<h3> A CONFERENCE IN THE DARK </h3>
<p> </p>
<p>The white rays of a distant arc light
filtered through the half-drawn velvet
hangings and laid a faintly illumined
path across the ambassador's desk; the heavy
leather chairs were mere impalpable splotches
in the shadows; the cut-glass knobs of a mahogany
cabinet caught the glint of light and
reflected it dimly. Outside was the vague, indefinable
night drone of a city asleep, unbroken
by any sound that was distinguishable, until
finally there came the distant boom of a clock.
It struck twice.</p>
<p>Seated on a couch in one corner of the ambassador's
office was Mr. Grimm. He was leaning
against the high arm of leather, with his feet
on the seat, thoughtfully nursing his knees. If
his attitude indicated anything except sheer
comfort, it was that he was listening. He had
been there for two hours, wide-awake, and absolutely
motionless. Five, ten, fifteen minutes
more passed, and then Mr. Grimm heard the
grind and whir of an automobile a block or so
away, coming toward the embassy. Now it was
in front.</p>
<p>"Honk! Hon-on-onk!" it called plaintively.
"Hon-on-onk! Honk!"</p>
<p>The signal! At last! The automobile went
rushing on, full tilt, while Mr. Grimm removed
his feet from the seat and dropped them noiselessly
to the floor. Thus, with his hands on his
knees, and listening, listening with every faculty
strained, he sat motionless, peering toward the
open door that led into the hall. The car was
gone now, the sound of it was swallowed up in
the distance, still he sat there. It was obviously
some noise in the house for which he was waiting.</p>
<p>Minute after minute passed, and still nothing.
There was not even the whisper of a wind-stirred
drapery. He was about to rise when,
suddenly, with no other noise than that of the
sharp click of the switch, the electric lights in
the room blazed up brilliantly. The glare dazzled
Mr. Grimm with its blinding flood, but he
didn't move. Then softly, almost in a whisper:</p>
<p>"Good evening, Mr. Grimm."</p>
<p>It was a woman's voice, pleasant, unsurprised,
perfectly modulated. Mr. Grimm certainly did
not expect it now, but he knew it instantly—there
was not another quite like it in the wide,
wide world—and though he was still blinking
a little, he came to his feet courteously.</p>
<p>"Good morning, Miss Thorne," he corrected
gravely.</p>
<p>Now his vision was clearing, and he saw her,
a graceful figure, silhouetted against the rich
green of the wall draperies. Her lips were
curled the least bit, as if she might have been
smiling, and her wonderful eyes reflected a glint
of—of—was it amusement? The folds of her
evening dress fell away from her, and one bare,
white arm was extended, as her hand still rested
on the switch.</p>
<p>"And you didn't hear me?" still in the half
whisper. "I didn't think you would. Now I'm
going to put out the lights for an instant, while
you pull the shades down, and then—then we
must have a—a conference."</p>
<p>The switch snapped. The lights died as suddenly
as they had been born, and Mr. Grimm,
moving noiselessly, visited each of the four windows
in turn. Then the lights blazed brilliantly
again.</p>
<p>"Just for a moment," Miss Thorne explained
to him quietly, and she handed him a sheet of
paper. "I want you to read this—read it carefully—then
I shall turn out the lights again.
They are dangerous. After that we may discuss
the matter at our leisure."</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm read the paper while Miss
Thorne's eyes questioned his impassive face. At
length he looked up indolently, listlessly, and
the switch snapped. She crossed the room and
sat down; Mr. Grimm sat beside her.</p>
<p>"I think," Miss Thorne suggested tentatively,
"that that accounts perfectly for Monsieur
Boisségur's disappearance."</p>
<p>"It gives one explanation, at least," Mr.
Grimm assented musingly. "Kidnapped—held
prisoner—fifty thousand dollars demanded for
his safety and release." A pause. "And to
whom, may I ask, was this demand addressed?"</p>
<p>"To Madame Boisségur," replied Miss
Thorne. "I have the envelope in which it came.
It was mailed at the general post-office at half-past
one o'clock this afternoon, so the canceling
stamp shows, and the envelope was addressed, as
the letter was written, on a typewriter."</p>
<p>"And how," inquired Mr. Grimm, after a long
pause, "how did it come into your possession?"
He waited a little. "Why didn't Monsieur Rigolot
report this development to me this afternoon
when I was here?"</p>
<p>"Monsieur Rigolot did not inform you of it
because he didn't know of it himself," she replied,
answering the last question first. "It
came into my possession directly from the hands
of Madame Boisségur—she gave it to me."</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm was peering through the inscrutable
darkness, straight into her face—a white
daub in the gloom, shapeless, indistinct.</p>
<p>"I have known Madame Boisségur for half a
dozen years," Miss Thorne continued, in explanation.
"We have been friends that long.
I met her first in Tokio, later in Berlin, and
within a few weeks, here in Washington. You
see I have traveled in the time I have been an
agent for my government. Well, Madame Boisségur
received this letter about half-past four
o'clock this afternoon; and about half-past five
she sent for me and placed it in my hands, together
with all the singular details following
upon the ambassador's disappearance. So, it
would seem that you and I are allies for this
once, and the problem is already solved. There
merely remains the task of finding and releasing
the ambassador."</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm sat perfectly still.</p>
<p>"And why," he asked slowly, "are you here
now?"</p>
<p>"For the same reason that you are here," she
replied readily, "to see for myself if the—the
person who twice came here at night—once for
the ambassador's letters and once for his cigarettes—would,
by any chance, make another
trip. I knew you were here, of course."</p>
<p>"You knew I was here," repeated Mr. Grimm
musingly. "And, may I—?"</p>
<p>"Just as you knew that I, or some one, at
least, had entered this house a few minutes ago,"
she interrupted. "The automobile horn outside
was a signal, wasn't it? Hastings was in the
car? Or was it Blair or Johnson?"</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm did not say.</p>
<p>"Didn't you anticipate any personal danger
when you entered?" he queried instead.
"Weren't you afraid I might shoot?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>There was a long silence. Mr. Grimm still
sat with his elbows on his knees, staring, staring
at the vague white splotch which was Miss
Thorne's face and bare neck. One of her white
arms hung at her side like a pallid serpent, and
her hand was at rest on the seat of the couch.</p>
<p>"It seems, Miss Thorne," he said at length,
casually, quite casually, "that our paths of duty
are inextricably tangled. Twice previously we
have met under circumstances that were more
than strange, and now—this! Whatever injustice
I may have done you in the past by my suspicions
has, I hope, been forgiven; and in each
instance we were able to work side by side toward
a conclusion. I am wondering now if this
singular affair will take a similar course."</p>
<p>He paused. Miss Thorne started to speak,
but he silenced her with a slight gesture of his
hand.</p>
<p>"It is only fair to you to say that we—that
is, the Secret Service—have learned many things
about you," he resumed in the same casual tone.
"We have, through our foreign agents, traced
you step by step from Rome to Washington.
We know that you are, in a way, a representative
of a sovereign of Europe; we know that
you were on a secret mission to the Spanish
court, perhaps for this sovereign, and remained
in Madrid for a month; we know that from there
you went to Paris, also on a secret mission—perhaps
the same—and remained there for three
weeks; we know that you met diplomatic agents
of those governments later in London. We
know all this; we know the manner of your coming
to this country; of your coming to Washington.
But we don't know <i>why</i> you are here."</p>
<p>Again she started to speak, and again he
stopped her.</p>
<p>"We don't know your name, but that is of no
consequence. We <i>do</i> know that in Spain you
were Señora Cassavant, in Paris Mademoiselle
d'Aubinon, in London Miss Jane Kellog, and here
Miss Isabel Thorne. We realize that exigencies
arise in your calling, and mine, which make
changes of name desirable, necessary even, and
there is no criticism of that. Now as the representative
of your government—rather <i>a</i> government—you
have a right to be here, although unaccredited;
you have a right to remain here as
long as your acts are consistent with our laws;
you have a right to your secrets as long as they
do not, directly or indirectly, threaten the welfare
of this country. Now, why are you here?"</p>
<p>He received no answer; he expected none.
After a moment he went on:</p>
<p>"Admitting that you are a secret agent of
Italy, admitting everything that you claim to
be, you haven't convinced me that you are not
the person who came here for the letters and
cigarettes. You have said nothing to prove to
my satisfaction that you are not the individual
I was waiting for to-night."</p>
<p>"You don't mean that you suspect—?" she
began in a tone of amazement.</p>
<p>"I don't mean that I suspect anything," he
interposed. "I mean merely that you haven't
convinced me. There's nothing inconsistent in
the fact that you are what you say you are, and
that in spite of that, you came to-night for—"</p>
<p>He was interrupted by a laugh, a throaty,
silvery note that he remembered well. His idle
hands closed spasmodically, only to be instantly
relaxed.</p>
<p>"Suppose, Mr. Grimm, I should tell you that
immediately after Madame Boisségur placed the
matter in my hands this afternoon I went
straight to your office to show this letter to you
and to ask your assistance?" she inquired.
"Suppose that I left my card for you with a
clerk there on being informed that you were out—remember
I knew you were on the case from
Madame Boisségur—would that indicate anything
except that I wanted to put the matter
squarely before you, and work with you?"</p>
<p>"We will suppose that much," Mr. Grimm
agreed.</p>
<p>"That is a statement of fact," Miss Thorne
added. "My card, which you will find at your
office, will show that. And when I left your
office I went to the hotel where you live, with the
same purpose. You were not there, and I left
a card for you. And <i>that</i> is a statement of fact.
It was not difficult, owing to the extraordinary
circumstances, to imagine that you would be
here to-night—just as you are—and I came
here. My purpose, still, was to inform you of
what I knew, and work with you. Does that
convince you?"</p>
<p>"And how did you enter the embassy?" Mr.
Grimm persisted.</p>
<p>"Not with a latch-key, as you did," she replied.
"Madame Boisségur, at my suggestion,
left the French window in the hall there unfastened,
and I came in that way—the way, I
may add, that <i>Monsieur l'Ambassadeur</i> went out
when he disappeared."</p>
<p>"Very well!" commented Mr. Grimm, and
finally: "I think, perhaps, I owe you an apology,
Miss Thorne—another one. The circumstances
now, as they were at our previous meetings,
are so unusual that—is it necessary to go
on?" There was a certain growing deference
in his tone. "I wonder if you account for Monsieur
Boisségur's disappearance as I do?" he
inquired.</p>
<p>"I dare say," and Miss Thorne leaned toward
him with sudden eagerness in her manner and
voice. "Your theory is—?" she questioned.</p>
<p>"If we believe the servants we know that Monsieur
Boisségur did not go out either by the
front door or rear," Mr. Grimm explained.
"That being true the French window by which
you entered seems to have been the way."</p>
<p>"Yes, yes," Miss Thorne interpolated. "And
the circumstances attending the disappearance?
How do you account for the fact that he went,
evidently of his own will?"</p>
<p>"Precisely as you must account for it if you
have studied the situation here as I have," responded
Mr. Grimm. "For instance, sitting at
his desk there"—and he turned to indicate it—"he
could readily see out the windows overlooking
the street. There is only a narrow strip of
lawn between the house and the sidewalk. Now,
if some one on the sidewalk, or—or—"</p>
<p>"In a carriage?" promptly suggested Miss
Thorne.</p>
<p>"Or in a carriage," Mr. Grimm supplemented,
"had attracted his attention—some one he knew—it
is not at all unlikely that he rose, for no
apparent reason, as he did do, passed along the
hall—"</p>
<p>"And through the French window, across the
lawn to the carriage, and not a person in the
house would have seen him go out? Precisely!
There seems no doubt that was the way," she
mused. "And, of course, he must have entered
the carriage of his own free will?"</p>
<p>"In other words, on some pretext or other, he
was lured in, then made prisoner, and—!"</p>
<p>He paused suddenly and his hand met Miss
Thorne's warningly. The silence of the night
was broken by the violent clatter of footsteps,
apparently approaching the embassy. The
noise was unmistakable—some one was running.</p>
<p>"The window!" Miss Thorne whispered.</p>
<p>She rose quickly and started to cross the
room, to look out; Mr. Grimm sat motionless,
listening. An instant later and there came a
tremendous crash of glass—the French window
in the hallway by the sound—then rapid footsteps,
still running, along the hall. Mr. Grimm
moved toward the door unruffled, perfectly self-possessed;
there was only a narrowing of his
eyes at the abruptness and clatter of it all. And
then the electric lights in the hall flashed up.</p>
<p>Before Mr. Grimm stood a man, framed by
the doorway, staring unseeingly into the darkened
room. His face was haggard and white
as death; his mouth agape as if from exertion,
and the lips bloodless; his eyes were widely distended
as if from fright—clothing disarranged,
collar unfastened and dangling.</p>
<p>"The ambassador!" Miss Thorne whispered
thrillingly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<SPAN name="CH14"><!-- CHAPTER 14 --></SPAN>
<h3> XIV </h3>
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