telegraphed with your fan in the ball-room?"

"You read that?" exclaimed Miss Thorne in mock astonishment. "You read
that?"

"And the man who read that message? Perhaps he shot the señor?"

"Perhaps," she taunted.

For a long time Mr. Grimm stood staring at her, staring, staring. She,
too, rose, and faced him quietly.

"Am I to be arrested?" she asked again.

"Why do you make me do it?" he demanded.

"That is my affair."

Mr. Grimm laid a hand upon her arm, a hand that had never known
nervousness. A moment longer he stared, and then:

"Madam, you are my prisoner for the attempted murder of Señor Alvarez!"

The rings on the portières behind him clicked sharply, and the draperies
parted. Mr. Grimm stood motionless, with his hand on Miss Thorne's arm.

"You were inquiring a moment ago for a revolver," came in a man's voice.
"Here it is!"

Mr. Grimm found himself inspecting the weapon from the barrel end. After