have had a perilous job on his hands.

As they rode down the mountain lane, Jane rejoiced at the darkness that
hid her face, both from Fleck and from Frederic on the seat behind. Now
that there was no activity to distract her maddening thoughts once more
paced in turmoil through her brain. She loved this man, and she was
leading him to disgrace and death. She hated and despised him. He was a
treacherous, dangerous enemy of her country whom she had helped to trap,
and she was glad, glad, glad. No, no! She wasn't glad. She loved him. He
had given her that sealed packet and had charged her to keep it for
him. He couldn't be all bad. Why must she love him? Her mind told her he
was a criminal, an enemy, a spy, a murderer, yet her wilful heart
insisted that she loved him. How strange life was! She and Frederic
loved each other. Why could they not marry and be happy? Why was War?
Why must nations fight? Why must people hate each other? Was the whole
world mad? Was she going mad herself?

Slowly and carefully, Fleck, with his lights on full, had steered the
automobile down the narrow roadway through the woods. He had just turned
the car safely into the main road, and stopped to look back to see how
closely the other cars were following. Suddenly from the wayside a dozen
men in uniform sprang up, the glint of their guns made visible by the
automobile lights.

"Halt," cried a voice of authority.

The one glimpse he had caught of the uniform had conveyed to Fleck the
welcome fact that the party surrounding him were Americans--cavalry
troopers.

"Chief Fleck," he announced, by way of identification. "Who are you?"

A tall figure in officer's clothes sprang up on the running board and
peered into Fleck's face.

"Thank God, Chief," he said, "that it's you."

"Colonel Brook-White," cried Fleck in amazement, recognizing the voice
as that of one of the officers in charge of the British Government's
Intelligence Service in America. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to round up some bally German spies," explained Brook-White.

"I've beaten you to it," cried Fleck, with a note of triumph in his
tone. "I've got them all here in shackles."

"Good," said Brook-White delightedly. "I was fearful I'd be too late.
There was delay in getting a message to me. As soon as I had it, I tried
to reach you and couldn't. I dared not wait but dashed up here in my
car. I knew there were some American troopers camped near here, and I
persuade