Grimm laid a hand upon her arm, a hand that had never known
nervousness. A moment longer he stared, and then:
"Madam, you are my prisoner for the attempted murder of Senor Alvarez!"
The rings on the portieres behind him clicked sharply, and the draperies
parted. Mr. Grimm stood motionless, with his hand on Miss Thorne's arm.
"You were inquiring a moment ago for a revolver," came in a man's voice.
"Here it is!"
Mr. Grimm found himself inspecting the weapon from the barrel end. After
a moment his glance shifted to the blazing eyes of the man who held
it--a young man, rather slight, with clean-cut, aristocratic features,
and of the pronounced Italian type.
[Illustration: He found himself inspecting the weapon from the barrel
end.]
"My God!" The words came from Miss Thorne's lips almost in a scream.
"Don't--!"
"I did make some inquiries about a revolver, yes," Mr. Grimm interrupted
quietly. "Is this the one?"
He raised his hand quite casually, and his fingers closed like steel
around the weapon. Behind his back Miss Thorne made some quick emphatic
gesture, and the new-comer released the revolver.
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