The Mountain's Secret

In strong contrast with her own spirit of martyrdom was Fleck's manner.

Never before had she seen him in such high spirits as he was when he drew up before the subway station in a low car built for speed. On the seat beside the chauffeur was a young man whom she recognized as another of the operatives. As Fleck swung the door of the tonneau open for her she noticed lying on the floor under a rug several rifles and drew back questioningly.

"Come on, Miss Strong," he cried gaily. "Don't be afraid of them. We may be glad we have them before 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.