Campbell's face was disturbed by thin, spidery
lines of perplexity, and the guileless blue eyes were vacant as he
stared at the top of his desk. Mr. Grimm was talking.
"From the moment Miss Thorne turned the corner I lost all trace of her,"
he said. "Either she had an automobile in waiting, or else she was lucky
enough to find one immediately she came out. She did not return to the
embassy ball last night--that much is certain." He paused reflectively.
"She is a guest of Senorita Inez Rodriguez at the Venezuelan legation,"
he added.
"Yes, I know," his chief nodded.
"I didn't attempt to see her there last night for two reasons," Mr.
Grimm continued. "First, she can have no possible knowledge of the fact
that she is suspected, unless perhaps the man who slammed the door--"
He paused. "Anyway, she will not attempt to leave Washington; I am
confident of that. Again, it didn't seem wise to me to employ the
ordinary crude police methods in the case--that is, go to the Venezuelan
legation and kick up a row."
For a long time Campbell was silent; the perplexed lines still furrowed
his benevolent forehead.
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