Elusive Isabel Part 12

"I believe," he said slowly, without preliminaries, "this is your handkerchief?"

He offered the lacy trifle, odd in design, unique in workmanship, obviously of foreign texture, and she accepted it.

"Yes," she agreed readily, "I must have dropped it again."

"That is the one handed to you by Senor Rodriguez," Mr. Grimm told her.

"I think you said you lost it in his office yesterday afternoon?"

"Yes?" She nodded inquiringly.

"It may interest you to know that Senor Rodriguez's butler positively identifies it as one he restored to you twice at dinner last evening, between seven and nine o'clock," Mr. Grimm went on dispa.s.sionately.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Miss Thorne.

"The senor identifies it as one he found this morning in his office,"

Mr. Grimm explained obligingly. "During the night fifty thousand dollars in gold were stolen from his safe."

There was not the slightest change of expression in her face; the blue-gray eyes were still inquiring in their gaze, the white hands still at rest, the scarlet lips still curled slightly, an echo of a smile.

"No force was used in opening the safe," Mr. Grimm resumed. "It was unlocked. It's an old model and I have demonstrated how it could have been opened either with the a.s.sistance of a stethoscope, which catches the sound of the tumbler in the lock, or by a person of acute hearing."

Miss Thorne sat motionless, waiting.

"All this means--what?" she inquired, at length.

"I'll trouble you, please, to return the money," requested Mr. Grimm courteously. "No reason appears why you should have taken it. But I'm not seeking reasons, nor am I seeking disagreeable publicity--only the money."

"It seems to me you attach undue importance to the handkerchief," she objected.

"That's a matter of opinion," Mr. Grimm remarked. "It would be useless, even tedious, to attempt to disprove a burglar theory, but against it is the difficulty of entrance, the weight of the gold, the ingenious method of opening the safe, and the a.s.sumption that not more than six persons knew the money was in the safe; while a person in the house _might_ have learned it in any of a dozen ways. And, in addition, is the fact that the handkerchief is odd, therefore noticeable. A lace expert a.s.sures me there's probably not another like it in the world."

He stopped. Miss Thorne's eyes sparkled and a smile seemed to be tugging at the corners of her mouth. She spread out the handkerchief on her knees.

"You could identify this again, of course?" she queried.

"Yes."

She thoughtfully crumpled up the bit of lace in both hands, then opened them. There were two handkerchiefs now--they were identical.

"Which is it, please?" she asked.

If Mr. Grimm was disappointed there was not a trace of it on his face.

She laughed outright, gleefully, mockingly, then, demurely:

"Pardon me! You see, it's absurd. The handkerchief the butler restored to me at dinner, after I lost one in the senor's office, might have been either of these, or one of ten other duplicates in my room, all given to me by her Maj--I mean," she corrected quickly, "by a friend in Europe."

She was silent for a moment. "Is that all?"

"No," replied Mr. Grimm gravely, decisively. "I'm not satisfied. I shall insist upon the return of the money, and if it is not forthcoming I dare say Count di Rosini, the Italian amba.s.sador, would be pleased to give his personal check rather than have the matter become public." She started to interrupt; he went on. "In any event you will be requested to leave the country."

Then, and not until then, a decided change came over Miss Thorne's face.

A deeper color leaped to her cheeks, the smile faded from her lips, and there was a flash of uneasiness in her eyes.

"But if I am innocent?" she protested.

"You must prove it," continued Mr. Grimm mercilessly. "Personally, I am convinced, and Count di Rosini has practically a.s.sured me that--"

"It's unjust!" she interrupted pa.s.sionately. "It's--it's--you have proved nothing. It's unheard of! It's beyond--!"

Suddenly she became silent. A minute, two minutes, three minutes pa.s.sed; Mr. Grimm waited patiently.

"Will you give me time and opportunity to prove my innocence?" she demanded finally. "And if I _do_ convince you--?"

"I should be delighted to believe that I have made a mistake," Mr. Grimm a.s.sured her. "How much time? One day? Two days?"

"I will let you know within an hour at your office," she told him.

Mr. Grimm rose.

"And meanwhile, in case of accident, I shall look to Count di Rosini for adjustment," he added pointedly. "Good morning."

One hour and ten minutes later he received this note, unsigned:

"Closed carriage will stop for you at southeast corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Fourteenth Street to-night at one."

He was there; the carriage was on time; and my lady of mystery was inside. He stepped in and they swung out into Pennsylvania Avenue, noiselessly over the asphalt.

"Should the gold be placed in your hands now, within the hour," she queried solicitously, "would it be necessary for you to know who was the--the thief?"

"It would," Mr. Grimm responded without hesitation.

"Even if it destroyed a reputation?" she pleaded.

"The Secret Service rarely destroys a reputation, Miss Thorne, although it holds itself in readiness to do so. I dare say in this case there would be no arrest or prosecution, because of--of reasons which appear to be good."

"There wouldn't?" and there was a note of eagerness in her voice. "The ident.i.ty of the guilty person would never appear?"

"It would become a matter of record in our office, but beyond that I think not--at least in this one instance."

Miss Thorne sat silent for a block or more.

"You'll admit, Mr. Grimm, that you have forced me into a most remarkable position. You seemed convinced of my guilt, and, if you'll pardon me, without reason; then you made it compulsory upon me to establish my innocence. The only way for me to do that was to find the guilty one. I have done it, and I'm sorry, because it's a little tragedy."

Mr. Grimm waited.

"It's a girl high in diplomatic society. Her father's position is an honorable rather than a lucrative one; he has no fortune. This girl moves in a certain set devoted to bridge, and stakes are high. She played and won, and played and won, and on and on, until her winnings were about eight thousand dollars. Then luck turned. She began to lose.

Her money went, but she continued to play desperately. Finally some old family jewels were p.a.w.ned without her father's knowledge, and ultimately they were lost. One day she awoke to the fact that she owed some nine or ten thousand dollars in bridge debts. They were pressing and there was no way to meet them. This meant exposure and utter ruin, and women do strange things, Mr. Grimm, to postpone such an ending to social aspirations. I know this much is true, for she related it all to me herself.

"At last, in some way--a misplaced letter, perhaps, or a word overheard--she learned that fifty thousand dollars would be in the legation safe overnight, and evidently she learned the precise night."

She paused a moment. "Here is the address of a man in Baltimore, Thomas Q. Griswold," and she pa.s.sed a card to Mr. Grimm, who sat motionless, listening. "About four years ago the combination on the legation safe was changed. This man was sent here to make the change, therefore some one besides Senor Rodriguez _does_ know the combination. I have communicated with this man to-day, for I saw the possibility of just such a thing as this instead of your stethoscope. By a trick and a forged letter this girl obtained the combination from this man."