“No alarm was necessary.  The shot itself was an alarm.”

“Then why,” Mr. Grimm persisted coldly, “did you run along the hallway and escape by way of the kitchen?  If you did not do the shooting, why the necessity of escape, carrying the revolver?”

There was that in the blue-gray eyes which brought Mr. Grimm to his feet.  His hands gripped each other cruelly; his tone was calm as always.

“Why did you take the revolver?” he asked.

Miss Thorne’s head drooped forward a little, and she was silent.

“There are only two possibilities, of course,” he went on.  “First, that you, in spite of your denial, did the shooting.”

“I did not!” The words fairly burst from her tightly closed lips.

“Or that you knew the revolver, and took it to save the person, man or woman, who fired the shot.  I will assume, for the moment, that this is correct.  Where is the revolver?”

From the adjoining room there came a slight noise, a faint breath of sound; or it might have been only an echo of silence.  Their eyes were fixed each upon the others unwaveringly, with not a flicker to indicate that either had heard.  After a moment Miss Thorne returned to her chair and sat down.

“It’s rather a singular situation, isn’t it, Mr. Grimm?” she inquired irrelevantly.  “You, Mr. Grimm of the Secret Service of the United States; I, Isabel Thorne, a secret agent of Italy together here, one accusing the other of a crime, and perhaps with good reason.”

“Where is the revolver?” Mr. Grimm insisted.

“If you were any one else but you!  I could not afford to be frank with you and—­”

“If you had been any one else but you I should have placed you under arrest when I entered the room.”

She smiled, and inclined her head.

“I understand,” she said pleasantly.  “For the reason that you are Mr. Grimm of the Secret Service I shall tell you the truth.  I did take the revolver because I knew who had fired the shot.  Believe me when I tell you that that person did not act with my knowledge or consent.  You do believe that?  You do?” She was pleading, eager to convince him.

After a while Mr. Grimm nodded.

“The revolver is beyond your reach and shall remain so,” she resumed.  “According to your laws I suppose I am an accomplice.  That is my misfortune.  It will in no way alter my determination to keep silent.  If I am arrested I can’t help it.”  She studied his face with hopeful eyes.  “Am I to be arrested?”

“Where is the paper that was taken from Senor Alvarez immediately after he was shot?” Mr. Grimm queried.

“I don’t know,” she replied frankly.

“As I understand it, then, the motive for the shooting was to obtain possession of that paper?  For your government?”

“The individual who shot Senor Alvarez did obtain the paper, yes.  And now, please, am I to be arrested?”