The longer she chatted with him, the more puzzled Jane became. He seemed to speak with sincerity and feeling. Her intuition told her that he was a man of honor and high ideals, and yet in everything he said there was always reserve, hesitation, caution, as if he weighed every word before uttering it. Intently she listened, hoping to catch some intonation, some awkward arrangement of words that might betray his tongue for German, but the English he spoke was perfect—not the English of the United States nor yet of England, but rather the manner of speech that one hears from the world-traveler. Question after question she put, hoping to trap him into some admission, but skilfully he eluded her efforts. She decided at last to try more direct tactics. “Your name has a German sound. It is German, isn’t it?” she asked. “I told you I was born in Cincinnati,” he answered laughingly. “Some people insist that that is a German province.” “But you have been in Germany, haven’t you?” “Why do you ask?” “I was wondering if you had not lived in that country?” “I could not well have been there without having lived there, could I?” Kramer came to her rescue. “Of course he has lived there. Mr. Hoff and I both attended German universities. That was what brought us together at the start—our common bond.” “Did you attend the same university?” asked Jane. She felt that at last she was on the point of finding out something worth while. “No,” said Kramer, “unfortunately it was not the same university.” She caught her breath and blushed guiltily. If Mr. Kramer had attended a German university he could not be an Annapolis graduate. He must be a recent comer in the American navy. She knew that since the war began some civilians had been admitted. It had just dawned on her that if this was the case, since visiting on board ships was no longer permitted, it clearly was impossible for her to have met him at any function on a warship. He must have known all along that she knew she never had met him. He must have been aware, too, that her mother did not know him. She felt that she was getting into perilous waters and fearful of making more blunders refrained from further questions. A vague alarm began to agitate her. If he had detected her ruse when she first had spoken to him, why had he not admitted it? What had been his purpose in accepting her invitation and in bringing into it his German friend, Mr. Hoff? The ringing of the telephone bell came as a welcome interruption. A maid summoned her to answer a call, and excusing herself from the table she went to the ’phone desk in the foyer. “Hello, is this you, Miss Strong?” It was Carter’s voice, but from the anxious stress in it she judged that he was in a state of great perturbation. “Yes, it is Jane Strong speaking,” she answered. “You know who this is?” “Of course. I recognize your voice. It’s Mr. C—”