"
"What did you talk about on the trip home?" asked Fleck suspiciously.
"Didn't he try to pump you?"
"We hardly talked at all. He seemed concerned only in getting me home
without its becoming known that I had been in an accident."
"Is that all?" asked the chief. She could see by his manner that he
mistrusted her, that he felt that she was keeping something back.
"We hardly exchanged a dozen words," she insisted.
Fleck shook his head in a puzzled way.
"I can't understand it at all," he said. "Old Otto is a common enough
type of German, painstaking, methodical, stupid, stubborn, ready to
commit any crime for Prussia, but the young fellow is of far different
material. He has brains and daring and initiative. He is far more alert
and more dangerous. I cannot understand his finding you there and not
trying to discover what you were doing."
"I can't understand that either," Jane admitted.
"There's no doubt in my mind," the chief continued, "that Frederic Hoff
is the real conspirator, the head of the plotters."
"Why do you say that?" asked Jane quickly. "What did you find out when
you searched the apartment yesterday?"
She felt certain from the manner in which he spoke that he must now have
some damning evidence of Frederic Hoff's guilt.
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