stethoscope against the safe door and began turning the dial back toward
ten, slowly, slowly. Thirty-five minutes later the lock clicked. Mr.
Grimm rose, turned the handle, and pulled the safe door open.

"That's how it was done," he explained to the amazed diplomatist. "And
now, please, have a servant hand my card to Miss Thorne."




XI

THE LACE HANDKERCHIEF


Still wearing the graceful, filmy morning gown, with an added touch, of
scarlet in her hair--a single red rose--Miss Thorne came into the
drawing-room where Mr. Grimm sat waiting. There was curiosity in her
manner, thinly veiled, but the haunting smile still lingered about her
lips. Mr. Grimm bowed low, and placed a chair for her, after which he
stood for a time staring down at one slim, white hand at rest on the arm
of the seat. At last, he, too, sat down.

"I believe," he said slowly, without preliminaries, "this is your
handkerchief?"

He offered the lacy trifle, odd in design, unique in workmanship,
obviously of foreign texture, and she accepted it.

"Yes," she agreed readily, "I must have dropped it again."