenchman, too!" added Charlie, in a louder voice, so that Blake raised a cautioning hand.

At that moment came a knock on their door, and a voice said:

"I am Mr. Labenstein!"

CHAPTER X

THE FLASHLIGHT

Almost like conspirators themselves, the boys looked at one another as the voice and knock sounded together. Blake was the first to recover himself.

"Come in!" he called, in as welcoming a tone as he could muster under the circ.u.mstances. Then as the k.n.o.b of the door was ineffectually tried, he added:

"Oh, I forgot it was locked! Wait a moment!"

A moment later he had swung the door open, and the man who, the boys believed, was a German spy confronted them, smiling.

"You are locked in as if you feared another submarine," he said. "It is not the best way to do. You should be on deck!"

"But not on deck as you were, with a flag to signal to the Huns,"

thought Joe; and he wished he dared make the accusation.

Blake motioned to the caller to seat himself on a stool.

"I came to see if I might borrow something," began the caller. "I find that mine is out of order for some reason," and he held out a small, but powerful, electric flash lamp, of the sort sold for the use of soldiers.

"Have you, by any chance, one that you could spare me?" asked Mr.

Labenstein.

"I do not want it, if it is the only one you have, but they are a great convenience in one's berth, for the lights must be kept turned off, now that we are in the danger zone made by those terrible Germans. Ah, how I hate them!" and his anger seemed very real and earnest.