stairs, and they stepped into a room, one of a suite. She closed the
door and turned on the lights.

"The bags of gold are in the next room," she said with the utmost
composure.

Mr. Grimm dragged them out of a dark closet, opened one--there were
ten--and allowed the coins to dribble through his fingers. Finally he
turned and stared at Miss Thorne, who, pallid and weary, stood looking
on.

"Where are we?" he asked. "What house is this?"

"The Venezuelan legation," she answered. "We are standing less than
forty feet from the safe that was robbed. You see how easy--!"

"And whose room?" inquired Mr. Grimm slowly.

"Must I answer?" she asked appealingly.

"You must!"

"Señorita Rodriguez--my hostess! Don't you see what you've made me do?
She and Mr. Cadwallader made the trip to Baltimore in his automobile,
and--and--!" She stopped. "He knows nothing of it," she added.

"Yes, I know," said Mr. Grimm.

He stood looking at her in silence for a moment, staring deeply into the
pleading eyes; and a certain tense expression about his lips passed. For