eft
to himself he began speaking in English.

He left Dean and approached her. As he came nearer she closed her eyes
again, trying to plan some course of action. Her head was throbbing so
that she found it impossible to think. She felt toward young Hoff a
warmth of gratitude for not having gone off and left them helpless as
his uncle had insisted. Even though he was an enemy of her country, a
man to be hated, a spy, she could not help being glad for his presence
there. What would she have done without him, with Dean lying there
injured and helpless on this lonely mountain road?

"This chap seems only stunned," she heard him say as he bent over her,
then as he looked closer, she heard him exclaim:

"My God, it's Jane!"

In an instant he was down at her side on his knees. Tenderly one of his
arms went about her and lifted her head.

"Miss Strong, Jane, Jane," he implored, "Jane dear, speak to me."

Stunned though she still was a flush crept into Jane's cheeks at the
unexpected term of endearment, though she still kept her eyes closed.
Gently he laid her back on the turf and hastened to the automobile,
returning with a flask which he held to her lips. Slowly Jane opened
her eyes.

"Thank God," he cried. "Jane dear, tell me you are not hurt."

For a moment she lay there, staring wonderingly at him as he bent over
her imploringly, the tenderest of anxiety showing in every line of his
face. Unprotestingly she let him slip his strong arm once more under her
head. In her dazed brain there was a strange conflict of peculiar
emotions. He was a German, a spy,--she hated him, and yet it was
wonderfully comforting to her to have him there. Under other
circumstances she could have loved him. He was so handsome, so masterful
and so kind, too. He cared for her. Had he not called her "Jane, dear"
in his amazement at finding her lying there? But she must not let
herself think of him in that way. It was her duty, her sacred duty to
trap him, to thwart his nefarious plans against her country. She must do
her duty just as her soldier brother was doing his in far away France.

Still supported by Hoff's arms she sat up, trying to collect her
thoughts and gingerly testing the movement of her arms and limbs.

"Tell me," he cried again, "Jane, dear, are you hurt?"

"I don't think so," she managed to say.

With his assistance she got up on her feet and walked uncertainly to
the car, shuddering as she looked at Dean's crumpled sensel