The Apartment Next Door by William Andrew Johnston (best e reader for manga .txt) 📖

near-by. Seeing herself observed the girl stopped, and at a sign from Carter wheeled her charge up to where they were standing.

"K-22," said Carter, "I want to introduce you to K-19."

Gravely the two girls, nodding, inspected each other.

"She always wears a blue bow at her neck," Carter added, "so you can recognize her by that."

The girl smilingly nodded again and wheeled the carriage on up the Drive.

"Who is she?" Jane asked eagerly, turning to Carter.

"Just K-22," said the agent, "and all she knows about you is that you are K-19. That's the way we work in the service mostly. The less one operative knows about another the better, for what you don't know you can't talk about."

"Doesn't she even know my name?" persisted Jane.

"She may have found it out for herself while she has been watching the Hoffs, but we didn't tell her. Nobody in the service knows who you are except the Chief and myself--and of course K-27 will have to know if he takes the chauffeur's job."

"What is his name?"

"I don't know yet," said Carter gravely. "I haven't seen his references, so I don't know what name they are made out in. You can find out what to call him when he reports to-night. You'll see that he gets the job?"

"Indeed I will," answered Jane, experiencing a sense of relief at the prospect of having some one at hand in the household with whom she could discuss her activities.

And as she had anticipated she had little difficulty in interesting her father in the subject of a new chauffeur. Mr. Strong for several days had been trying to find one without success.

"You say this man's last place was with the British High Commission."

"Some one of the girls was telling me," she prevaricated. "I asked her to tell him to come here to-night at eight. He ought to be here any minute."

Presently the candidate for the place was announced.

"Mr. Thomas Dean to see about a chauffeur's position," the maid said as she brought him in, and while her father questioned him, Jane studied him carefully.

He could not be more than thirty, she decided, and the voice in which he answered her father's questions was surely a cultivated one. It would not have surprised her in the least to have learned that he was a college man. Even in his neat chauffeur's uniform he seemed every inch a gentleman. He had been driving a car for twelve years, he explained. No, he did not drink and had never been arrested for speeding.

"Are you a married man?"

Jane listened curiously for his answer to this question of her father's. Surely it would be far more interesting if he wasn't. Of course, he was a chauffeur and a detective, but somehow she could not help feeling, perhaps because of his easy manner, that more than likely most of the cars he had driven were cars that he himself had owned. K-27 she decided was going to be quite a satisfactory partner to work with.

"There's just one thing," said her father. "You say you are not married. I can't understand why it is that you are not in the army."

"I am not eligible," said Thomas Dean calmly, though Jane thought she could detect a twinkle in his eye. "One of my legs has been broken in three places."

"But there are things a young fellow can do for his country besides marching," insisted Mr. Strong. "The government needs mechanics, too."

"I know," said Thomas Dean, almost humbly, "but I have a mother, and my father is dead."

Jane smiled a little to herself at his answer. She noted how carefully he had avoided saying anything about having a mother to support. It would not have surprised her in the least to have learned that he was a millionaire, yet her father, ordinarily shrewd in judging men, apparently was satisfied.

"Supporting a mother, I suppose, comes first," he said. "Well, Dean, when can you come?"

"To-morrow morning if you like," the new chauffeur answered, nodding gravely to Jane as he withdrew.

Mr. Strong, as soon as they were alone, spoke enthusiastically about the young man, complimenting Jane on having discovered him, and as he did so a revulsion of feeling swept over her. For the first time she realized into what duplicity her work for the government was leading her. She had pledged her word to Chief Fleck that she would keep her activities an absolute secret even from her parents. Already she was deceiving them, bringing into the household an employee who really was a detective, a spy. She was tempted to tell her father, at least, what she was doing. He, she knew, was filled with a high spirit of patriotism. While he might not wholly approve of what she herself was doing she might be able to convince him of the necessity of it. If she could only tell him, her conscience would not trouble her, but there was her promise--her sacred promise; she couldn't break that.

While with troubled mind she debated with herself between her duty to her parents and her duty to her country, one of the maids came in with a box of flowers for her.

Eagerly she cut the string and opened the box. Chief Fleck especially wanted her to cultivate young Hoff's acquaintance. If her suspicion as to the sender were correct, she could feel that she had made an auspicious beginning.

In a tremor of excitement she snatched off the lid of the box and tore out the accompanying card from its envelope.

"Mr. Frederic Johann Hoff," it read, "in appreciation of a most profitable afternoon."

Wondering at the peculiar sentiment of the card she tore off the enclosing tissue paper from the flowers. Orchids, wonderful, delicately tinted orchids, nestled in a sheaf of feathery green fern--five of them.

"Five orchids--the fifth book--a profitable afternoon."

Jane felt sure now she had betrayed the government's watchers to at least one of the watched.

CHAPTER VII THE WOMAN ON THE ROOF

It is amazing how much information on any given subject any one--even a wholly inexperienced person like Jane Strong--can acquire within a few days when one's mind is set resolutely to the task. It is much more amazing how much one can learn when aided and abetted by an experienced chauffeur, or more properly speaking a mysterious and cultured secret service operative, masquerading as an automobile driver.

Who Thomas Dean was, why he was in the secret service, and what his real name was, were questions that kept perpetually puzzling Jane. In the presence of her father and mother, so skilful an actor was he that it was hard to believe him anything but what he appeared to be, a respectful, intelligent and prompt young man who knew the traffic regulations and the anatomy of automobiles. When he and Jane were by themselves he invariably threw off his mask to some extent. He became the director instead of the directed, though never letting anything of the personal relation creep in. That he was college-bred, Jane felt certain. He spoke both German and French much better than she did. He occasionally used words that no ordinary chauffeur would be likely to know the meaning of. Sharing the secret of such a mission as theirs, they quickly found themselves on a friendly basis, yet the girl hesitated whenever her curiosity prompted her to try to find out anything that would reveal his identity. There was always present the feeling that any exhibition of undue curiosity on her part would be a disappointment to her employer. The chief disapproved of curiosity except on one subject--what the Germans were doing.

Many things Jane and her aide learned about the Hoffs in the days following Thomas Dean's coming, reporting them all as directed. Of how much or of how little value her discoveries were Jane had no means of knowing. Chief Fleck seemed satisfied but was always urging her to acquire more information and more details, always details. Dean, too, had seconded the warning about observing even what seemed to be insignificant trifles.

"Most of the Germans," he said to her, "you will find are very methodical. They like to do things according to schedule. For instance, I learned yesterday that old Hoff and his nephew frequently go off on all-day automobile trips. They always go on Wednesday."

"Are they going to-morrow?"

"The presumption is that they will. They have done so every Wednesday for six weeks."

"Can't we follow them in our car?" cried the girl, "and see what they are up to?"

Dean shook his head.

"The Chief is looking out for that. There is more important work for us to do right here. I want to try to install a dictograph in their apartment."

"How exciting."

"You must find some excuse for me to come up into your apartment and see to it that none of your people are about."

"That will be easy. Mother and Aunt will be out all day, and it is cook's afternoon off. I can easily send the maids out."

"But that's not all. There is the Hoffs' servant to be disposed of."

"I don't see how I can manage that," said Jane. She could think of no possible way of overcoming that difficulty.

"She's an old German woman--Lena Kraus," continued Dean. "I've found out that she always washes on Wednesdays. When she goes up on the roof in the afternoon to get the clothes will be our time. It will be your job to see that she stays there until I am through. It will not take me more than half an hour."

"But what will I do if she starts to come down? How will I stop her?"

"You'll have to use your wits. Keep her talking as long as you can. When she starts down come with her. Press the elevator button four times. I'll leave the door of the Hoff apartment open and very likely will hear it in time to get away."

"But how'll you get their door open?"

Dean smilingly drew forth a key.

"I borrowed the superintendent's bunch last night, pretending I had lost the key to my locker in the basement. I knew he had a master-key that unlocks all the apartment doors, and there was no trouble in picking it out. I had some wax in my hand and made an impression of it right under his nose."

"How clever," cried Jane, "but suppose the Hoffs do not go off to-morrow. What will we do then?"

"You are taking tea with young Hoff this afternoon, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Jane, "that is, he asked me to. I am to meet him at the Biltmore at five."

"When you're with him propose doing something together to-morrow afternoon. See what he says."

"That's an excellent idea. I'll ask him to go to the matinée with me."

"That will do splendidly. Has he been with that navy officer lately?"

"Not since Sunday, to my knowledge. I wonder if old Mr. Hoff has left any more cipher messages at the bookshop?"

"No," said Dean, "he hasn't. The place has been constantly watched, but he hasn't been near it since that first day."

"I'm afraid," sighed Jane despondently, "I betrayed the fact that we were watching them to the nephew. He overheard me talking to Carter about the 'fifth book,' and of course he knew what it meant. I'm certain the old man is still reporting about our transports. Every day I can hear some one telephoning to him. He waits for the message, and then he goes out."

"He certainly is expert in eluding shadowers," admitted Dean. "Every day he has been followed, but always he manages to give the operatives the slip. He must know he is being watched."

"I'm anxious to know what the nephew will say to me to-day," said Jane. "I know he knows what I am doing. He looks at me in such an amusedly superior way every time he sees me."

"Be careful about trying to pump him," cautioned Dean. "He strikes me as by far the more intelligent of the two. It would not surprise me in the least if he were not old Hoff's