"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