ng 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.

"Jove, but she's a stunning girl for nerve and principle," thought
Lieutenant Jack, admiringly. "She's going, now, to what must be the
tragedy of her plans and hopes, yet she has her color back again,
and looks as composed as though out only for an airing!"

"There is the house," almost whispered the girl, at last, resting a
steady, cool hand on his arm.

Jack looked and saw the place--a little, oldfashioned house, standing
in among trees, some hundred feet from the road. In that swift glance
he also noted that there were no ether buildings near.

Daisy Huston did not ask whether the young man at her side proposed to
try to arrest the man he sought. She was too discreet to pry into his
plans.

Up into the little yard before the house the horses trotted. Then,
just as the cab was coming to a stop, the driver cracked his whip-lash
twice.

Immediately the door flew open. Millard, as Jack Benson knew him,
stepped out jauntily, a smile of delight on his face.

"Good enough, Daisy," he cried, as he strode toward the cab. "I see
that you have won Benson over to our side. He shall be my friend,
after this. But, Daisy, _what_--"

For the girl had sprung lightly out ere Jack Benson could assist her.
The girl now stood, drawn to her full height, yet without affecting
any theatrical pose. But over her lips hovered a smile of cool disdain
that the look in her eyes heightened.

"Don't lie to me any more, Donald Graves," commanded the girl, steadily,
"and don't deceive yourself. Both tasks, I know, will be hard for a
man so vile that he'd sell his country's Flag!"

Millard stared at her in growing horror. Then anger rushed to his face.

"Daisy!" he gasped. "