The exciting developments of the night before still were to her very
puzzling. She recalled Frederic's identification of himself, and after
that all was blank. When she had come to she had found herself in a
motor being rapidly driven toward New York in the early dawn, with
Carter as her escort. He had not been inclined to be at all
communicative.
"Let the Captain tell you the story himself," said Carter. "He knows all
the details."
"But when can I see him?" questioned Jane. "When," she hesitated,
remembering the shameful bonds that had held him, "when will he
be free?"
"He's as free this minute as we are," Carter explained. "It didn't take
the Chief long to get the bracelets off, after Colonel Brook-White had
identified him. There's a lot for the Captain to do still, but rest
assured, he'll waste no time getting back to the city to see you."
"I hope not," sighed the girl.
She was too weary, too weak from the revulsion of feeling that had come
on learning that her lover instead of being a dastardly spy was a
wonderful hero, to make even a pretense at maidenly modesty. She wanted
to see Frederic too much to care what any one thought.
Slipping into her home fortunately without arousing any of her family,
she had gone to bed with the intention of getting a rest of an hour or
two.
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