None of the prisoners, since the moment the shackles had been put on, had uttered a word.  Sullen silence held all of them unprotestingly in its grip.  Even Frederic kept his peace, though from time to time his glance roved about, seeking Jane, and always in his eyes was a strange look, not of defeat, nor of shame, but rather of exultant triumph.  Jane still dared not trust herself to look in his direction, but Fleck and Carter, too, observed curiously the expression in his eyes.  Was he, they wondered, rejoicing over Dean’s untimely end?  Did he, with true Prussian arrogance, in spite of the failure of his plot, still dare to hope that with Dean out of the way, he might escape punishment and yet win Jane Strong?  Even as they picked him up, the last of the prisoners, and put him in the rear seat of the chief’s car, his eyes still sought for Jane.

It was long after midnight before the strange cavalcade left the mountain shack.  Fleck’s car led the way, with the chief himself at the wheel, and Jane beside him.  Crowded on the rear seat were Frederic and two other prisoners, and standing in the tonneau, facing them with his revolver drawn in case they should make an attempt to escape in spite of their shackles, was Fleck’s chauffeur.  Carter was at the wheel of the second car with five prisoners and a man on guard, and the arrangement in the third car was the same.  Six men and a girl to transport thirteen prisoners!  Inwardly Fleck was congratulating himself on his forethought in having provided shackles enough to go around, for otherwise he surely would have had a perilous job on his hands.

As they rode down the mountain lane, Jane rejoiced at the darkness that hid her face, both from Fleck and from Frederic on the seat behind.  Now that there was no activity to distract her maddening thoughts once more paced in turmoil through her brain.  She loved this man, and she was leading him to disgrace and death.  She hated and despised him.  He was a treacherous, dangerous enemy of her country whom she had helped to trap, and she was glad, glad, glad.  No, no!  She wasn’t glad.  She loved him.  He had given her that sealed packet and had charged her to keep it for him.  He couldn’t be all bad.  Why must she love him?  Her mind told her he was a criminal, an enemy, a spy, a murderer, yet her wilful heart insisted that she loved him.  How strange life was!  She and Frederic loved each other.  Why could they not marry and be happy?  Why was War?  Why must nations fight?  Why must people hate each other?  Was the whole world mad?  Was she going mad herself?

Slowly and carefully, Fleck, with his lights on full, had steered the automobile down the narrow roadway through the woods.  He had just turned the car safely into the main road, and stopped to look back to see how closely the other cars were following.  Suddenly from the wayside a dozen men in uniform sprang up, the glint of their guns made visible by the automobile lights.