“No, not that,” said the chief, “I’ll send some fake inspectors to test the electric wiring, and they’ll do the searching. I do not know for sure that the Hoffs suspect you of watching them, but I’m taking no chances. It will be just as well for you and Dean to be out of the way to-morrow all day, so that you will have an alibi. Germany’s secret agents are suspicious of everybody. They do not even trust their own people. What I want you and Dean to do is to try to follow the Hoffs and see where they go. I don’t want to use the same persons twice to trail them as they may get suspicious.” “I can easily do that,” said Jane, feeling relieved. “I’ll tell Mother I want our car for all day.” “No, don’t use your own car. They might recognize it. I’ll provide another one. They gave two of my men the slip last week somewhere the other side of Tarrytown. Let’s hope they are not so successful this time.” “But won’t they recognize me?” “Not if you disguise yourself with goggles and a dust coat. Dean can make up, too. He had practice enough at college, eh, Dean?” Jane turned to look interestedly at Dean, who had the grace to color up. She was right then. He was a college man, working in the secret service not for the sake of the job but for the sake of his country. “Of course I can disguise myself too,” she said enthusiastically, a new zest in her work asserting itself, now that she knew her principal co-operator was probably in the same social stratum as herself. “You can rely on us, Chief,” said Dean, as they left the office together. “We’ll run them down.” As they emerged into Broadway and turned north to reach the subway at Fulton Street, Dean, with a warning “sst,” suddenly caught Jane’s arm and drew her to a shop window, where he appeared to be pointing out some goods displayed there. As he did so he whispered: “Don’t say a word and don’t turn around, but watch the people passing, in this mirror here—quick, now, look.” Jane, as she was bidden, glanced, at first curiously and then in recognition and amazement, at a tall figure reflected in the mirror, as he passed close behind her. It was a man in uniform. Regardless of Dean’s warning she turned abruptly to stare uncertainly at the military back now a few paces away. “Did you recognize him?” cried Dean. “It—it looked like Frederic Hoff,” faltered the girl. “It was Frederic Hoff,” corrected her companion, “Frederic Hoff in the uniform of a British officer, a British cavalry captain!” CHAPTER IX THE PURSUIT