“Did you know that he was on board the _Iroquois_?” asked Nat, while the others formed an interested circle.
“Not till the ship had sailed. Then I encountered him suddenly in a passageway. From that moment I was on my guard, but, as you know, I did not succeed in warding off the attack I apprehended. In fact, I never dreamed that it would come in that way.”
“What were these papers he was so anxious to get hold of?” asked the doctor; and then, as the other hesitated, “You may speak with confidence. I am sure that no one here will disclose anything confidential you may tell us.”
Mr. Jenkins scanned all their faces eagerly. It seemed as if he wanted to satisfy himself that what the doctor had said was right, that he could rely on them to retain his secret.
“Gentlemen,” he said in low tones, “those papers were the plans of an invention which I had just brought to perfection after years of labor and research. You have heard, of course, of the reward offered by the Government to the man who could perfect a dirigible torpedo? That is to say, a torpedo that would be under the control of the operator who sent it on its death mission, from the moment it left the side of the ship that launched it to the instant that it exploded.”
The boys nodded. They all read several scientific papers and magazines and had, of course, heard of the reward that Mr. Jenkins mentioned.
“Well, I had invented and perfected such a projectile,” continued Mr. Jenkins, his eyes glowing like two coals in his pale cheeks as he talked.
“What, you had invented a torpedo which could be governed from a ship’s side and absolutely controlled by the operator?” Nat could not help asking. The thing seemed fantastic, improbable; he even thought that possibly the man’s mind might be wandering. But before Mr. Jenkins could reply, Dr. Chalmers struck in with an exclamation.
“Pardon me, but you are not the Professor Jonas Jenkins, late instructor of physics and chemistry at Columbia University, New York City, who withdrew from the faculty to perfect some experimental work, the nature of which was kept a profound secret?”
“I am,” was the quiet reply, “and that experimental work was identical with the plans and papers of which I have just been robbed.”