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What is Romance?


Reading books RomanceReading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.
In this genre the characters can be both real historical figures and the author's imagination. Thanks to such historical romantic novels, you can see another era through the eyes of eyewitnesses.
Critics will say that romance is too predictable. That if you know how it ends, there’s no point in reading it. Sorry, but no. It’s okay to choose between genres to get what you need from your books. But in romance the happy ending is a feature.It’s so romantic to describe the scene when you have found your True Love like in “fairytale love story.”




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Read books online » Romance » The Apartment Next Door by William Andrew Johnston (best e reader for manga .txt) 📖

Book online «The Apartment Next Door by William Andrew Johnston (best e reader for manga .txt) 📖». Author William Andrew Johnston



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we return from our hunting expedition."

"But," she asked hesitatingly as she took her seat beside him, "you don't expect to shoot these men--without a trial."

Her heart seemed torn in anguish as she sensed anew the peril that lay ahead for Frederic. Misgivings that she might be unable to fulfil her task seized her, and she was smitten with reproach for her own conduct toward him. Why, an hour ago, when there was still opportunity, had she not warned Frederic? If he were really sincere in the affection he professed for her maybe she might have persuaded him, if not to betray his comrades, at least to abandon them and escape from the country. Yet even now her reason told her that any plea she might have made would have been worse than futile. Above and beyond his love for her she understood that he held sacred what he conceived to be his duty, his misguided duty to his erring country. It was too late now for regrets, for repentance, too late for her to do anything but to try to serve her country, cost her what it might, yet anxiously she awaited Chief Fleck's reply to her question.

"Wouldn't I shoot them all on sight, gladly, the damned spies," he responded. "That's the great trouble with this country, Miss Strong. We're too soft-hearted and chivalrous. The Germans realize that war and sentiment have no place together. If killing babies and destroying churches will in their opinion help them win the war they do it without compunction. The civilized world decided that poison gas was too brutal and dastardly for use, even against an enemy, but that didn't stop the Huns from using it. They put duty to Germany above all else, and if their country expects it are ready to rob, murder, use bombs, betray friends, do anything and everything, comforted by the knowledge that even if we do catch them at it here in this country all we will do to them will be put them in jail for a year or two. If I had my way I'd shoot them all on sight."

"Without any evidence--without trying them?" questioned Jane.

"Without trial, yes--without evidence, no; but in the case of these Hoffs we have evidence enough to stand them both up and shoot them."

"Have you learned more?" she asked quickly. "Is Frederic, too, involved with his uncle?"

He shot an appraising glance at her. He had been inclined to regard Dean's suspicion that she was in love with the younger Hoff as the mere figment of jealousy, but where two young persons of the opposite sex are thrown together, there is always the possibility of romance. Jane colored a little under his searching glance, yet what he read in her face seemed to satisfy his doubts, and he made up his mind to take her fully into his confidence.

"Thanks to your quick wit in reading those advertisements," he said, "we have now a fairly complete index of the Hoffs' activities in the last six months. I have been spending the last two hours in going over all the Dento advertisements that have appeared. For weeks they have been sending out a regular series of bulletins."

"Bulletins about what?" asked Jane.

"About everything of interest to the secret enemies of our country: explanations of where and how to get false passports, detailed statements of the sailings of our transports, directions for obtaining materials for making bombs, instructions for blowing up munition plants, suggestions for smuggling rubber, orders for fomenting strikes. They even had the nerve to use the name of William Foxley, signed to a testimonial for Dento."

"Who is William Foxley?" asked Jane curiously.

"In the Wilhelmstrasse code that was in use when Von Bernstorff was still in this country; in sending their wireless messages they made frequent use of proper names which had a code meaning. Boy-ed was 'Richard Houston,' Von Papen was 'Thomas Hoggson' and Bolo Pascha was always mentioned as 'St. Regis,' In this same code 'William Foxley' always meant the German Foreign Office."

"But surely you did not learn this from the advertisements?"

"Not at all. Hugo Schmidt, who was reputed to be the paymaster of the gang, was caught trying to burn a copy of this code at the German Club. With the records of their wireless messages our government managed to reconstruct the whole code. The use of a word or two from this code in these advertisements is most significant. It shows that whoever prepared these advertisements was high in the confidence of the German government. Only the very topnotch spies are likely to be permitted to know the diplomatic code."

"And you think, then, that Otto Hoff may be the head of the conspirators in this country?" said Jane.

"Not Otto--Frederic," said Fleck quickly. "The young man, I am certain, was the director, probably sent out from Berlin after the country became too hot for Von Papen and Boy-ed. The old man, I believe, merely carried out his orders. I doubt even if they are uncle and nephew."

"I think you are wrong about that," protested Jane. "Whenever I was listening over the dictograph it was always the old man who was so bitter against America. It was he who talked about the wonder-workers and the necessity for haste. I never heard Frederic say anything--anything disloyal, that is."

"The fact that he knew enough to keep his mouth closed shows that he is the more intelligent of the two. Don't forget, too, that at times he even dared to don the uniform of a British officer. You saw him yourself. Undoubtedly he is the more dangerous of the pair."

"But who read these advertisements?" asked Jane, seeking to change the subject. "For whom were the bulletins intended?"

"It was one of their ways of keeping in communication with their thousands of secret agents all over this country. I wouldn't be surprised if occasionally these advertisements were printed in Texas papers and shipped over the border into Mexico. We have been watching the mails and the telephone and telegraph lines for months, yet all the while Mexico has been sending messages across, telling the U-boats everything they needed to know. We never thought of checking up the advertising in papers in the Mexican mail."

"But what about the messages old Mr. Hoff left in the bookstores? Was that part of the plan, too?"

"It may have been simply a duplicate method of communication in case the other failed. The Germans here know that they are constantly watched and take every precaution. We'll land that girl as soon as we have the Hoffs safe behind the bars, and then we'll soon see if Carter's dachshund theory was right."

"But who," asked Jane, "is the spy in our navy? Who signalled the Hoffs' apartment and supplied them with the news about our transports? Was it Lieutenant Kramer?"

"Probably," said Chief Fleck carelessly, "that is not my end of the work. It is up to the Naval Intelligence Bureau to clean out the spies in the navy. I'm after the boss-spy. After we land him it will be easier to get the small fry. A defiant German prisoner once boasted to me that Germany had a man on every American ship, in every American regiment, and in every department in Washington. I suspect it comes pretty near being true. A country that has so many citizens with German names and such an enormous population of German descent has its hands full."

As they talked the chief's car had crossed the ferry, and turning north through Englewood, was heading rapidly in the direction of West Point.

"Where are we going now?" Jane ventured to ask. "To the place where I was yesterday--where we had the accident?"

"Not directly," the chief replied. "I sent Carter and some men up there ahead of us to do some reconnoitering. I'll get in touch with Carter at the restaurant at the State Park. He was to call me up. We are nearly there now."

As the car swung into the park and stopped before the entrance of the two-story restaurant building, Fleck sprang hastily out and started for the telephone but stopped abruptly at the sight of a young man with bandaged head and with one arm in a sling who rose from the concrete steps of the building to greet him.

"Why, Dean," he exclaimed in amazement, "what are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"You don't think I was going to be left out at the finish," laughed the chauffeur.

"But your injuries, your arm--"

"Both all right, as right as they'll be for several weeks."

"But how did you know we were coming here? How did you manage to get here?"

"Carter stopped on his way out to make sure about the road. I wanted to come with him, but there was no room in his car. He refused to bring me, anyhow. I managed to worm out of him what your plans were, and the doctor's jitney did the rest."

"Well," growled the chief, with simulated indignation, though secretly delighted with Dean's show of spirit, "I suppose there's nothing else to do but to take you along. Climb in there beside Miss Strong."

As Dean approached the car Jane rose in amazement.

"Oh, Thomas, Mr. Dean," she cried, "I'm so glad to see you. I was afraid yesterday that you had been badly hurt."

"It was a close shave for both of us," he admitted, flushing with delight at the warmth of her greeting, "but what are you doing here? The Chief had no business to bring you on a trip like this."

All his affection for the girl had revived at this unexpected sight of her, and with a lover's righteous anxiety he resented Fleck's having exposed her to the probable perils of this expedition to the enemy's secret lair.

"They needed me," she said simply, "to show them the way."

"That need exists no longer," he protested, "since I am here. The Chief must send you back."

"Don't be absurd," she objected warmly.

"But it is no place for a woman," he insisted doggedly, kicking meaningly at the rifles on the floor of the car. "There may be a fight. These men are desperate and dangerous and more than likely will resist any attempt to arrest them."

"I want to be there to see it if they do," said Jane calmly.

"Please, won't you, for my sake," he begged, "go back home or at least wait here for us?"

"I won't," said the girl doggedly.

"I'll ask the Chief to send you back."

"Don't you dare," she retorted hotly, resenting his air of protection toward her.

She was glad for the presence of the two other men in the car. She sensed that it was only their being there that kept Dean from making a scene. There was nothing in his manner toward her now of the obsequious chauffeur. While she admitted to herself that there was no longer the necessity for his continuing in his fictitious character she strongly resented his loverlike jealousy for her welfare and welcomed the chief's return, for she saw from his face, as he came running up to the car, that he had received some sort of news that had highly delighted him.

Almost before he was in the car he had given orders to start, leaving no opportunity for Dean to make his threatened protest against Jane's presence.

"I got Carter on the 'phone," Fleck explained hurriedly as they swung out of the park and turned northward. "He has succeeded in locating the place the Hoffs go every week. It is about three miles back off the road, over toward the river from the place where you two had that accident yesterday. Away off there in the woods in a deserted locality is a sort of club, the members of which are Austrians or Germans. They have given it out that they are health enthusiasts and mountain climbers, 'Friends of the Air,' they call themselves."

"Who are they really? What are they doing there?" asked Jane interestedly.

"Carter has not had time yet to learn much about them. The place was some sort

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