<h3> THE FLEEING WOMAN </h3>
<p> </p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"An ice—here," Mr. Grimm directed tersely.</p>
<p>The servant bowed and disappeared, and Mr.
Grimm hastily scribbled something on a sheet
of paper and handed it to his chief.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>Mr. Campbell read this:</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>The chief read it off glibly:</p>
<p>"Stout man, red face, near conservatory door.
Bring over when G goes."</p>
<p>"Very well!" commented Mr. Grimm ambiguously.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm's teeth closed with a little snap.</p>
<p>"Did you happen to notice any time this evening
a stout gentleman, with red face, near the
conservatory door?" he asked.</p>
<p>The servant pondered a moment, then shook
his head.</p>
<p>"No, sir."</p>
<p>"Thank you."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"Keep on blaying, you tam fools! Keep on
blaying!"</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"No harm done," he called. "One of the officers
present dropped his revolver, and it was
accidently discharged. No harm done."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"This way," directed the chief tersely.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"What was it, Gray?" asked the chief.</p>
<p>"Señor Alvarez, of the Mexican legation, was
shot," was the reply.</p>
<p>"Dead?"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Who shot him?"</p>
<p>"Don't know. We found him lying in the
hall here."</p>
<p>Still followed by Mr. Grimm, the chief entered
the room, and together they bent over the
wounded man. The bullet had entered the torso
just below the ribs on the left side.</p>
<p>"It's a clean wound," the physician was explaining.
"The bullet passed through. There's
no immediate danger."</p>
<p>Señor Alvarez opened his eyes, and stared
about him in bewilderment; then alarm overspread
his face, and he made spasmodic efforts
to reach the inside breast pocket of his coat.
Mr. Grimm obligingly thrust his hand into the
pocket and drew out its contents, the while
Señor Alvarez struggled frantically.</p>
<p>"Just a moment," Mr. Grimm advised quietly.
"I'm only going to let you see if it is here.
Is it?"</p>
<p>He held the papers, one by one, in front of
the wounded man, and each time a shake of the
head was his answer. At the last Señor Alvarez
closed his eyes again.</p>
<p>"What sort of paper was it?" inquired Mr.
Grimm.</p>
<p>"None of your business," came the curt answer.</p>
<p>"Who shot you?"</p>
<p>"None of your business."</p>
<p>"A man?"</p>
<p>Señor Alvarez was silent.</p>
<p>"A woman?"</p>
<p>Still silence.</p>
<p>With some new idea Mr. Grimm turned away
suddenly and started out into the hall. He met
a maid-servant at the door, coming in. Her
face was blanched, and she stuttered through
sheer excitement.</p>
<p>"A lady, sir—a lady—" she began babblingly.</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm calmly closed the door, shutting
in the wounded man, Chief Campbell and the
others. Then he caught the maid sharply by
the arm and shook some coherence into her disordered
brain.</p>
<p>"A lady—she ran away, sir," the girl went
on, in blank surprise.</p>
<p>"What lady?" demanded Mr. Grimm coldly.
"Where did she run from? Why did she run?"
The maid stared at him with mouth agape. "Begin
at the beginning."</p>
<p>"I was in that room, farther down the hall,
sir," the maid explained. "The door was open.
I heard the shot, and it frightened me so—I
don't know—I was afraid to look out right
away, sir. Then, an instant later, a lady come
running along the hall, sir—that way," and
she indicated the rear of the house. "Then I
came to the door and looked out to see who it
was, and what was the matter, sir. I was standing
there when a man—a man came along after
the lady, and banged the door in my face, sir.
The door had a spring lock, and I was so—so
frightened and excited I couldn't open it right
away, sir, and—and when I did I came here to
see what was the matter." She drew a deep
breath and stopped.</p>
<p>"That all?" demanded Mr. Grimm.</p>
<p>"Yes, sir, except—except the lady had a pistol
in her hand, sir—"</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm regarded her in silence for a
moment.</p>
<p>"Who was the lady?" he asked at last.</p>
<p>"I forget her name, sir. She was the lady
who—who fainted in the ball-room, sir, just a
few minutes ago."</p>
<p>Whatever emotion may have been aroused
within Mr. Grimm it certainly found no expression
in his face. When he spoke again his
voice was quite calm.</p>
<p>"Miss Thorne, perhaps?"</p>
<p>"Yes, sir, that's the name—Miss Thorne. I
was in the ladies' dressing-room when she was
brought in, sir, and I remember some one called
her name."</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm took the girl, still a-quiver with
excitement, and led her along the hall to where
Gray stood.</p>
<p>"Take this girl in charge, Gray," he directed.
"Lock her up, if necessary. Don't permit her
to say one word to anybody—<i>anybody</i> you understand,
except the chief."</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm left them there. He passed along
the hall, glancing in each room as he went,
until he came to a short flight of stairs leading
toward the kitchen. He went on down
silently. The lights were burning, but the place
was still, deserted. All the servants who belonged
there were evidently, for the moment,
transferred to other posts. He passed on
through the kitchen and out the back door into
the street.</p>
<p>A little distance away, leaning against a
lamp-post, a man was standing. He might
have been waiting for a car. Mr. Grimm approached
him.</p>
<p>"Beg pardon," he said, "did you see a woman
come out of the back door, there?"</p>
<p>"Yes, just a moment or so ago," replied the
stranger. "She got into an automobile at the
corner. I imagine this is hers," and he extended
a handkerchief, a dainty, perfumed trifle
of lace. "I picked it up immediately after she
passed."</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm took the handkerchief and examined
it under the light. For a time he was
thoughtful, with lowered eyes, which, finally
raised, met those of the stranger with a scrutinizing
stare.</p>
<p>"Why," asked Mr. Grimm slowly and distinctly,
"why did you slam the door in the girl's
face?"</p>
<p>"Why did I—what?" came the answering
question.</p>
<p>"Why did you slam the door in the girl's
face?" Mr. Grimm repeated slowly.</p>
<p>The stranger stared in utter amazement—an
amazement so frank, so unacted, so genuine,
that Mr. Grimm was satisfied.</p>
<p>"Did you see a man come out the door?" Mr.
Grimm pursued.</p>
<p>"No. Say, young fellow, I guess you've had
a little too much to drink, haven't you?"</p>
<p>But by that time Mr. Grimm was turning the
corner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<SPAN name="CH5"><!-- CHAPTER 5 --></SPAN>
<h3> V </h3>
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