Elusive Isabel | Page 7

Strauss waltz.
"I'm going to faint in a moment," she said quite calmly to Mr. Rankin.
"Please have me sent to the ladies' dressing-room."
"I understand," he replied quietly.

IV
THE FLEEING WOMAN
Mr. Grimm went straight to a quiet nook of the smoking-room and
there, after a moment, Mr. Campbell joined him. The bland
benevolence of the chief's face was disturbed by the slightest
questioning uplift of his brows as he dropped into a seat opposite Mr.
Grimm, and lighted a cigar. Mr. Grimm raised his hand, and a servant
who stood near, approached them.
"An ice--here," Mr. Grimm directed tersely.
The servant bowed and disappeared, and Mr. Grimm hastily scribbled

something on a sheet of paper and handed it to his chief.
"There is a reading, in the Morse code, of a message that seems to be
unintelligible," Mr. Grimm explained. "I have reason to believe it is in
the Continental code. You know the Continental--I don't."
Mr. Campbell read this:
"St5ut man fed qaje neaf j5nsefvat5f," and then came the unknown,
dash-dot-dash-dash. "That," he explained, "is Y in the Continental
code." It went on: "d55f bfing 5vef when g g5es."
The chief read it off glibly:
"Stout man, red face, near conservatory door. Bring over when G
goes."
"Very well!" commented Mr. Grimm ambiguously.
With no word of explanation, he rose and went out, pausing at the door
to take the ice which the servant was bringing in. The seat where he had
left Señorita Rodriguez was vacant; so was the chair where Miss
Thorne had been. He glanced about inquiringly, and a servant who
stood stolidly near the conservatory door approached him.
"Pardon, sir, but the lady who was sitting here," and he indicated the
chair where Miss Thorne had been sitting, "fainted while dancing, and
the lady who was with you went along when she was removed to the
ladies' dressing-room, sir."
Mr. Grimm's teeth closed with a little snap.
"Did you happen to notice any time this evening a stout gentleman,
with red face, near the conservatory door?" he asked.
The servant pondered a moment, then shook his head.
"No, sir."

"Thank you."
Mr. Grimm was just turning away, when there came the sharp, vibrant
cra-a-sh! of a revolver, somewhere off to his left. The president! That
was his first thought. One glance across the room to where the chief
executive stood, in conversation with two other gentlemen, reassured
him. The choleric blue eyes of the president had opened a little at the
sound, then he calmly resumed the conversation. Mr. Grimm
impulsively started toward the little group, but already a cordon was
being drawn there--a cordon of quiet-faced, keen-eyed men,
unobstrusively forcing their way through the crowd. There was Johnson,
and Hastings, and Blair, and half a dozen others.
The room had been struck dumb. The dancers stopped, with tense,
inquiring looks, and the plaintive whine of the orchestra, far away,
faltered, then ceased. There was one brief instant of utter silence in
which white-faced women clung to the arms of their escorts, and the
brilliant galaxy of colors halted. Then, after a moment, there came
clearly through the stillness, the excited, guttural command of the
German ambassador.
"Keep on blaying, you tam fools! Keep on blaying!"
The orchestra started again tremulously. Mr. Grimm nodded a silent
approval of the ambassador's command, then turned away toward his
left, in the direction of the shot. After the first dismay, there was a
general movement of the crowd in that direction, a movement which
was checked by Mr. Campbell's appearance upon a chair, with a smile
on his bland face.
"No harm done," he called. "One of the officers present dropped his
revolver, and it was accidently discharged. No harm done."
There was a moment's excited chatter, deep-drawn breaths of relief, the
orchestra swung again into the interrupted rhythm, and the dancers
moved on. Mr. Grimm went straight to his chief, who had stepped
down from the chair. Two other Secret Service men stood behind him,
blocking the doorway that opened into a narrow hall.

"This way," directed the chief tersely.
Mr. Grimm walked along beside him. They skirted the end of the
ball-room until they came to another door opening into the hall. Chief
Campbell pushed it open, and entered. One of his men stood just inside.
"What was it, Gray?" asked the chief.
"Señor Alvarez, of the Mexican legation, was shot," was the reply.
"Dead?"
"Only wounded. He's in that room," and he indicated a door a little way
down the hall. "Fairchild, two servants, and a physician are with him."
"Who shot him?"
"Don't know. We found him lying in the hall here."
Still followed by Mr. Grimm, the chief entered the room, and together
they bent over the wounded man. The bullet had