The Perils of Pauline Part 47

But Harry was upon him. He hurled the Gypsy across the room. He charged at the others and one went down.

Through the door came four men.

"It's Harry. Help him!" cried Pauline.

Balthazar charged straight at the newcomers but he did not attempt to fight. He was out through the door and away to the river before they could intercept him. Within a few moments his companions lay bound on the hut floor.

"But how did you find out? How did you know we needed you?" asked Pauline afterward of young Richard Gorman, whose camping party had been the rescuers.

"That's the girl who told us," he said, pointing to a dejected little bull terrier that stood, quaking with excitement, a few feet away.

"Cyrus!" cried Pauline, running and clutching the little terrier in her arms.

"Yes, he brought us the dead bomb and we knew something was up."

CHAPTER XXI

THE GUEST OF HONOR

"Well, prove it," said Harry. "Show me that you mean it!"

"Why, Harry, what a woman says she, always means."

"Always means not to do."

"But, Harry, really I'm going to be good this time," pleaded Pauline.

They were emerging from the gate of the Marvin mansion to the avenue, and as Harry turned to Pauline with a skeptical reply on his lips, the approach of a young man of military bearing stopped him.

"By Jove, isn't that--who the deuce is it? Why, Benny Summers!"

The young man was hurrying by without recognition, when Harry called sharply: "h.e.l.lo, Ben!"

"Harry--Harry Marvin! By the coin of Croesus, is it really you?"

"No," said Harry, grasping his hand, "not the 'you' you used to know.

I've been driven into premature old age by caring for a militant sister. Polly, this is Ensign Summers of the navy. Please promise me that you won't get him into danger, because he used to be a friend of mine. He has never done anything more dangerous than run a submarine and shoot torpedoes out of it in a field of mines."

"A submarine? Torpedoes?" cried Pauline. "Isn't that beautiful."

"But, Benny, how are you? What have you been doing? I haven't seen you in a thousand years."

"I'm still at it. And I've got it, Harry. I give you my word, I have."

"Got what?"

"The torpedo--I mean THE torpedo, in capital letters and italics with a line under the word. I've invented one that would blow--well-- I've got it."

"Congratulations, felicitations, laudatory, remarks, and enthusiasm,"

cried Harry. "Without having slightest idea what a torpedo is, I rejoice with you. Come on back to the house, and tell us about it."

"I'm sorry, I can't, Harry, now. I'm engaged for a conference with the Naval Board, and I'm late already. But will you and Miss Marvin come to luncheon with me tomorrow?"

"Why not you with us, we saw you first?"

Summers laughed. "Well, for this reason, I want you to meet Mlle. de Longeon, who will preside at this particular luncheon, and who is--"

The flush that came suddenly to the cheeks of the young officer brought involuntary laughter from Harry and Pauline.

"I take that as an acceptance--the Kerrimore, East Fifty-sixth street," he called, sharing in their laughter as he fled.

But at the gate of the Marvin house he came upon Raymond Owen. There was a hasty clasp of hands and "You're to come, too," cried Summers, continuing his flight.

"Where am I to come?" asked Owen, as he approached Harry and Pauline.

"To luncheon with Ensign Summers tomorrow. Isn't he dear? I love men who blush. They seem so innocent."

"The Fates defend us!" implored Harry.

Ensign Summers had gained a position beyond his rank in the navy. A natural bent toward science and a patriotic bent toward the use of science as a means of national defense had inspired him to experiments which had resulted in success amazing even to himself. He had been allowed--during the year preceding the meeting with Harry and Pauline --a leave of absence. In that time he had visited Italy, France, England and Germany, and had studied under naval experts. He had come back home with his own little idea undiminished in its importance to his own mind, and he had proceeded with youthful enthusiasm and effrontery to prove its importance to the highest of his commanders.

The tests now about to be made--tests of a new torpedo gun and new torpedo--had been ordered by the mightiest in the land. Triumphant in his discovery and wealthy in his own right, Summers was the happiest of men. It was in Paris that he had met Mlle. del Longeon.

Exquisitely beautiful, of the alluring and languorous type, quick of wit, tactful, and with great charm of manner, she had completely fascinated the young officer. He had vowed his adoration of her almost before he knew her. His avowals had been repulsed with just that margin of insincerity that would double his ardor.

It had required many letters to induce Mlle. de Longeon to leave her beloved Paris and visit friends in America. Summers knew she was not a Frenchwoman, but he was totally in the dark as to what was her nationality. Summers didn't care. He was madly mad in love with her, and there was no other thing to consider.

It was for this reason that Mlle. de Longeon was the guest of honor at the little luncheon in his rooms, to which he had invited Harry and Pauline. The affair was quite informal. There were a number of navy men present, a few young married people. The atmosphere of the gathering was "sublimely innocuous," as Mlle. de Longeon remarked to Summers in the hall after the guests had departed.

But Mlle. de Longeon had met one guest who did not impress her as innocuous--or sublime--Raymond Owen. Pauline had presented the secretary on his arrival, and Owen had immediately devoted himself to her. Not long after luncheon was served the voice of Mlle. de Longeon rose suddenly above the general talk.

"But, Mr. Summers, you have not told us yet of your new invention.

When shall the plans be ready? When shall you rise to the realization of your true success?"

Summers beamed his happiness in the face of the brazen compliment, like the good and silly boy he was.

"I'm supposed to keep this secret," he answered, "but I can trust every one here, I know. The plans are going to be sent out day after tomorrow."

"You mean you will have them completed--all those intricate plans?"

queried Mlle. de Longeon in a tone of breathless admiration.

"I'll work all tonight and most of tomorrow; but, of course, it's only a case of putting into words ideas that have already been put into solid metal. My gun and torpedo are ready for work. It isn't so very difficult, and it's--well, it's a lot of fun."