Her face, which was interestingly beautiful, had a slightly foreign look.
The jewels that she wore must have cost a fortune. The girl herself was
a finished product in the arts of good breeding and grace.

As M. Lemaire approached her, this girl recognized him with a smile and
a half-quizzical look.

"Ah, good evening, Mademoiselle Nadiboff," murmured M. Lemaire, as he
bent low before the handsome young woman. "I am charmed."

Then he murmured, in a low tone, swiftly:

"Yonder are, the two boys. Jack Benson is the one you will interest.
You, Sara, know the arts of conversation well enough. Make him your
slave, until he is willing to tell all that we want to know. Invite him
to drive with you in your auto car to-morrow. But, bah! You will know
how to make him talk!"

All this was said swiftly, unheard by anyone else. Then M. Lemaire,
having appeared hardly to pause, passed on.

A minute later Mademoiselle Nadiboff was chatting laughingly with
Lieutenant Featherstone.

"Who are those two young men over there?" questioned the young woman.
"Are they of the Navy?"

"No, though related to us in interest," replied the lieutenant. "They
are the captain and chief engineer of the submarine that arrived this
afternoon. Youthful, aren't they?"