“Well,” he asked, his serious gaze fixed upon those big blue eyes of his well-beloved, while her fair head rested upon his shoulder: “what has caused you these gloomy forebodings concerning myself, dearest? Tell me.”
“Oh, nothing,” she replied in a strange, nervous voice. “I suppose that I’m horribly silly, of course. But, knowing all that you have told me about the wonderful spy-system of Germany, I have now become gravely apprehensive regarding your safety.”
Jack saw that she was endeavouring to conceal something. What knowledge had she gained? In an instant he grew eagerly interested. Yet he did not, at the moment, press her further.
“And you think that the fact of carrying a gun will be a protection to me, do you, little one? Well, most women believe that. Yet, as a matter of fact, firearms are very little protection. If a man is seriously marked down by an enemy, a whole army of detectives cannot save him. Think of the political assassinations, anarchist outrages, and the like. Police protection has usually proved futile.”
“But you can take proper ordinary precautions,” she suggested.
“And pray, dear, why do you ask me to take precautions?” he inquired. Then, looking earnestly into her eyes, he added very gravely: “Something—or somebody—has put all these grim fears into your head. Now, dearest, tell me the truth,” he urged.
She made no response. Her eyes were downcast, and he saw that she hesitated. For what reason?
“Whoever has put all these silly ideas into your head, darling, is responsible to me!” he said in a hard voice.
“Well, Jack, I—I really can’t help it. I—I love you, as you know; and I can’t bear to think that you are running into danger, as you undoubtedly are.”
He looked into her pretty face again.