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

Masked by an enormous pair of motor goggles and further shielded from
recognition by a cap drawn down almost over his nose, Thomas Dean in a
basket-rigged motorcycle impatiently sat awaiting the arrival of Jane
Strong at a corner they had agreed upon the evening before. He had been
particularly insistent that Jane should be on hand at a quarter before
eight. He had learned by judicious inquiries that always on
Wednesdays--at least on the Wednesdays previous--the Hoffs h