the midst of the conversation, could not help
noting that Hoff had seated himself in a chair by the window where he
seemed to be keeping a vigilant eye on the ships that could be seen from
there. Even at the luncheon table he got up once and walked to the
window to look out, making some clumsy excuse about the beautiful view.

Determined to press the opportunity, Jane endeavored to turn the
conversation into personal channels.

"You are an American," she said turning to Hoff, "are you not? I'm
surprised that you are not in uniform, too."

"A man does not necessarily need to be in uniform to be serving his
government," he replied. "Perhaps I am doing something more important."

"But you are an American, aren't you?" she persisted almost impudently,
driven on by her eagerness to learn all she possibly could about him.

"I was born in Cincinnati," he replied hesitantly.

She could not help observing how diplomatically he had parried both her
questions. Mentally she recorded his exact words with the idea in her
mind of repeating what he had said verbatim to her chief.

"Then you _are_ doing work for the government?"

Intensely she waited for his answer. Surely he could find no way of
evading such a direct inquiry as this.

"Every man who believes in his own country," he answered, modestly
enough, yet with a curious reservation that puzzled her, "in times like
these is doing his bit."

She felt far from satisfied. If he was born in America, if he really was
an American at heart, his replies would have been reassuring, but his
name was Hoff. His uncle was a German-American, a proved spy or at least
a messenger for spies. If her guest still considered Prussia his
fatherland the answers he had made would fit equally well.

"You're just as provokingly secretive as these navy men," she taunted
him. "When I try to find out now where any of my friends in the navy are
stationed they won't tell me a thing, will they, Mr. Kramer?"

"I'll tell you where they all are," said Lieutenant Kramer. "Every
letter I've had from abroad recently from chaps in the service has had
the same address--'A deleted port.'"

"I really think the government is far too strict about it," she
continued. "My only brother is over there now fighting. All we know is
that he is 'Somewhere in France.' War makes it hard on all of us."

"Yet after all," said Hoff soberly, "what are our hardships here
compared to what people are suffering over there, in