"Every dog, even a dirty one," thundered Captain Jack Benson, "has a
master! Who's yours?"

M. Lemaire's face became livid in an instant. His hands working
convulsively, he sprang at the young submarine captain.

Mlle. Nadiboff, snatching a riding whip from under her automobile coat,
turned and ran toward them. The chauffeur snatched up a wrench, leaping
out of the automobile.




CHAPTER X

M. LEMAIRE PROVES HIS TRAINING


"You insult me!" screamed M. Lemaire, halting right under the face of
Captain Jack Benson, who looked at him undaunted.

"I didn't," denied Jack. "I let you do that yourself. My
congratulations, sir. You certainly know how to insult your own
manhood as well as the most confirmed scoundrel could wish!"

"You insult again!" quivered M. Lemaire, his French accent asserting
itself. "I s'all make you pay for zat!"

He struck wildly, badly, as a Frenchman does who has no knowledge of