“Did you ever receive a letter warning you?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ve had several. One was, I believe, in the same handwriting as yours,” was his rather careless reply.
“You never told me of them!”
“Because I discarded them,” he said. “I believe I’ve had quite half a dozen at various times, but I pay no attention to people who don’t sign their names.”
Elise Shearman sighed. In her fine blue eyes there was a distinctly troubled look.
She loved Jack very deeply and tenderly. What if these people actually did make an attempt upon his life? Suppose he were killed! That the spies of Germany had every motive to put an end to his activity in ferreting them out, was quite plain. Indeed, her father, knowing nothing of the anonymous letter, had referred to it that evening. He had declared that her lover was running very grave risks. It had been this remark which had set her thinking more deeply and more apprehensively.
Jack saw that she was worrying, therefore he kissed her fondly, and reassured her that no harm would befall him.
“I’ll take every precaution possible, in order to satisfy you, my darling,” he declared, his strong arms again around her as he held her closely to him.
They looked indeed a handsome pair—he tall, good-looking, strong and manly, and she dainty and fair, with a sweet, delightful expression upon her pretty face.
“Then—then you really love me, Jack?” she faltered, looking up into his face as he whispered into her delicate ear, regretting if any ill-considered word he had uttered had pained her.