<h3> THE SIGNAL </h3>
<p> </p>
<p>"And the original question remains unanswered,"
remarked Mr. Campbell.</p>
<p>"The original question?" repeated
Mr. Grimm.</p>
<p>"<i>Where</i> is Prince Benedetto d'Abruzzi, the
secret envoy?" his chief reminded him.</p>
<p>"I wonder!" mused the young man.</p>
<p>"If the Latin compact is signed in the United
States—?"</p>
<p>"The Latin compact will <i>not</i> be signed in the
United States," Mr. Grimm interrupted. And
then, after a moment: "Have we received any
further reports on Miss Thorne? I mean reports
from our foreign agents?"</p>
<p>The chief shook his head.</p>
<p>"Inevitably, by some act or word, she will lead
us to the prince," declared Mr. Grimm, "and the
moment he is known to us everything becomes
plain sailing. We know she <i>is</i> a secret agent—I expected
a denial, but she was quite frank
about it. And I had no intention whatever of
placing her under arrest. I knew some one was
in the adjoining room because of a slight noise
in there, and I knew she knew it. She raised her
voice a little, obviously for the benefit of whoever
was there. From that point everything I
said and did was to compel that person, whoever
it was, to show himself."</p>
<p>His chief nodded, understandingly. Mr.
Grimm was silent for a little, then went on:</p>
<p>"The last possibility in my mind at that moment,"
he confessed, "was that the person in
there was the man who shot Señor Alvarez.
Frankly I had half an idea that—that it might
be the prince in person." Suddenly his mood
changed: "And now our lady of mystery may
come and go as she likes because I know, even if
a dozen of our men have ransacked Washington
in vain for the prince, she will inevitably lead
us to him. And that reminds me: I should like
to borrow Blair, and Hastings, and Johnson.
Please plant them so they may keep constant
watch on Miss Thorne. Let them report to you,
and, wherever I am, I will reach you over the
'phone."</p>
<p>"By the way, what was in that sealed packet
that was taken from Señor Alvarez?" Campbell
inquired curiously.</p>
<p>"It had something to do with some railroad
franchises," responded Mr. Grimm as he rose.
"I sealed it again and returned it to the señor.
Evidently it was not what Signor Petrozinni expected
to find—in fact, he admitted it wasn't
what he was looking for."</p>
<p>For a little while the two men gazed thoughtfully,
each into the eyes of the other, then Mr.
Grimm entered his private office where he sat for
an hour with his immaculate boots on his desk,
thinking. A world-war—he had been thrust
forward by his government to prevent it—subtle
blue-gray eyes—his Highness, Prince Benedetto
d'Abruzzi—a haunting smile and scarlet lips.</p>
<p>At about the moment he rose to go out, Miss
Thorne, closely veiled, left the Venezuelan legation
and walked rapidly down the street to a
corner, where, without a word, she entered a
waiting automobile. The wheels spun and the car
leaped forward. For a mile or more it wound
aimlessly in and out, occasionally bisecting its
own path; finally Miss Thorne leaned forward
and touched the chauffeur on the arm.</p>
<p>"Now!" she said.</p>
<p>The car straightened out into a street of
stately residences and scuttled along until the
placid bosom of the Potomac came into view;
beside that for a few minutes, then over the
bridge to the Virginia side, in the dilapidated
little city of Alexandria. The car did not slacken
its speed, but wound in and out through
dingy streets, past tumble-down negro huts, for
half an hour before it came to a standstill in
front of an old brick mansion.</p>
<p>"This is number ninety-seven," the chauffeur
announced.</p>
<p>Miss Thorne entered the house with a key
and was gone for ten minutes, perhaps. She
was readjusting her veil when she came out and
stepped into the car silently. Again it moved
forward, on to the end of the dingy street, and
finally into the open country. Three, four, five
miles, perhaps, out the old Baltimore Road, and
again the car stopped, this time in front of an
ancient colonial farm-house.</p>
<p>Outwardly the place seemed to be deserted.
The blinds, battered and stripped of paint by
wind and rain, were all closed, and one corner
of the small veranda had crumbled away from
age and neglect. A narrow path, strewn with
pine needles, led tortuously up to the door. In
the rear of the house, rising from an old barn, a
thin pole with a cup-like attachment at the apex,
thrust its point into the open above the dense,
odorous pines. It appeared to be a wireless
mast. Miss Thorne passed around the house,
and entered the barn.</p>
<p>A man came forward and kissed her—a thin,
little man of indeterminate age—drying his
hands on a piece of cotton waste. His face was
pale with the pallor of one who knows little outdoor
life, his eyes deep-set and a-glitter with
some feverish inward fire, and the thin lips were
pressed together in a sharp line. Behind him
was a long bench on which were scattered tools
of various sorts, fantastically shaped chemical
apparatus, two or three electric batteries of odd
sizes, and ranged along one end of it, in a row,
were a score or more metal spheroids, a shade
larger than a one-pound shell. From somewhere
in the rear came the clatter of a small gasoline
engine, and still farther away was an electric
dynamo.</p>
<p>"Is the test arranged, Rosa?" the little man
queried eagerly in Italian.</p>
<p>"The date is not fixed yet," she replied in the
same language. "It will be, I hope, within the
next two weeks. And then—"</p>
<p>"Fame and fortune for both of us," he interrupted
with quick enthusiasm. "Ah, Rosa, I
have worked and waited so long for this, and
now it will come, and with it the dominion of the
world again by our country. How will I know
when the date is fixed? It would not be well to
write me here."</p>
<p>My lady of mystery stroked the slender,
nervous hand caressingly, and a great affection
shone in the blue-gray eyes.</p>
<p>"At eight o'clock on the night of the test,"
she explained, still speaking Italian, "a single
light will appear at the apex of the capitol dome
in Washington. That is the signal agreed
upon; it can be seen by all in the city, and is
visible here from the window of your bedroom."</p>
<p>"Yes, yes," he exclaimed. The feverish glitter
in his eyes deepened.</p>
<p>"If there is a fog, of course you will not attempt
the test," she went on.</p>
<p>"No, not in a fog," he put in quickly. "It
must be clear."</p>
<p>"And if it is clear you can see the light in the
dome without difficulty."</p>
<p>"And all your plans are working out well?"</p>
<p>"Yes. And yours?"</p>
<p>"I don't think there is any question but that
both England and the United States will buy.
Do you know what it means? Do you know what
it means?" He was silent a moment, his hands
working nervously. Then, with an effort: "And
his Highness?"</p>
<p>"His Highness is safe." The subtle eyes
grew misty, thoughtful for a moment, then
cleared again. "He is safe," she repeated.</p>
<p>"Mexico and Venezuela were—?" he began.</p>
<p>"We don't know, yet, what they will do. The
Venezuelan answer is locked in the safe at the
legation; I will know what it is within forty-eight
hours." She was silent a little. "Our difficulty
now, our greatest difficulty, is the hostility
of the French ambassador to the compact.
His government has not yet notified him of the
presence of Prince d'Abruzzi; he does not believe
in the feasibility of the plan, and we have
to—to proceed to extremes to prevent him working
against us."</p>
<p>"But they <i>must</i> see the incalculable advantages
to follow upon such a compact, with the
vast power that will be given to them over the
whole earth by this." He indicated the long,
littered work-table. "They <i>must</i> see it."</p>
<p>"They will see it, Luigi," said Miss Thorne
gently. "And now, how are you? Are you
well? Are you comfortable? It's such a dreary
old place here."</p>
<p>"I suppose so," he replied, and he met the solicitous
blue-gray eyes for an instant. "Yes, I
am quite comfortable," he added. "I have no
time to be otherwise with all the work I must do.
It will mean so much!"</p>
<p>They were both silent for a time. Finally
Miss Thorne walked over to the long table and
curiously lifted one of the spheroids. It was a
sinister looking thing, nickeled, glittering. At
one end of it was a delicate, vibratory apparatus,
not unlike the transmitter of a telephone,
and the other end was threaded, as if the
spheroid was made as an attachment to some
other device.</p>
<p>"With that we control the world!" exclaimed
the man triumphantly. "And it's mine, Rosa,
mine!"</p>
<p>"It's wonderful!" she mused softly. "Wonderful!
And now I must go. I may not see you
again until after the test, because I shall be
watched and followed wherever I go. If I get an
opportunity I shall reach you by telephone, but
not even that unless it is necessary. There is
always danger, always danger!" she repeated
thoughtfully. She was thinking of Mr. Grimm.</p>
<p>"I understand," said the man simply.</p>
<p>"And look out for the signal—the light in
the apex of the capitol dome," she went on. "I
understand the night must be perfectly clear;
and <i>you</i> understand that the test is to be made
promptly at three o'clock by your chronometer?"</p>
<p>"At three o'clock," he repeated.</p>
<p>For a moment they stood with their arms
around each other, then tenderly his visitor
kissed him, and went out. He remained looking
after her vacantly until the chug-chug of her
automobile, as it moved off down the road, was
lost in the distance, then turned again to the
long work-table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<SPAN name="CH8"><!-- CHAPTER 8 --></SPAN>
<h3> VIII </h3>
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