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.
"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."
"Where is the revolver?" Mr. Grimm insisted.
"If you were any one else _but_ you! I could not afford to be frank with
you and--"
"If you had been any one else but _you_ I should have placed you under
arrest when I entered the room."
She smiled, and inclined her head.
"I understand," she said pleasantly. "For the reason that you are Mr.
Grimm of the Secret Service I shall tell you the truth. I _did_ 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.
After a while Mr. Grimm nodded.
"The revolver is beyond your reach and shall remain so," she resumed.
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