Elusive Isabel | Page 9

so frank, so
unacted, so genuine, that Mr. Grimm was satisfied.
"Did you see a man come out the door?" Mr. Grimm pursued.
"No. Say, young fellow, I guess you've had a little too much to drink,
haven't you?"
But by that time Mr. Grimm was turning the corner.

V
A VISIT TO THE COUNT

The bland serenity of Mr. Campbell's face was disturbed by thin,
spidery lines of perplexity, and the guileless blue eyes were vacant as
he stared at the top of his desk. Mr. Grimm was talking.
"From the moment Miss Thorne turned the corner I lost all trace of
her," he said. "Either she had an automobile in waiting, or else she was
lucky enough to find one immediately she came out. She did not return
to the embassy ball last night--that much is certain." He paused
reflectively. "She is a guest of Señorita Inez Rodriguez at the
Venezuelan legation," he added.
"Yes, I know," his chief nodded.
"I didn't attempt to see her there last night for two reasons," Mr. Grimm
continued. "First, she can have no possible knowledge of the fact that
she is suspected, unless perhaps the man who slammed the door--" He
paused. "Anyway, she will not attempt to leave Washington; I am
confident of that. Again, it didn't seem wise to me to employ the
ordinary crude police methods in the case--that is, go to the Venezuelan
legation and kick up a row."
For a long time Campbell was silent; the perplexed lines still furrowed
his benevolent forehead.
"The president is very anxious that we get to facts in this reported Latin
alliance as soon as possible," he said at last, irrelevantly. "He
mentioned the matter last night, and he has been keeping in constant
communication with Gault, in Lisbon, who, however, has not been able
to add materially to the original despatch. Under all the circumstances
don't you think it would be best for me to relieve you of the
investigation of this shooting affair so that you can concentrate on this
greater and more important thing?"
"Will Señor Alvarez die?" asked Mr. Grimm in turn.
"His condition is serious, although the wound is not necessarily fatal,"
was the reply.

Mr. Grimm arose, stretched his long legs and stood for a little while
gazing out the window. Finally he turned to his chief:
"What do we know, here in the bureau, about Miss Thorne?"
"Thus far the reports on her are of the usual perfunctory nature," Mr.
Campbell explained. He drew a card from a pigeonhole of his desk and
glanced at it. "She arrived in Washington two weeks and two days ago
from New York, off the Lusitania, from Liverpool. She brought some
sort of an introduction to Count di Rosini, the Italian ambassador, and
he obtained for her a special invitation to the state ball, which was held
that night. Until four days ago she was a guest at the Italian embassy,
but now, as you know, is a guest at the Venezuelan legation. Since her
arrival here she has been prominently pushed forward into society; she
has gone everywhere, and been received everywhere in the diplomatic
set. We have no knowledge of her beyond this."
There was a question in Mr. Grimm's listless eyes as they met those of
his chief. The same line of thought was running in both their minds,
born, perhaps, of the association of ideas--Italy as one of three great
nations known to be in the Latin compact; Prince Benedetto d'Abruzzi,
of Italy, the secret envoy of three countries; the sudden appearance of
Miss Thorne at the Italian embassy. And in the mind of the younger
man there was more than this--a definite knowledge of a message
cunningly transmitted to Mr. Rankin, of the German embassy, by Miss
Thorne there in the ball-room.
"Can you imagine--" he asked slowly, "can you imagine a person who
would be of more value to the Latin governments in Washington right
at this stage of the negotiations than a brilliant woman agent?"
"I most certainly can not," was the chief's unhesitating response.
"In that case I _don't_ think it would be wise to transfer the
investigation of the shooting affair to another man," said Mr. Grimm
emphatically, reverting to his chief's question. "I think, on the contrary,
we should find out more about Miss Thorne."

"Precisely," Campbell agreed.
"Ask all the great capitals about her--Madrid, Paris and Rome,
particularly; then, perhaps, London and Berlin and St. Petersburg."
Mr. Campbell thoughtfully scribbled the names of the cities on a slip of
paper.
"Do you intend to arrest Miss Thorne for the shooting?" he queried.
"I don't know," replied Mr. Grimm frankly. "I don't know," he repeated
musingly. "If I do arrest her immediately I may cut off a clue which