"My dressing-table?" she repeated.
We ran quickly up the steps. Elaine's room showed every evidence of having been the scene of a struggle, as she went over to the table. There she picked up a rose and under it a piece of paper on which were some words printed with pencil roughly.
"Look," she cried, as I read with her:
Do honest assistants search safes?
Let no one see this but Jameson.
"What does it mean?" I asked.
"My safe!" she cried moving to a closet. As she opened the door, imagine our surprise at seeing Del Mar lying on the floor, bound and gagged before the open safe. "Get my scissors on the dresser," cried Elaine.
I did so, hastily cutting the cords that bound Del Mar.
"What does it all mean?" asked Elaine as he rose and stretched himself.
Still clutching his throat, as if it hurt, Del Mar choked, "I found a man, a foreign agent, searching the safe. But he overcame me and escaped."
"Oh—then that is what the—"