"Yes, and a mechanical engineer, too," the girl admitted, without attempt at concealment "As you also doubtless know, he served, once, with a revolutionary army in Guatemala. It is in some sort of scrape like this that he finds him self now. Some trouble that he has gotten himself into with this government in order to befriend the revolutionists of some Central American republic." "Did Millard tell you so?" demanded Jack Benson, his eyes now very wide open. "He let me believe as much," the girl replied, one hand toying with a fold of her dress, while she glanced down. "And that is the truth, is it not?" "No!" broke, half-angrily, from young Benson. The passion would have rung in his denial, but he remembered that he was talking to this girl about her betrothed husband. "You spoke of the Flag a moment ago," cried the girl, suddenly, and gazing searchingly into the boy's eyes. "Do you mean to tell me that Don--that Mr. Millard would be engaged in any work hostile to his own country?" "Is the one we call Millard an American citizen?" asked Benson. "Yes." "Then--" Jack came to an abrupt stop after that one word. He would not tell the dreadful news to this spirited young woman. It was not necessary. But she became insistent "Mr. Benson," she cried, "this has gone too far not to have a full explanation. Has--has Mr. Millard done aught to betray the United States? For that matter, how could he?" "Madam," Benson replied, gravely, "no Central American republic would want charts of our fortified harbors, or notes concerning the fortifications, the harbor mines, and so on, for the very simple reason that no Central American republic would ever be equal to the task of attempting to invade the United States." "Did Mr. Millard steal such plans--make such notes?" She hissed the question sharply, her face now deathly white. "That is the charge against him," Jack nodded. "Did he do it?" "I caught him at it, opposite Fort Craven," young Benson answered. A low, smothered cry escaped the girl. Her head rested against the side of the carriage as though her brain were reeling. But at length she spoke. "You--you would not deceive me," she faltered. "Yet tell me more." "I can't;" answered Jack, with a shake of his head. "Further than that, I cannot go." "Oh, I see," she nodded, "and I do not blame you. You feel that, whatever you told me, I would tell him. But I wouldn't!" Though the girl's face was still fearfully pallid, her eyes, as she turned to gaze into the submarine boy's face, flashed with a new fire. Then, after a brief pause: "Whatever he is, or has done, I am an American," she added, quietly. "This has been a miserable fifteen minutes for me." responded Jack Benson. "I have been torn between the impulse to mind my own business, and the fear that you may be throwing yourself away on a man whom you would promptly learn to despise."