<h3> REVELATIONS </h3>
<p> </p>
<p>Some vague, indefinable shadow darkened
Miss Thorne's clear, blue-gray eyes, in
sharp contrast to the glow of radiant
health in her cheeks, as she stepped from an automobile
in front of the Venezuelan legation,
and ran lightly up the steps. A liveried servant
opened the door.</p>
<p>"A gentleman is waiting for you, Madam,"
he announced. "His card is here on the—"</p>
<p>"I was expecting him," she interrupted.</p>
<p>"Which room, please?"</p>
<p>"The blue room, Madam."</p>
<p>Miss Thorne passed along the hallway which
led to a suite of small drawing-rooms opening
on a garden in the rear, pushed aside the portières,
and entered.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry I've kept you—" she began, and
then, in a tone of surprise: "I beg your pardon."</p>
<p>A gentleman rose and bowed gravely.</p>
<p>"I am Mr. Grimm of the Secret Service," he
informed her with frank courtesy. "I am afraid
you were expecting some one else; I handed my
card to the footman."</p>
<p>For an instant the blue-gray eyes opened
wide in astonishment, and then some quick,
subtle change swept over Miss Thorne's face.
She smiled graciously and motioned him to a
seat.</p>
<p>"This is quite a different meeting from the
one Señorita Rodriguez had planned, isn't it?"
she asked.</p>
<p>There was a taunting curve on her scarlet
lips; the shadow passed from her eyes; her slim,
white hands lay idle in her lap. Mr. Grimm regarded
her reflectively. There was a determination
of steel back of this charming exterior;
there was an indomitable will, a keen brain, and
all of a woman's intuition to reckon with. She
was silent, with a questioning upward slant of
her arched brows.</p>
<p>"I am not mistaken in assuming that you are
a secret agent of the Italian government, am I?"
he queried finally.</p>
<p>"No," she responded readily.</p>
<p>"In that event I may speak with perfect
frankness?" he went on. "It would be as useless
as it would be absurd to approach the matter in
any other manner?" It was a question.</p>
<p>Miss Thorne was still smiling, but again the
vague, indefinable shadow, momentarily lifted,
darkened her eyes.</p>
<p>"You may be frank, of course," she said
pleasantly. "Please go on."</p>
<p>"Señor Alvarez was shot at the German Embassy
Ball last night," Mr. Grimm told her.</p>
<p>Miss Thorne nodded, as if in wonder.</p>
<p>"Did you, or did you not, shoot him?"</p>
<p>It was quite casual. She received the question
without change of countenance, but involuntarily
she caught her breath. It might have been
a sigh of relief.</p>
<p>"Why do you come to me with such a query?"
she asked in turn.</p>
<p>"I beg your pardon," interposed Mr. Grimm
steadily. "Did you, or did you not, shoot him?"</p>
<p>"No, of course I didn't shoot him," was the
reply. If there was any emotion in the tone it
was merely impatience. "Why do you come to
me?" she repeated.</p>
<p>"Why do I come to you?" Mr. Grimm echoed
the question, while his listless eyes rested on
her face. "I will be absolutely frank, as I feel
sure you would be under the same circumstances."
He paused a moment; she nodded.
"Well, immediately after the shooting you ran
along the hallway with a revolver in your hand;
you ran down the steps into the kitchen, and out
through the back door, where you entered an automobile.
That is not conjecture; it is susceptible
of proof by eye witnesses."</p>
<p>Miss Thorne rose suddenly with a queer, helpless
little gesture of her arms, and walked to the
window. She stood there for a long time with
her hands clasped behind her back.</p>
<p>"That brings us to another question," Mr.
Grimm continued mercilessly. "If you did not
shoot Señor Alvarez, do you know who did?"</p>
<p>There was another long pause.</p>
<p>"I want to believe you, Miss Thorne," he supplemented.</p>
<p>She turned quickly with something of defiance
in her attitude.</p>
<p>"Yes, I know," she said slowly. "It were useless
to deny it."</p>
<p>"Who was it?"</p>
<p>"I won't tell you."</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm leaned forward in his chair, and
spoke earnestly.</p>
<p>"Understand, please, that by that answer you
assume equal guilt with the person who actually
did the shooting," he explained. "If you adhere
to it you compel me to regard you as an accomplice."
His questioning took a different line.</p>
<p>"Will you explain how the revolver came into
your possession?"</p>
<p>"Oh, I—I picked it up in the hallway there,"
she replied vaguely.</p>
<p>"I want to believe you, Miss Thorne," Mr.
Grimm said again.</p>
<p>"You may. I picked it up in the hallway,"
she repeated. "I saw it lying there and picked
it up."</p>
<p>"Why that, instead of giving an alarm?"</p>
<p>"No alarm was necessary. The shot itself
was an alarm."</p>
<p>"Then why," Mr. Grimm persisted coldly,
"did you run along the hallway and escape by
way of the kitchen? If you did not do the
shooting, why the necessity of escape, carrying
the revolver?"</p>
<p>There was that in the blue-gray eyes which
brought Mr. Grimm to his feet. His hands
gripped each other cruelly; his tone was calm as
always.</p>
<p>"Why did you take the revolver?" he asked.</p>
<p>Miss Thorne's head drooped forward a little,
and she was silent.</p>
<p>"There are only two possibilities, of course,"
he went on. "First, that you, in spite of your
denial, did the shooting."</p>
<p>"I did not!" The words fairly burst from
her tightly closed lips.</p>
<p>"Or that you knew the revolver, and took it
to save the person, man or woman, who fired the
shot. I will assume, for the moment, that this
is correct. Where is the revolver?"</p>
<p>From the adjoining room there came a slight
noise, a faint breath of sound; or it might have
been only an echo of silence. Their eyes were
fixed each upon the others unwaveringly, with
not a flicker to indicate that either had heard.
After a moment Miss Thorne returned to her
chair and sat down.</p>
<p>"It's rather a singular situation, isn't it, Mr.
Grimm?" she inquired irrelevantly. "You, Mr.
Grimm of the Secret Service of the United
States; I, Isabel Thorne, a secret agent of Italy
together here, one accusing the other of a crime,
and perhaps with good reason."</p>
<p>"Where is the revolver?" Mr. Grimm insisted.</p>
<p>"If you were any one else <i>but</i> you! I could
not afford to be frank with you and—"</p>
<p>"If you had been any one else but <i>you</i> I
should have placed you under arrest when I entered
the room."</p>
<p>She smiled, and inclined her head.</p>
<p>"I understand," she said pleasantly. "For
the reason that you are Mr. Grimm of the Secret
Service I shall tell you the truth. I <i>did</i> take
the revolver because I knew who had fired the
shot. Believe me when I tell you that that person
did not act with my knowledge or consent.
You do believe that? You do?" She was pleading,
eager to convince him.</p>
<p>After a while Mr. Grimm nodded.</p>
<p>"The revolver is beyond your reach and shall
remain so," she resumed. "According to your
laws I suppose I am an accomplice. That is my
misfortune. It will in no way alter my determination
to keep silent. If I am arrested I can't
help it." She studied his face with hopeful eyes.
"Am I to be arrested?"</p>
<p>"Where is the paper that was taken from
Señor Alvarez immediately after he was shot?"
Mr. Grimm queried.</p>
<p>"I don't know," she replied frankly.</p>
<p>"As I understand it, then, the motive for the
shooting was to obtain possession of that paper?
For your government?"</p>
<p>"The individual who shot Señor Alvarez <i>did</i>
obtain the paper, yes. And now, please, am I
to be arrested?"</p>
<p>"And just what was the purpose, may I inquire,
of the message you telegraphed with your
fan in the ball-room?"</p>
<p>"You read that?" exclaimed Miss Thorne in
mock astonishment. "You read that?"</p>
<p>"And the man who read that message? Perhaps
he shot the señor?"</p>
<p>"Perhaps," she taunted.</p>
<p>For a long time Mr. Grimm stood staring at
her, staring, staring. She, too, rose, and faced
him quietly.</p>
<p>"Am I to be arrested?" she asked again.</p>
<p>"Why do you make me do it?" he demanded.</p>
<p>"That is my affair."</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm laid a hand upon her arm, a hand
that had never known nervousness. A moment
longer he stared, and then:</p>
<p>"Madam, you are my prisoner for the attempted
murder of Señor Alvarez!"</p>
<p>The rings on the portières behind him clicked
sharply, and the draperies parted. Mr. Grimm
stood motionless, with his hand on Miss Thorne's
arm.</p>
<p>"You were inquiring a moment ago for a revolver,"
came in a man's voice. "Here it is!"</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm found himself inspecting the
weapon from the barrel end. After a moment
his glance shifted to the blazing eyes of the man
who held it—a young man, rather slight, with
clean-cut, aristocratic features, and of the pronounced
Italian type.</p>
<SPAN name="image-2"><!-- Image 2 --></SPAN>
<p class="figure">
<SPAN href="img2.jpg">
<ANTIMG width-obs="60%" src="images/img2.jpg" alt="He Found Himself inspecting the Weapon from the Barrel End."/></SPAN><br/>
<b>"He Found Himself inspecting the Weapon from the Barrel End."</b></p>
<p>"My God!" The words came from Miss
Thorne's lips almost in a scream. "Don't—!"</p>
<p>"I did make some inquiries about a revolver,
yes," Mr. Grimm interrupted quietly. "Is this
the one?"</p>
<p>He raised his hand quite casually, and his
fingers closed like steel around the weapon. Behind
his back Miss Thorne made some quick emphatic
gesture, and the new-comer released the
revolver.</p>
<p>"I shall ask you, please, to free Miss Thorne,"
he requested courteously. "I shot Señor Alvarez.
I, too, am a secret agent of the Italian government,
willing and able to defend myself. Miss
Thorne has told you the truth; she had nothing
whatever to do with it. She took the weapon
and escaped because it was mine. Here is the
paper that was taken from Señor Alvarez," and
he offered a sealed envelope. "I have read it;
it is not what I expected. You may return it to
Señor Alvarez with my compliments."</p>
<p>After a moment Mr. Grimm's hand fell away
from Miss Thorne's arm, and he regarded the
new-comer with an interest in which admiration,
even, played a part.</p>
<p>"Your name?" he asked finally.</p>
<p>"Pietro Petrozinni," was the ready reply.
"As I say, I accept all responsibility."</p>
<p>A few minutes later Mr. Grimm and his prisoner
passed out of the legation side by side, and
strolled down the street together, in amicable
conversation. Half an hour later Señor Alvarez
identified Pietro Petrozinni as the man who shot
him; and the maid servant expressed a belief
that he was the man who slammed the door in her
face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<SPAN name="CH7"><!-- CHAPTER 7 --></SPAN>
<h3> VII </h3>
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