<h3> THE LIGHT IN THE DOME </h3>
<p> </p>
<p>From where he sat, in a tiny alcove which
jutted out and encroached upon the line
of the sidewalk, Mr. Grimm looked down
on Pennsylvania Avenue, the central thread of
Washington, ever changing, always brilliant,
splashed at regular intervals with light from
high-flung electric arcs. The early theater
crowd was in the street, well dressed, well fed,
careless for the moment of all things save physical
comfort and amusement; automobiles, carriages,
cabs, cars flowed past endlessly; and yet
Mr. Grimm saw naught of it. In the distance,
at one end of the avenue the dome of the capitol
cleft the shadows of night, and a single light
sparkled at its apex; in the other direction, at
the left of the treasury building which abruptly
blocks the wide thoroughfare, were the shimmering
windows of the White House.</p>
<p>Motionless, moody, thoughtful, Mr. Grimm
sat staring, staring straight ahead, comprehending
none of these things which lay before him
as in a panorama. Instead, his memory was conjuring
up a pair of subtle, blue-gray eyes, now
pleading, now coquettish, now frankly defiant;
two slim, white, wonderful hands; the echo of a
pleasant, throaty laugh; a splendid, elusive, radiant-haired
phantom. Truly, a woman of mystery!
Who was this Isabel Thorne who, for
months past, had been the storm-center and directing
mind of a vast international intrigue
which threatened the world with war? Who,
this remarkable young woman who with ease and
assurance commanded ambassadors and played
nations as pawns?</p>
<p>Now that she was safely out of the country
Mr. Grimm had leisure to speculate. Upon him
had devolved the duty of blocking her plans,
and he had done so—merciless alike of his own
feeling and of hers. Hesitation or evasion had
never occurred to him. It was a thing to be done,
and he did it. He wondered if she had understood,
there at the last beside the rail? He wondered
if she knew the struggle it had cost him
deliberately to send her out of his life? Or had
even surmised that her expulsion from the country,
by his direct act, was wholly lacking in the
exaltation of triumph to him; that it struck
deeper than that, below the listless, official exterior,
into his personal happiness? And wondering,
he knew that she <i>did</i> understand.</p>
<p>A silent shod waiter came and placed the coffee
things at his elbow. He didn't heed. The
waiter poured a demi-tasse, and inquiringly
lifted a lump of sugar in the silver tongs. Still
Mr. Grimm didn't heed. At last the waiter deposited
the sugar on the edge of the fragile saucer,
and moved away as silently as he had come.
A newspaper which Mr. Grimm had placed on
the end of the table when he sat down, rattled a
little as a breeze from the open window caught it,
then the top sheet slid off and fell to the floor.
Mr. Grimm was still staring out the window.</p>
<p>Slowly the room behind him was thinning of
its crowd as the theater-bound diners went out
in twos and threes. The last of these disappeared
finally, and save for Mr. Grimm there
were not more than a dozen persons left in the
place. Thus for a few minutes, and then the
swinging doors leading from the street clicked,
and a gentleman entered. He glanced around,
as if seeking a seat near a window, then moved
along in Mr. Grimm's direction, between the
rows of tables. His gaze lingered on Mr.
Grimm for an instant, and when he came opposite
he stooped and picked up the fallen newspaper
sheet.</p>
<p>"Your paper?" he inquired courteously.</p>
<p>Mr. Grimm was still gazing dreamily out of
the window.</p>
<p>"I beg pardon," insisted the new-comer pleasantly.
He folded the paper once and replaced
it on the table. One hand lingered for just the
fraction of a moment above Mr. Grimm's coffee-cup.</p>
<p>Aroused by the remark, Mr. Grimm glanced
around.</p>
<p>"Oh, thank you," he apologized hastily. "I
didn't hear you at first. Thank you."</p>
<p>The new-comer nodded, smiled and passed on,
taking a seat two or three tables down.</p>
<p>Apparently this trifling courtesy had broken
the spell of reverie, for Mr. Grimm squared
around to the table again, drew his coffee-cup
toward him, and dropped in the single lump of
sugar. He idly stirred it for a moment, as his
eyes turned again toward the open window, then
he lifted the tiny cup and emptied it.</p>
<p>Again he sat motionless for a long time, and
thrice the new-comer, only a few feet away,
glanced at him narrowly. And now, it seemed,
a peculiar drowsiness was overtaking Mr.
Grimm. Once he caught himself nodding and
raised his head with a jerk. Then he noticed
that the arc lights in the street were wobbling
curiously, and he fell to wondering why that
single flame sparkled at the apex of the capitol
dome. Things around him grew hazy, vague,
unreal, and then, as if realizing that something
was the matter with him, he came to his feet.</p>
<p>He took one step forward into the space between
the tables, reeled, attempted to steady
himself by holding on to a chair, then everything
grew black about him, and he pitched forward
on the floor. His face was dead white;
his fingers moved a little, nervously, weakly,
then they were still.</p>
<p>Several people rose at the sound of the falling
body, and the new-comer hurried forward. His
coat sleeve caught the empty demi-tasse, as he
stooped, and swept it to the floor, where it was
shattered. The head waiter and another came,
pell-mell, and those diners who had risen came
more slowly.</p>
<p>"What's the matter?" asked the head waiter
anxiously.</p>
<p>Already the new-comer was supporting Mr.
Grimm on his knee, and flicking water in his
face.</p>
<p>"Nothing serious, I fancy," he answered
shortly. "He's subject to these little attacks."</p>
<p>"What are they? Who is he?"</p>
<p>The stranger tore at Mr. Grimm's collar until
it came loose, then he fell to chafing the still
hands.</p>
<p>"He is a Mr. Grimm, a government employee—I
know him," he answered again. "I imagine
it's nothing more serious than indigestion."</p>
<p>A little knot had gathered about them, with
offers of assistance.</p>
<p>"Waiter, hadn't you better send for a physician?"
some one suggested.</p>
<p>"I'm a physician," the stranger put in impatiently.
"Have some one call a cab, and I'll see
that he's taken home. It happens that we live in
the same apartment house, just a few blocks from
here."</p>
<p>Obedient to the crisply-spoken directions, a
cab was called, and five minutes later Mr.
Grimm, still insensible, was lifted into it. The
stranger took a seat beside him, the cabby
touched his horse with a whip, and the vehicle
fell into the endless, moving line.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<SPAN name="CH21"><!-- CHAPTER 21 --></SPAN>
<h3> XXI </h3>
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