"Which room, please?"

"The blue room, Madam."

Miss Thorne passed along the hallway which led to a suite of small
drawing-rooms opening on a garden in the rear, pushed aside the
portières, and entered.

"I'm sorry I've kept you--" she began, and then, in a tone of surprise:
"I beg your pardon."

A gentleman rose and bowed gravely.

"I am Mr. Grimm of the Secret Service," he informed her with frank
courtesy. "I am afraid you were expecting some one else; I handed my
card to the footman."

For an instant the blue-gray eyes opened wide in astonishment, and then
some quick, subtle change swept over Miss Thorne's face. She smiled
graciously and motioned him to a seat.

"This is quite a different meeting from the one Señorita Rodriguez had
planned, isn't it?" she asked.

There was a taunting curve on her scarlet lips; the shadow passed from
her eyes; her slim, white hands lay idle in her lap. Mr. Grimm regarded
her reflectively. There was a determination of steel back of this
charming exterior; there was an indomitable will, a keen brain, and all
of a woman's intuition to reckon with. She was silent, with a