“I didn’t attempt to see her there last night for two reasons,” Mr. Grimm continued.  “First, she can have no possible knowledge of the fact that she is suspected, unless perhaps the man who slammed the door—­” He paused.  “Anyway, she will not attempt to leave Washington; I am confident of that.  Again, it didn’t seem wise to me to employ the ordinary crude police methods in the case—­that is, go to the Venezuelan legation and kick up a row.”

For a long time Campbell was silent; the perplexed lines still furrowed his benevolent forehead.

“The president is very anxious that we get to facts in this reported Latin alliance as soon as possible,” he said at last, irrelevantly.  “He mentioned the matter last night, and he has been keeping in constant communication with Gault, in Lisbon, who, however, has not been able to add materially to the original despatch.  Under all the circumstances don’t you think it would be best for me to relieve you of the investigation of this shooting affair so that you can concentrate on this greater and more important thing?”

“Will Senor Alvarez die?” asked Mr. Grimm in turn.

“His condition is serious, although the wound is not necessarily fatal,” was the reply.

Mr. Grimm arose, stretched his long legs and stood for a little while gazing out the window.  Finally he turned to his chief: 

“What do we know, here in the bureau, about Miss Thorne?”

“Thus far the reports on her are of the usual perfunctory nature,” Mr. Campbell explained.  He drew a card from a pigeonhole of his desk and glanced at it.  “She arrived in Washington two weeks and two days ago from New York, off the Lusitania, from Liverpool.  She brought some sort of an introduction to Count di Rosini, the Italian ambassador, and he obtained for her a special invitation to the state ball, which was held that night.  Until four days ago she was a guest at the Italian embassy, but now, as you know, is a guest at the Venezuelan legation.  Since her arrival here she has been prominently pushed forward into society; she has gone everywhere, and been received everywhere in the diplomatic set.  We have no knowledge of her beyond this.”

There was a question in Mr. Grimm’s listless eyes as they met those of his chief.  The same line of thought was running in both their minds, born, perhaps, of the association of ideas—­Italy as one of three great nations known to be in the Latin compact; Prince Benedetto d’Abruzzi, of Italy, the secret envoy of three countries; the sudden appearance of Miss Thorne at the Italian embassy.  And in the mind of the younger man there was more than this—­a definite knowledge of a message cunningly transmitted to Mr. Rankin, of the German embassy, by Miss Thorne there in the ball-room.

“Can you imagine—­” he asked slowly, “can you imagine a person who would be of more value to the Latin governments in Washington right at this stage of the negotiations than a brilliant woman agent?”