Elusive Isabel, by Jacques Futrelle Unknown (best fiction novels to read TXT) 📖

and, standing away from the window, safe beyond the reach of prying eyes, waited patiently for the postman. He appeared about five o’clock and simultaneously another man turned the corner near the post-box and spoke to him. Then, together, they disappeared from view around the corner.

“So that’s Johnson, is it?” mused Miss Thorne, and she smiled a little. “Mr. Grimm certainly pays me the compliment of having me carefully watched.”

A few minutes later she dropped into the seat at the desk again. The dark wrap had been thrown aside and Hastings and Blair from their hiding-places could see her distinctly. After a while they saw her rise quickly, as an automobile turned into the avenue, and lean toward the window eagerly looking out. The car came to a standstill in front of the legation, and Mr. Cadwallader, an undersecretary of the British embassy, who was alone in the car, raised his cap. She nodded and smiled, then disappeared in the shadows of the room again.

Mr. Cadwallader went to the door, spoke to the servant there, then returned and busied himself about the car. Hastings and Blair watched intently both the door and the window for a long time; finally a closely veiled and muffled figure appeared at the bay-window, and waved a gloved hand at Mr. Cadwallader, who again lifted his cap. A minute later the veiled woman came out of the front door, shook hands with Mr. Cadwallader, and got in the car. He also climbed in, and the car moved slowly away.

Simultaneously the front door of the house on the corner, where Hastings had been hiding, and the front door of the house near the corner, where Blair had been hiding, opened and two heads peered out. As the car approached Hastings’ hiding-place he withdrew into the hallway; but Blair came out and hurried past the legation in the direction of the rapidly disappearing motor. Hastings joined him; they spoke together, then turned the corner.

It was about ten o’clock that night when Hastings reported to Mr. Campbell at his home.

“We followed the car in a rented automobile from the time it turned the corner, out through Alexandria, and along the old Baltimore Road into the city of Baltimore,” he explained. “It was dark by the time we reached Alexandria, but we stuck to the car ahead, running without lights until we came in sight of Druid Hill Park, and then we had to show lights or be held up. We covered those forty miles going in less than two hours.

“After the car passed Druid Hill it slowed up a little, and ran off the turnpike into North Avenue, then into North Charles Street, and slowly along that as if they were looking for a number. At last it stopped and Miss Thorne got out and entered a house. She was gone for more than half an hour, leaving Mr. Cadwallader with the car. While she was gone I made some inquiries and learned that the house was occupied by a Mr. Thomas Q. Griswold. I don’t know anything else about him; Blair may have learned something.

“Now comes the curious part of it,” and Hastings looked a little sheepish. “When Miss Thorne came out of the house she was not Miss Thorne at all—_she was Senorita Inez Rodriguez_, daughter of the Venezuelan minister. She wore the same clothing Miss Thorne had worn going, but her veil was lifted. Veiled and all muffled up one would have taken oath it was the same woman. She and Cadwallader are back in Washington now, or are coming. That’s all, except Blair is still in Baltimore, awaiting orders. I caught the train from the Charles Street station and came back. Johnson, you know—”

“Yes, I’ve seen Johnson,” interrupted Campbell. “Are you absolutely positive that the woman you saw get into the automobile with Mr. Cadwallader was Miss Thorne?”

“Absolutely,” replied Hastings without hesitation. “I saw her in her own room with her wraps on, then saw her come down and get into the car.”

“That’s all,” said the chief. “Good night.” For an hour or more he sat in a great, comfortable chair in the smoking-room of his own home, the guileless blue eyes vacant, staring, and spidery lines in the benevolent forehead.

*

On the morning of the second day following, Senor Rodriguez, the minister from Venezuela, reported to the Secret Service Bureau the disappearance of fifty thousand dollars in gold from a safe in his private office at the legation.

IX

FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS

Mr. Campbell was talking.

“For several months past,” he said, “the International Investment Company, through its representative, Mr. Cressy, has been secretly negotiating with Senor Rodriguez for certain asphalt properties in Venezuela. Three days ago these negotiations were successfully concluded, and yesterday afternoon Mr. Cressy, in secret, paid to Senor Rodriguez, fifty thousand dollars in American gold, the first of four payments of similar sums. This gold was to have been shipped to Philadelphia by express to-day to catch a steamer for Venezuela.” Mr. Grimm nodded.

“The fact that this gold was in Senor Rodriguez’s possession could not have been known to more than half a dozen persons, as the negotiations throughout have been in strict secrecy,” and Mr. Campbell smiled benignly. “So much! Now, Senor Rodriguez has just telephoned asking that I send a man to the legation at once. The gold was kept there over night; or perhaps I should say that the senor intended to keep it there over night.” Mr. Campbell stared at Mr. Grimm for a moment, then: “Miss Thorne, you know, is a guest at the legation, that is why I am referring the matter to you.”

“I understand,” said Mr. Grimm.

And ten minutes later Mr. Grimm presented himself to Senor Rodriguez. The minister from Venezuela, bubbling with excitement, was pacing forth and back across his office, ruffling his gray-black hair with nervous, twining fingers. Mr. Grimm sat down.

“Senor,” he inquired placidly, “fifty thousand dollars in gold would weigh nearly two hundred pounds, wouldn’t it?”

Senor Rodriguez