in
Dad's dust coat, and that came to my ankles. I wore it until I was a
block away from the house. Will I do?"

"You can't change your eyes," said Dean boldly, that is boldly for a
chauffeur, but he knew that Jane knew he wasn't a chauffeur except by
choice, so that made it all right.

"I couldn't well leave them behind. I understood that I was to have a
lot of use for my eyes to-day."

"Yes, indeed, you very likely will."

"Do you know I hardly recognized you at first and was almost afraid to
speak? I had expected to find you in a car. What was the idea of the
motorcycle?"

"It was Chief Fleck's suggestion. The Hoffs will be motoring. People in
a car seldom pay any attention to motorcyclists. If we were to follow
them in a motor they'd surely notice it. Last week they managed to dodge
the people the Chief assigned to trail them. Maybe as two dusty
motorcyclists we'll have better luck."

"I hope so. Where do you intend waiting to pick them up?"

"Getty Square in Yonkers is the best place. Everybody going north goes
that way. I can be tinkering with the machine while you keep watch for
them. They will not be apt to suspect a pair of Yonkers motorcyclists.
There's no danger of missing them."

"Did you tell the Chief about seeing Mr. Hoff in that uniform?"

"Of course. He did not seem even surprised. Some one had reported to him
already that there was a German going about in British uniform."

"What had he heard? What was the man doing?" questioned Jane anxiously.
Even though she believed Frederic Hoff an alien enemy, even though she
was all but sure that he was a murderer, she kept finding herself always
hoping for something in his favor. He seemed far too nice and
entertaining to be engaged in any nefarious, underhanded, despicable
machinations. Yet she had seen him masquerading as a British officer.
She could not doubt the evidence of her own eyes.

"What happened was this," continued Dean. "A woman--one of the society
lot--was driving down Park Avenue day before yesterday morning in her
motor. It had been raining, and the streets were muddy. At one of the
crossings a British officer stopped to let the car pass. One of the
wheels hit a rut, and his uniform was all splashed with mud. He burst
into a string of curses--_German_ curses."

"He cursed in German?" cried Jane.

"Sure," said Dean. "On the impulse of the moment he forgot his role and
revealed his true self--an arrogant Prussian officer."

"What