Yet unconscious though Dean had lain all the way, as they resumed their journey without him, she felt a sudden sense of dread at being alone in the car with Frederic Hoff. It was not that she longer feared he would endeavor to make her tell her reasons for the expedition. She was afraid that with just the two of them alone in the car he might seize the opportunity to declare his affection for her. But, to her amazement, he hardly spoke a word to her on all the rest of the journey homeward. Once in a while as she ventured a glance in his direction, annoyed a little perhaps by this neglect of her, she saw only a strong face set in lines of thought, his brow wrinkled in deep perplexity, and his blue eyes looking steadily at the road ahead—and at something far, far beyond. Save for an occasional solicitous question about her comfort he did not speak again until just after he had put her in a taxi at the ferry. As Jane was trying to say her thanks he leaned forward unexpectedly, his tall frame blocking the whole doorway. “Jane,” he said, his voice vibrant with emotion, “Jane, you must trust me. Everything must come out all right. Some day—some day soon when we have won—I am coming to find you and tell you that I love you.” “When we have won!” Jane shuddered and drew back in the car, aflame with sudden wrath. She had read and had heard often of the unspeakable conceit of the Prussians. She knew that they regarded themselves as supermen who could not be defeated. Her challenged American pride rose to battle. As she rode home she was sure now that more than she hated anything else in the world she hated Frederic Hoff, the spy, the German, who had dared to boast to her that they expected to win. CHAPTER XII PUZZLES AND PLANS Chief Fleck had spent a sleepless night trying to put two and two together. Instead of the answer being “four” as it should have been each time he completed his figuring the result was “zero.” Time and again he mustered the facts into columns, only to succeed in puzzling himself the more. Two German spies, the Hoffs, had set out together in their motor on their usual mysterious Wednesday mission. Two other persons, two of his most intelligent operatives, Thomas Dean and Jane Strong, had set out on a motorcycle to shadow them. What had happened? Otto Hoff had returned to his apartment on foot, hours before his usual time, seemingly much perturbed about something. Frederic Hoff had arrived back at the apartment, also on foot, some hours later than usual, and the motor had not been returned to its usual garage. Frederic Hoff had appeared to be unusually elated about something. Thomas Dean was in a doctor’s home somewhere up the Hudson with a broken arm and a bad scalp wound and was unable to tell what had become of either Miss Strong or the motorcycle.