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 had started off on their mysterious trips at eight sharp.  His intention was to get away ahead of them and pick them up somewhere outside the city limits.

Jane had promised that she would be on hand promptly.  Once more he looked impatiently at his watch.  It lacked just half a minute of the quarter, but there was no sign of his fellow operative.  The only person visible in the block was a boy strolling carelessly in his direction.  With a muttered exclamation of annoyance Dean restored his watch to his pocket, debating with himself how long he ought to wait and whether or not he had better wait if she did not appear soon.  Very possibly, he realized, something entirely unforeseen might have detained her or have prevented her coming.  Perhaps her family had doubted her story that she was going off on an all-day motor trip with a friend?  Maybe their suspicions had been aroused by his having reported sick?  He had almost decided to go on alone when he observed that the boy he had seen approaching was standing beside the motorcycle.