Elusive Isabel Part 14

"Nothing, Monsieur--that is, nothing we can find."

Mr. Grimm was silent for a time and fell to twisting the seal ring on his finger. Mr. Campbell turned around and moved a paper weight one inch to the left, where it belonged, while Monsieur Rigolot, disappointed at their amazing apathy, squirmed uneasily in his chair.

"It would appear, then," Mr. Grimm remarked musingly, "that after his mysterious disappearance the amba.s.sador has either twice returned to his house at night, or else sent some one there, first to bring the letters to him for signature, and later to get his cigarettes?"

"_Certainement, Monsieur_--I mean, that seems to be true. But where is he? Why should he not come back? What does it mean? Madame Boissegur is frantic, prostrated! She wanted me to go to the police, but I did not think it wise that it should become public, so I came here."

"Very well," commented Mr. Grimm. "Let it rest as it is. Meanwhile you may rea.s.sure madame. Point out to her that if Monsieur Boissegur signed the letters Tuesday night he was, at least, alive; and if he came or sent for the cigarettes Wednesday night, he was still alive. I shall call at the emba.s.sy this afternoon. No, it isn't advisable to go with you now. Give me your latch-key, please."

Monsieur Rigolot produced the key and pa.s.sed it over without a word.

"And one other thing," Mr. Grimm continued, "please collect all the revolvers that may be in the house and take charge of them yourself. If any one, by chance, heard a burglar prowling around there to-night he might shoot, and in that event either kill Monsieur Boissegur or--or me!"

When the secretary had gone Mr. Campbell idly drummed on his desk as he studied the face of his subordinate.

"So much!" he commented finally.

"It's Miss Thorne again," said the young man as if answering a question.

"Perhaps these reports I have received to-day from the Latin capitals may aid you in dispelling that mystery," Campbell suggested, and Mr.

Grimm turned to them eagerly. "Meanwhile our royal visitor, Prince Benedetto d'Abruzzi, remains unknown?"

The young man's teeth closed with a snap.

"It's only a question of time, Chief," he said abruptly. "I'll find him--I'll find him!"

And he sat down to read the reports.

XIII

A CONFERENCE IN THE DARK

The white rays of a distant arc light filtered through the half-drawn velvet hangings and laid a faintly illumined path across the amba.s.sador's desk; the heavy leather chairs were mere impalpable splotches in the shadows; the cut-gla.s.s k.n.o.bs 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.

Seated on a couch in one corner of the amba.s.sador'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 att.i.tude 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 pa.s.sed, and then Mr. Grimm heard the grind and whir of an automobile a block or so away, coming toward the emba.s.sy. Now it was in front.

"Honk! Hon-on-onk!" it called plaintively. "Hon-on-onk! Honk!"

The signal! At last! The automobile went rus.h.i.+ng 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.

Minute after minute pa.s.sed, 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:

"Good evening, Mr. Grimm."

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.

"Good morning, Miss Thorne," he corrected gravely.

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 amus.e.m.e.nt? 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.

"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."

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.

"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."

Mr. Grimm read the paper while Miss Thorne's eyes questioned his impa.s.sive face. At length he looked up indolently, listlessly, and the switch snapped. She crossed the room and sat down; Mr. Grimm sat beside her.

"I think," Miss Thorne suggested tentatively, "that that accounts perfectly for Monsieur Boissegur's disappearance."

"It gives one explanation, at least," Mr. Grimm a.s.sented 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?"

"To Madame Boissegur," 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."

"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?"

"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 Boissegur--she gave it to me."

"Why?"

Mr. Grimm was peering through the inscrutable darkness, straight into her face--a white daub in the gloom, shapeless, indistinct.

"I have known Madame Boissegur 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 Was.h.i.+ngton. You see I have traveled in the time I have been an agent for my government. Well, Madame Boissegur 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 amba.s.sador'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 amba.s.sador."

Mr. Grimm sat perfectly still.

"And why," he asked slowly, "are you here now?"

"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 amba.s.sador's letters and once for his cigarettes--would, by any chance, make another trip. I knew you were here, of course."

"You knew I was here," repeated Mr. Grimm musingly. "And, may I--?"

"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?"

Mr. Grimm did not say.

"Didn't you antic.i.p.ate any personal danger when you entered?" he queried instead. "Weren't you afraid I might shoot?"