_ CHAPTER XIV. A RESCUE AND AN ESCAPE
Miss Thorne's voice startled Mr. Grimm a little, but he had no doubts. It was Monsieur Boissegur. Mr. Grimm was going toward the enframed figure when, without any apparent reason, the ambassador turned and ran along the hall; and at that instant the lights went out again. For one moment Grimm stood still, dazed and blinded by the sudden blackness, and again he started toward the door. Miss Thorne was beside him.
"The lights!" he whispered tensely. "Find the switch!"
He heard the rustle of her skirts as she moved away, and stepped out into the hall, feeling with both his hands along the wall. A few feet away, in the direction the ambassador had gone, there seemed to be a violent struggle in progress--there was the scuffling of feet, and quick-drawn breaths as muscle strained against muscle. The lights! If he could only find the switch! Then, as his hands moved along the wall, they came in contact with another hand--a hand pressed firmly against the plastering, barring his progress. A light blow in the face caused him to step back quickly.
The scuffling sound suddenly resolved itself into moving footsteps, and the front door opened and closed with a bang. Mr. Grimm's listless eyes snapped, and his white teeth came together sharply as he started toward the front door. But fate seemed to be against him still. He stumbled over a chair, and his own impetus forward sent him sprawling; his head struck the wall with a resounding whack; and then, over the house, came utter silence. From outside he heard the clatter of a cab. Finally that died away in the distance.
"Miss Thorne?" he inquired quietly.
"I'm here," she answered in a despairing voice. "But I can't find the switch."
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
And then she found the switch; the lights flared up. Mr. Grimm was sitting thoughtfully on the floor.
"That simplifies the matter considerably," he observed complacently, as he rose. "The men who signaled to me when you entered the embassy will never let that cab get out of their sight."
Miss Thorne stood leaning forward a little, eagerly gazing at him with those wonderful blue-gray eyes, and an expression of--of--perhaps it was admiration on her face.
"Are you sure?" she demanded, at last.
"I know it," was his response.
And just then Monsieur Rigolot, secretary of the embassy, thrust an inquisitive head timidly around the corner of the stairs. The crash of glass had aroused him.
"What happened?" he asked breathlessly.
"We don't know just yet," replied Mr. Grimm. "If the noise aroused any one else please assure them that there's nothing the matter. And you might inform Madame Boissegur that the ambassador will return home to-morrow. Good night!"
At his hotel, when he reached there, Mr. Grimm found Miss Thorne's card--and he drew a long breath; at his office he found another of her cards, and he drew another long breath. He did like corroborative details, did Mr. Grimm, and, of course, this--! On the following day Miss Thorne accompanied him to Alexandria, and they were driven in a closed carriage out toward the western edge of the city. Finally the carriage stopped at a signal from Mr. Grimm, and he assisted Miss Thorne out, after which he turned and spoke to some one remaining inside--a man.
"The house is two blocks west, along that street there," he explained, and he indicated an intersecting thoroughfare just ahead. "It is number ninety-seven. Five minutes after we enter you will drive up in front of the door and wait. If we don't return in fifteen minutes--come in after us!"
"Do you anticipate danger?" Miss Thorne queried quickly.
"If I had anticipated danger," replied Mr. Grimm, "I should not have permitted you to come with me."
They entered the house--number ninety-seven--with a key which Mr. Grimm produced, and a minute or so later walked into a room where three men were sitting. One of them was of a coarse, repulsive type, large and heavy; another rather dapper, of superficial polish, evidently a foreigner, and the third--the third was Ambassador Boissegur!
"Good morning, gentlemen!" Mr. Grimm greeted them, then ceremoniously: "Monsieur Boissegur, your carriage is at the door."
The three men came to their feet instantly, and one of them--he of the heavy face--drew a revolver. Mr. Grimm faced him placidly.
"Do you know what would happen to you if you killed me?" he inquired pleasantly. "You wouldn't live three minutes. Do you imagine I came in here blindly? There are a dozen men guarding the entrances to the house--a pistol shot would bring them in. Put down the gun!"
Eyes challenged eyes for one long tense instant, and the man carefully laid the weapon on the table. Mr. Grimm strolled over and picked it up, after which he glanced inquiringly at the other man--the ambassador's second guard.
"And you are the gentleman, I dare say, who made the necessary trips to the ambassador's house, probably using his latch-key?" he remarked interrogatively. "First for the letters to be signed, and again for the cigarettes?"
There was no answer and Mr. Grimm turned questioningly to Monsieur Boissegur, silent, white of face, motionless.
"Yes, Monsieur," the ambassador burst out suddenly. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Miss Thorne.
"And your escape, Monsieur?" continued Mr. Grimm.
"I did escape, Monsieur, last night," the ambassador explained, "but they knew it immediately--they pursued me into my own house, these two and another--and dragged me back here!
Mon Dieu, Monsieur, c'est--!"
"That's all that's necessary," remarked Mr. Grimm. "You are free to go now."
"But there are others," Monsieur Boissegur interposed desperately, "two more somewhere below, and they will not allow--they will attack--!"
Mr. Grimm's listless eyes narrowed slightly and he turned to Miss Thorne. She was a little white, but he saw enough in her face to satisfy him.
"I shall escort Monsieur Boissegur to his carriage, Miss Thorne," he said calmly. "These men will remain here until I return. Take the revolver. If either of them so much as wags his head--
shoot! You are not--not afraid?"
"No." She smiled faintly. "I am not afraid."
Mr. Grimm and the ambassador went down the stairs, and out the front door. Mr. Grimm was just turning to reenter the house when from above came a muffled, venomous cra-as-ash!--a shot! He took the steps going up, two at a time. Miss Thorne was leaning against the wall as if dazed; the revolver lay at her feet. A door in a far corner of the room stood open; and the clatter of footsteps echoed through the house.
"One of them leaped at me and I fired," she gasped in explanation. "He struck me, but I'm--I'm not hurt."
She stooped quickly, picked up the revolver and made as if to follow the dying footsteps. Mr. Grimm stopped her.
"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "Let them go." And after a while, earnestly: "If I had dreamed of such a--such a thing as this I should never have consented to allow you--"
"I understand," she interrupted, and for one instant her outstretched hand rested on his arm. "The ambassador?"
"Perfectly safe," responded Mr. Grimm. "Two of my men are with him." _