[Illustration: In a stride Mr. Grimm was beside her.]
He turned toward Isabel. She lay near the chair, a little crumpled heap.
In a stride he was beside her, and had lifted her head to his knee. The
blue-gray eyes opened into his once, then they closed. She had fainted.
The first bullet had pierced her arm; it was only a flesh wound. He
lifted her gently and placed her on a couch, after which he disappeared
into another room. In a little while there came the cheerful ting-a-ling
of a telephone bell.
"Is this the county constable's office?" he inquired. "Well, there's
been a little shooting accident at the Murdock Williams' place, five
miles out from Alexandria on the old Baltimore Road. Please send some of
your men over to take charge. Two hours from now call up Mr. Grimm at
Secret Service headquarters in Washington and he will explain. Good-by."
And a few minutes later Mr. Grimm walked along the road toward an
automobile a hundred yards away, bearing Miss Thorne in his arms. The
chauffeur cranked the machine and climbed to his seat.
"Washington!" directed Mr. Grimm. "Never mind the speed laws.
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