"Of course," said Jane proudly. "I was the one who deciphered them; but
what did that girl do with those messages? Carter had a theory that she
slipped them under a dachshund's collar."
"That theory's just like Carter," laughed Frederic--"regular detective
stuff. I never heard of any dachshund's being used. The girl used to
slip them into a letter box in her apartment-house hallway. Two minutes
later a man would get them and carry them to their destination."
"The traitors in our navy--the men who signalled old Otto and Lena Kraus
about the transports--who were they? They are the scoundrels I'd like to
see arrested and shot."
"Never worry. They'll all meet their deserts. I can't tell even you who
they are, but I've given your Chief Fleck a list of them. They will be
quickly rounded up now. What else can I tell you?"
"There's this," said Jane, the color rising to her cheeks as she drew
forth from its hiding place in the bosom of her gown the packet he had
entrusted to her the morning before, its seals still intact.
"What?" he cried in delight. "You kept it safe? You did not open it even
when you saw me arrested, when you must have been convinced that I was a
spy? Girl, dear girl"--his voice became a caress, and the light of love
flamed up in his eyes, "you did trust me then, in spite of everything.
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