They gave two of my men the slip last week somewhere the
other side of Tarrytown. Let's hope they are not so successful
this time."
"But won't they recognize me?"
"Not if you disguise yourself with goggles and a dust coat. Dean can
make up, too. He had practice enough at college, eh, Dean?"
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.
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