pistol shot would bring them in. Put down the gun!"

Eyes challenged eyes for one long tense instant, and the man carefully
laid the weapon on the table. Mr. Grimm strolled over and picked it up,
after which he glanced inquiringly at the other man--the ambassador's
second guard.

"And you are the gentleman, I dare say, who made the necessary trips to
the ambassador's house, probably using his latch-key?" he remarked
interrogatively. "First for the letters to be signed, and again for the
cigarettes?"

There was no answer and Mr. Grimm turned questioningly to Monsieur
Boissegur, silent, white of face, motionless.

"Yes, Monsieur," the ambassador burst out suddenly. His eyes were fixed
unwaveringly on Miss Thorne.

"And your escape, Monsieur?" continued Mr. Grimm.

"I did escape, Monsieur, last night," the ambassador explained, "but
they knew it immediately--they pursued me into my own house, these two
and another--and dragged me back here! _Mon Dieu, Monsieur, c'est--!_"

"That's all that's necessary," remarked Mr. Grimm. "You are free to go
now."

"But there are others," Monsieur Boissegur interposed desperately, "two
more somewhere below, and they will not allow--they will attack--!"

Mr. Grimm's listless eyes narrowed slightly and he turned to Miss
Thorne. She was a little white, but he saw enough in her face to satisfy
him.

"I shall escort Monsieur Boissegur to his carriage, Miss Thorne," he
said calmly. "These men will remain here until I return. Take the
revolver. If either of them so much as wags his head--_shoot_! You are
not--not afraid?"

"No." She smiled faintly. "I am not afraid."

Mr. Grimm and the ambassador went down the stairs, and out the front
door. Mr. Grimm was just turning to reenter the house when from above
came a muffled, venomous cra-as-ash!--a shot! He took the steps going
up, two at a time. Miss Thorne was leaning against the wall as if dazed;
the revolver lay at her feet. A door in a far corner of the room stood
open; and the clatter of footsteps echoed through the house.

"One of them leaped at me and I fired," she gasped in explanation. "He
struck me, but I'm--I'm not hurt."

She stooped quickly, picked up the revolver and made as if to follow the
dying footsteps. Mr. Grimm stopped her.

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "Let them go." And after a while,
earnestly: "If I had dreamed of such a--such a thing as this I should
never have consented to allow you--"

"I un