His manner and his cultured tone, everything about him, reassured her at once. They conveyed to her that he was what she would have termed "a gentleman," and with a little sigh of relief she seated herself.
"I'm afraid," said Mr. Fleck, smiling, "that Carter's method of approaching you must have alarmed you."
"Carter--Oh, the black-mustached man."
"Yes, that describes him. You see, he did not wish to act definitely without consulting his chief, yet the unexpected opportunity seemed far too vital not to be utilized. He did not explain, did he, what it was we wanted of you?"
"Indeed he didn't," said Jane, now wholly herself. "He was most mysterious about it."
Mr. Fleck smiled amusedly.
"Carter has been an agent so long that being mysterious is second nature to him."
"An agent--I don't understand."
"A Department agent," explained Mr. Fleck, adding, "engaged in secret service work for the government."
"Oh!"
Jane's exclamation was not so much of surprise as of delighted realization, and the satisfaction expressed in her face was by no means lost on Mr. Fleck.
"Would you object," he asked, moving his chair a little closer to hers, "if, before I explain why you are here, I ask you a few questions--very personal questions?"
"Certainly not," said Jane.
"You are American-born, of course?"
"Oh, yes."
"And your parents?"
"American for ten or twelve generations."
"How long have you lived in that apartment house on Riverside Drive?"
"For about five years."
"Do you know any of the other tenants in the house?"
"No--that is, none personally."
"Is your time fully occupied?"
"No, indeed it isn't, I've nothing to do at all, nothing except to try to amuse myself."
"Good," said Mr. Fleck. "Now would you be willing to help in some secret work for the United States Government, some work of the very highest importance?"
"Would I?" cried Jane, her eyes shining. "Gladly! Just try me."
"Don't answer too quickly," warned Mr. Fleck. "Remember, it will be real work, serious work, not always pleasant, sometimes possibly a little perilous. Remember, too, it must be done with absolute secrecy. You must not let even your parents know that you are working with us. You must pledge yourself to breathe no word of what you are doing or are asked to do to a living soul. Everything that we may tell you is to be buried forever from everybody. No one is to be trusted. The minute one other person knows your secret it will no longer be a secret. Can we depend upon you?"
"You may absolutely depend on me," said Jane slowly and soberly. "I give you my word. I have been eager for ever so long to do something to help, to really help. My father is doing all he can to aid the government. He's on the Shipping Board."
Mr. Fleck nodded. Evidently he was aware of it already.
"My brother, my only brother," Jane continued, with a little catch in her throat, "is Over There--somewhere Over There--fighting for his government. If there is anything I can do to help the country he is fighting for, the country he may die for, I pledge you I will do it gladly with my heart, my soul, my body--everything."
"Thank you," said Mr. Fleck softly, taking her hand. "I felt sure you were that sort of a girl. Now listen." He moved his chair still closer to hers, and his voice became almost a whisper. "In the apartment next to you there live two men,--Otto Hoff and his nephew, Fred. They have an old German servant, but we can leave her out of it for the present. The old man is a lace importer. Apparently they are both above suspicion, yet--"
He stopped abruptly.
"You think they are spies--spies for Germany," questioned Jane excitedly. "They're Germans, of course?"
"Otto Hoff is German-born, but he has been here for twenty years. Several years ago he took out papers and became an American citizen."
"And the young man?"
Jane's tone was vibrant with interest. It must be the man she had seen from her window whom they suspected most.
"He professes to be American-born."
"Oh," said the girl, rather disappointedly.
"But," continued Mr. Fleck, "there's something queer about it all. He arrived in this country only three days before we went into the war. He had a certificate, properly endorsed, giving his birthplace as Cincinnati. He arrived on a Scandinavian ship. He speaks German as well and as fluently as he speaks English, both without accent."
"Perhaps he was educated abroad," suggested Jane, rather amazed at finding herself seeking to defend him.
"He must have been," said Fleck, "yet I find it hard to believe that Germany at this time is letting any young German-American come home if he's soldier material--and young Hoff's appearance certainly suggests military training."
"It surely does."
"Unless," continued Fleck, "there was some special object in sending him here."
"You think," said Jane slowly, "they sent him here--to this country--as a spy."
"In our business we dare not think. We cannot merely conjecture. We must prove," said Mr. Fleck. "Maybe the Hoffs are O.K. I do not know. Nobody knows yet. Let me tell you some of the circumstances. This much we do know. Von Bernstorff is gone. Von Papen is gone. Scores of active German sympathizers and propagandists have been rounded up and interned or imprisoned, yet, in spite of all we have done, their work goes on. A vast secret organization, well supplied with funds, is constantly at work in this country, trying to cripple our armies, trying to destroy our munition plants, trying to corrupt our citizens, trying to disrupt our Congress. Every move the United States makes is watched. As you probably know, every day now large numbers of American troops are embarking in transports in the Hudson."
"Yes," said Jane, "you can see them from our windows."
"Now then," said Mr. Fleck, lowering his voice impressively, "here is the fact. Some one somewhere on Riverside Drive is keeping close and constant tab on the warships and transports there in the river. We have managed recently to intercept and decipher some code messages. These messages told not only when the transports sailed but how many troops were on each and how strong their convoy was. Where these messages originate we have not yet learned. We are practically certain that some one in our own navy, some black-hearted traitor wearing an officer's uniform--perhaps several of them--is in communication with some one on shore, betraying our government's most vital secrets."
"I can't believe it," cried Jane, "our own American officers traitors!"
"Undoubtedly some of them are," said Mr. Fleck regretfully. "The German efficiency, for years looking forward to this war, carefully built up a far-reaching spy system. Years ago, long before the war was thought of--or at least before we in this country thought of it--many secret agents of Wilhelmstrasse were deliberately planted here. Many of them have been residents here for years, masking their real occupation by engaging in business, utilizing their time as they waited for the war to come by gathering for Germany all of our trade and commercial secrets. Some of these spies have even become naturalized, and they and their sons pass for good American citizens. In some cases they have even Americanized their names. Insidiously and persistently they have worked their way into places, sometimes into high places in our chemical plants, our steel factories, yes, even into high places in our army and navy and into governmental positions where they can gather information first-hand. In no other country has it been so easy for them, because of this one fact: so large a proportion of Uncle Sam's population is of