Therefore, the door was open. She had left it open. Purposely? That was
beside the question at the moment.
And why--how--was she in Washington? Pondering that question, Mr.
Grimm's excellent teeth clicked sharply together and he rose. He knew
the answer. The compact was to be signed--the alliance which would array
the civilized world in arms. He had failed to block that, as he thought.
If Miss Thorne had returned, then Prince Benedetto d'Abruzzi, who held
absolute power to sign the compact for Italy, France and Spain, had also
returned.
Stealthily, feeling his way as he went, Mr. Grimm moved toward the door
leading to freedom, guided by the fresh draft of air. He reached the
door--it was standing open--and a moment later stepped out into the
star-lit night. It was open country here, with a thread of white road
just ahead, and farther along a fringe of shrubbery. Mr. Grimm reached
the road. Far down it, a pin point in the night, a light flickered
through interlacing branches. The tail lamp of an automobile, of course!
Mr. Grimm left the road and skirted a sparse hedge in the direction of
the light.
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