But I fear--yes, actually fear for
your life when he finds out!"
"Don't be at all uneasy about me, Miss Huston," begged Jack, with cool
confidence. "I have had rather a sturdy training in the art of taking
care of myself."
Though he did not allow the girl to see the motion, Jack felt stealthily
at his right hip pocket. Yes; the loaded revolver was there. Jack did
not believe much in the practice of carrying concealed weapons. He had
great contempt both for the nerve and the judgment of fool boys who
carried revolvers, loaded or otherwise. But just now the situation was
different. Jack Benson was an acting lieutenant in the United States
Navy. Just before leaving the Navy Department he and his comrades had
each been advised to take a proffered weapon and carry it against the
chance that they might find Millard--or Graves--in Washington, and
find themselves under the necessity of taking him prisoner.
"Spies and traitors are taken alive or dead," the official had remarked
who had handed them the weapons.
"How much further have we to go?" Jack inquired, as the cab turned down
a country lane.
"Only a very short distance, now," replied Daisy Huston.
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