The Apartment Next Door by William Andrew Johnston (iphone ebook reader txt) 📕

nephew at all, but really his superior, sent over especially by Wilhelmstrasse to take charge of the plotters. He doesn't in the least resemble old Hoff."

"No indeed, he doesn't," admitted Jane. "He certainly is clever, too. We haven't learned a single thing that incriminates him, have we?"

"Nothing definite, yet everything taken together looks damaging enough. Here is a young German of military age and appearance, who arrived from Sweden just before we went into the war. He has plenty of money and spends his time idling about New York, in frequent communication with at least one navy officer. He selects a home overlooking the river from which our soldiers are departing for France. You yourself saw him pursuing K-19--the other K-19--who a few hours afterward was found murdered."

"Things don't look right," Jane agreed, yet a few hours later as she sat opposite the young man at tea, she found herself doubting. It seemed incredible, impossible, that Frederic Hoff could be a murderer. Her instinctive sense of justice forced her to admit that it was hard for her to believe him even a spy. He seemed so cultured, so clean, so straightforward, so nice. If she had not seen that unforgettable look of hate on his face that night as she watched him from the window she could not, she would not have believed evil of him.

The tremor of nervous excitement in which she met him quickly passed, and she found herself once more chatting intimately with him and enjoying it. He talked well on practically all subjects, showing reserve only when she tried to draw him out about himself. Her previous experiences with the opposite sex had taught her that most men's favorite topic of conversation is themselves, but Mr. Hoff appeared to be the exception. Adroitly he baffled all her efforts to get him to discuss his family, his achievements, or his past, even when she sought to encourage intimacy by telling about her brother who was abroad in Pershing's army.

"You must let me be your big brother while he is away," her escort had suggested gallantly.

"All right, brother," she had challenged him. "I'll take you on at once. I have seats for a matinée to-morrow. I'd much rather go with a brother than with one of the girls."

"I would be delighted," he answered unsuspectingly, "but unfortunately I have an engagement that takes me out of town."

"We'll go next week, then--Wednesday."

"A week is too long to wait. Let me take you to a matinée on Saturday."

Jane hesitated. At times her conscience troubled her not a little. While satisfied that the importance of her trust wholly justified her actions, she disliked any deception of her family.

"Wouldn't it be better," she parried, "if you came to call on me some evening first? You've only just met my mother, and I would like you to know Dad, too."

"May I?" he cried with manifest pleasure. "How about to-morrow evening?"

"That's Wednesday," she answered slowly. That was the day she and Dean were planning to put in a dictograph. She wondered at herself calmly carrying on this casual conversation with the man she was planning to betray. Coloring a little from the very shame of it, she continued, "How about making it Thursday evening?"

"Delighted," cried Hoff, "and about Saturday's matinée--what haven't you seen?"

Glad for the respite of at least twenty-four hours, Jane, as they talked, watched his face, his expression, his eyes. Regardless of the things she believed about him, he impressed her as honest and sincere. Certainly there was no mistaking the fact that his liking for her and his delight in her society were wholly genuine. Her heart warned her that it was his intention to press their new-formed acquaintance into close intimacy. Was he, she wondered, like herself, pretending friendship merely to unmask secrets for his government? No, she could not, she would not believe it. She felt sure that his admiration was unfeigned. Something told her that quickly his ardor and determination might lead her into embarrassing circumstances. He might even ask her to marry him. For a moment she was overcome with timidity and tempted to stop short on her new career, but there came to her the thought of the brave Americans in the trenches, of the soldiers at sea, of the brutal, lurking U-boats, and sternly she put aside all personal considerations.

"You spoke of going out of town," she said when the subject of the matinée had been disposed of. "Don't you find train travel rather disagreeable these days?"

"Fortunately I'm motoring."

"That will be nice, if you don't have to travel too far."

"It is quite a distance for one day, but I am used to it. I make the trip often."

Feeling that at least she had learned something, Jane rose to go. She knew that both the Hoffs would be out of the way to-morrow. The inference from his last remark was that they were going to the same place they had gone on previous Wednesdays. That was something to report to Mr. Fleck.

"My car is outside," she said as they rose. "Can't I take you home?"

"Sorry," said her host, "but I am dining here to-night. Lieutenant Kramer is to join me."

"Remember me to him," she said as he escorted her to the automobile, driven by Dean.

A block away from the hotel she tapped on the glass, and as Dean brought the car to a stop she climbed into the seat beside him. Only a week ago she would have criticized any girl who rode beside the chauffeur. In fact she had spoken disapprovingly of a girl in her own set who made a habit of doing it, but now she never gave it a thought. Many things in her life seemed to have assumed new aspects and values since she had entered on a career of useful activity. In her was rapidly developing something of her father's ability and directness. As she wanted to talk confidentially with Dean, she went the easiest way about it, entirely regardless of appearances.

"Apparently you carried it off well," he commented.

"I hope so," she answered, coloring a little. "They're making their usual Wednesday motor trip."

"He did not tell you their destination?"

"No, but Lieutenant Kramer is dining with him to-night at the Biltmore."

"Fine. Those things the Chief can take care of. That leaves the way clear for us to-morrow afternoon."

"What excuse will I make for having you come up to the apartment?"

"You want me to change some pictures. That will account for the wire if I'm caught."

"I hope no one sees you."

"Nobody'll see me but the elevator man, and he'll think nothing of it."

Apparently, too, Dean was right, for the next afternoon he entered the Strong apartment carrying a suitcase in which was concealed his apparatus and the necessary wire.

"Hurry," cried Jane, who was waiting for him. "The Hoffs' maid has just gone up on the roof."

"We can safely give her at least a few minutes," said Dean setting to work to make a hole through the wall into the apartment adjoining. Just as he had finished making it and had pushed one end of the wire through, the telephone bell rang, and Jane in dismay sprang to answer it.

"Disguise your voice," warned Dean. "If it is a caller say there is no one home."

"It was Lieutenant Kramer calling," said Jane as she returned.

"Did he recognize your voice?"

"I don't think so."

"What did he say?"

"He said to tell Miss Strong that he had called."

"Then he didn't suspect you."

"Isn't there danger, though, that he may come up to the Hoff apartment?"

Dean sprang to the window and looked out at the street below.

"No, there he goes up the street. He evidently did not try to see if the Hoffs were at home. That's funny."

"Why funny?"

"It means of course that he, too, knows about those Wednesday trips the Hoffs make."

Cautiously he opened the door into the public hall. There was no one about. Catlike in swiftness and silence he moved to the Hoff door and inserted his new-made key. It worked perfectly.

"Now," he whispered to Jane, "to the roof--quick. I must not be taken by surprise. Give me at least ten minutes more--fifteen if you can."

Quickly he passed inside, closing the door behind him all but a barely noticeable crack, as Jane rang for the elevator and bade the operator take her to the roof. As she emerged there and stood waiting for the elevator to descend again, an ornamental lattice screened her from the rest of the roof. Cautiously and curiously she peered between the slats, trying to see what the Hoff servant was doing at the moment. She decided that she would not reveal her presence until the woman made ready to go down-stairs.

As from behind her screen she scanned the roof she espied old Lena over on the side next the river bending over a half-filled basket of clothes, apparently putting into the basket some of the freshly dried laundry from the lines extending all over the roof. As Jane watched her the old woman straightened herself up and cast a cautious glance about. Apparently satisfied that she was alone she whipped out something from a pocket in her apron and turned in the direction of the river.

Jane gasped in amazement, a thrill of excitement sweeping over her at this new discovery. It was plain that the old servant was studying the transports in the river below through a pair of powerful field glasses. Curiously Jane observed her, wondering what she was trying to ascertain, wondering if through the glasses she was able to identify the battleships and other boats. Old Lena's next move was still more puzzling. Hastily dropping her glasses into the basket she began to hang again on the line some of the clothes. They were handkerchiefs, Jane noted interestedly, one large red one, and the rest white, some large, some small, a whole long row of nothing but handkerchiefs.

All at once it came to Jane what it must mean. The arrangement of the handkerchiefs must be some sort of a code. She studied the way they were placed, committing the order to memory. "Red--two large--one small--one large--one small." Of course it was a code, a signal to some one aboard one of the ships.

The line of handkerchiefs completed old Lena once more took up her glasses, first looking around as before to see if any one were on the roof. How Jane wished that she, too, could see the ships from where she stood. Was some traitor in the navy wigwagging to the old woman? She was tempted to spring forward and seize her and stop this dastardly signalling, but she remembered her duty. She was there to see that Dean was not surprised by old Lena's return. So long as the woman kept signalling he was safe.

Once more the laundress dropped her glasses and began frantically rearranging the handkerchiefs. Again Jane noted their order--red--two small--one large--three small--two large. Again the laundress resorted to the glasses, and at last, apparently satisfied, began taking down the rest of the laundry and making ready to leave the roof. Trying to act as if she had just arrived, Jane stepped boldly forward.

"I wonder," she said approaching the woman, "if you can tell me where I can find a good laundress."

"Nicht versteh" said old Lena, eyeing her suspiciously and hostilely, and at the same time attempting to pass her with the basket of clothes.

Deliberately blocking the way, Jane repeated her question, this time in German, feeling thankful that her language studies at school were not wholly forgotten and that they had included such practical phrases as those required to hire and discharge maids and complain about the quality of their work.

"I know no one," the old woman answered her, this time in English.

Jane breathed fast with excitement. The laundress' slip of the tongue, after denying that she understood, was evidence in itself of her deliberate duplicity. Realizing her mistake, the old woman now sullenly refused to answer any questions, merely shaking her head and trying