Elusive Isabel

A free download from http://www.dertz.in


Elusive Isabel

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Elusive Isabel, by Jacques Futrelle
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Elusive Isabel
Author: Jacques Futrelle
Release Date: February 4, 2004 [EBook #10943]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELUSIVE
ISABEL ***

Produced by Steven desJardins and PG Distributed Proofreaders

ELUSIVE ISABEL
BY

JACQUES FUTRELLE
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
ALONZO KIMBALL

1908

TO
THE WONDERFUL WOMAN

CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I
MISS ISABEL THORNE
II MR. CAMPBELL AND THE CABLE
III THE LANGUAGE OF THE FAN
IV THE FLEEING WOMAN
V A VISIT TO THE COUNT
VI REVELATIONS
VII THE SIGNAL
VIII MISS THORNE AND NOT MISS THORNE
IX FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS

X A SAFE OPENING
XI THE LACE HANDKERCHIEF
XII THE VANISHING DIPLOMATIST
XIII A CONFERENCE IN THE DARK
XIV A RESCUE AND AN ESCAPE
XV MASTER OF THE SITUATION
XVI LETTERS FROM JAIL
XVII A CALL ON THE WARDEN
XVIII NOTICE TO LEAVE
XIX BY WIRELESS
XX THE LIGHT IN THE DOME
XXI A SLIP OF PAPER
XXII THE COMPACT
XXIII THE PERCUSSION CAP
XXIV THE PERSONAL EQUATION
XXV WE TWO
XXVI IN WHICH THEY BOTH WIN

ELUSIVE ISABEL

I

MISS ISABEL THORNE
All the world rubs elbows in Washington. Outwardly it is merely a city
of evasion, of conventionalities, sated with the commonplace pleasures
of life, listless, blasé even, and always exquisitely, albeit frigidly,
courteous; but beneath the still, suave surface strange currents play at
cross purposes, intrigue is endless, and the merciless war of diplomacy
goes on unceasingly. Occasionally, only occasionally, a bubble comes
to the surface, and when it bursts the echo goes crashing around the
earth. Sometimes a dynasty is shaken, a nation trembles, a ministry
topples over; but the ripple moves and all is placid again. No man may
know all that happens there, for then he would be diplomatic master of
the world.
"There is plenty of red blood in Washington," remarked a jesting
legislative gray-beard, once upon a time, "but it's always frozen before
they put it in circulation. Diplomatic negotiations are conducted in the
drawing-room, but long before that the fight is fought down cellar. The
diplomatists meet at table and there isn't any broken crockery, but you
can always tell what the player thinks of the dealer by the way he draws
three cards. Everybody is after results; and lots of monarchs of Europe
sit up nights polishing their crowns waiting for word from
Washington."
So, this is Washington! And here at dinner are the diplomatic
representatives of all the nations. That is the British ambassador, that
stolid-faced, distinguished-looking, elderly man; and this is the French
ambassador, dapper, volatile, plus-correct; here Russia's highest
representative wags a huge, blond beard; and yonder is the phlegmatic
German ambassador. Scattered around the table, brilliant splotches of
color, are the uniformed envoys of the Orient--the smaller the country
the more brilliant the splotch. It is a state dinner, to be followed by a
state ball, and they are all present.
The Italian ambassador, Count di Rosini, was trying to interpret a
French bon mot into English for the benefit of the dainty, doll-like wife
of the Chinese minister--who was educated at Radcliffe--when a
servant leaned over him and laid a sealed envelope beside his plate. The

count glanced around at the servant, excused himself to Mrs. Quong Li
Wi, and opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of embassy note
paper, and a terse line signed by his secretary:
"A lady is waiting for you here. She says she must see you immediately,
on a matter of the greatest importance."
The count read the note twice, with wrinkled brow, then scribbled on it
in pencil:
"Impossible to-night. Tell her to call at the embassy to-morrow
morning at half-past ten o'clock."
He folded the note, handed it to the servant, and resumed his
conversation with Mrs. Wi.
Half an hour later the same servant placed a second sealed envelope
beside his plate. Recognizing the superscription, the ambassador
impatiently shoved it aside, intending to disregard it. But irritated
curiosity finally triumphed, and he opened it. A white card on which
was written this command was his reward:
"It is necessary that you come to the embassy at once."
There was no signature. The handwriting was unmistakably that of a
woman, and just as unmistakably strange to him. He frowned a little as
he stared at it wonderingly, then idly turned the card over. There was
no name