'But he hasn't, sir,' protested Smedley. 'He announced himself as if he had never seen me
before. And he looks a bit different, sir.'
'The real Dadren!' shouted Vic, pouncing toward the door.
Before Vic reached the portal, Dadren himself appeared. He had heard the cries; he had
come to learn the trouble. Under his arm he carried a portfolio. Smedley was right; this
Dadren looked different from the other.
SENATOR RELESTON recalled a definite appearance of the first visitor's face. Firm
features, so well molded that they had been almost masklike. This man looked less like
Dadren than Releston had expected. Had the two been side by side, the senator would have
chosen the first Dadren as the genuine. Circumstances, however, made him decide in favor
of the newcomer.
Vic Marquette had denounced the first visitor as an impostor. Releston had given accord.
Both took it for granted that Commander Dadren stood before them. In fact, the naval officer
looked bewildered at the excitement which his arrival had created. Looking past Releston
and Marquette, he caught sight of Stollart.
A warning signal from the secretary. It was Stollart, at present, who was troubled. While
Releston and Marquette had been registering elation, Stollart had lost his smug satisfaction.
Sight of this new face; a glimpse of the portfolio—both were enough to tell bad news to
Stollart.
'At last.' Dadren appeared relieved as he forced a smile, yet all the while his eyes were
watchful. 'Here I am, senator, with the missing portions of the plans.'
Advancing to the desk, he opened the portfolio. From it, he drew forth the sheets of tracings
and spread them out that all could see.
'Give me the other drawings,' suggested the commander. 'I shall show you how they fit.'
'We have bad news, commander,' interjected Releston, going back to his desk. 'The
plans—the ones Vincent brought—are gone!'
'Gone!' exclaimed Dadren.
Looking about, he caught Stollart's eye. Again a danger signal came from the troubled
secretary. Dadren looked to Releston for an explanation.
'More than a half hour ago,' stated the senator, 'a man came here and announced himself
as you. He looked like you, commander. He wanted the plans. We gave them to him.'
'What! Without demanding proof of his identity?'
'Vincent was here. He took the man for you.'
'But did the rogue have tracings?'
'No. He said that he had destroyed them; that they were unnecessary. He was in the living
room with Stollart, dictating notes. He left by the outer door.'
'Is this Stollart?' demanded Dadren, looking at the secretary.
Releston nodded.
'What did the impostor dictate?' inquired Dadren, looking steadily at the secretary.
'Odd references that I could not understand,' was the reply. 'It sounded like a rigmarole. But
I thought -'
'Of course.' Dadren's tone was caustic. 'Nobody thought. What kind of a story did this
fellow tell you?'
'None,' growled Vic. 'That's just why I began to suspect him. He said he was brought
blindfolded into Washington; that -'
'You have told me enough,' interposed Dadren. 'Listen to my story. You will know then why
the rogue came here. In a sense, I am to blame for what has happened. Yet, do not be
alarmed. We are better off than we were before.'
RELESTON settled back in his chair. Vic Marquette looked tensely interested. Stollart was
listening carefully.
'My captors,' explained Dadren, 'were holding me in an old shack somewhere near a
railroad. I feel sure that it was on the Richmond line. South of Washington. I could hear trains
going by at night.
'Their leader, a black-bearded villain, could make nothing of the plans I carried. He thought
they were duplicates of those that you received from Vincent. He wanted the originals. So he
politely returned me these duplicates and suggested a compromise, through the letter that
he made me write.
'To-day, the bearded man went away. I suspected a ruse. I managed to talk with the guard
whom he had set over me. That fellow, like others on duty at the shack, seemed
discontented. Talking with the guard, I explained the terms that I had made. I learned
something.
'The black-bearded rascal had told his crew that he was getting fifty thousand dollars for my
release. He was to split half of the money with them. My guard saw—from what I had told
him—that he and the others would he left holding the bag. That was my wedge.'
'I begin to get it,' affirmed Vic Marquette.
'I told my guard that I wanted to escape,' resumed Dadren. 'I said that the bearded chief
was double-crossing me as well as his own men. I offered amnesty to all and added that I
would pay them the twenty-five thousand that I had promised to their leader.
'I impressed the dissatisfied guard. He was going to talk it over with his companions. I told
him to wait, until they had proof of their leader's perfidy. The guard came in the cell where
they were holding me. He aided me in wrenching away the bars, a job that I had failed to do
alone.
'Then he locked the door and remained outside while I escaped. I made for the railroad. A
freight was coming from a siding. I clambered into an open box car and rode into
Washington. I came here at once.
'This being Wednesday'- the speaker paused deliberately—'I figured that I could anticipate
any game that our enemy was playing. Bringing the tracings with me, I was sure that all was
safe. I thought that to-morrow, Thursday, would bring the crisis. But I was wrong.'
DADREN paused. Then, in a sour tone, he added:
'The crook came here ahead of me. In disguise. Something that I had not expected. What a
terrible mistake—to let him get away with those plans. Nevertheless, we can defeat him.'
'How?' queried Vic.
'Here are the tracings,' responded Dadren. 'The villain does not know their value. He has
merely reversed the situation. He has the plans, we have the tracings, instead of the other
way about.'
'Say'—Vic Marquette had a sudden thought—'that fellow seemed to know what the
tracings were for. How do you explain that, commander?'
'I can answer it.' The unexpected statement came from Stollart. The secretary was
speaking earnestly. 'Remember, sir'- Stollart turned to Releston —'that the impostor stalled
a bit when the tracings were mentioned?'
'I do,' recalled the senator.
'That's when he realized their importance,' added Stollart. 'He was bluffing, feeling us out.
He caught on without our knowing it.'
'Stollart is right!' shot Vic Marquette, pounding the desk. 'That guy's headed back for the
shack in Virginia, to get these tracings that he had returned to Commander Dadren.'
'We can trap him there,' added Senator Releston. 'With Commander Dadren free and safe
with us, we can move at once. This is a job for the Secret Service, Marquette.'
