The three men came to their feet instantly, and one of them—he of the heavy face—drew a revolver. Mr. Grimm faced him placidly.
"Do you know what would happen to you if you killed me?" he inquired pleasantly. "You wouldn't live three minutes. Do you imagine I came in here blindly? There are a dozen men guarding the entrances to the house—a pistol shot would bring them in. Put down the gun!"
Eyes challenged eyes for one long tense instant, and the man carefully laid the weapon on the table. Mr. Grimm strolled over and picked it up, after which he glanced inquiringly at the other man—the ambassador's second guard.
"And you are the gentleman, I dare say, who made the necessary trips to the ambassador's house, probably using his latch-key?" he remarked interrogatively. "First for the letters to be signed, and again for the cigarettes?"
There was no answer and Mr. Grimm turned questioningly to Monsieur Boisségur, silent, white of face, motionless.
"Yes, Monsieur," the ambassador burst out suddenly. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Miss Thorne.
"And your escape, Monsieur?" continued Mr. Grimm.
"I did escape, Monsieur, last night," the ambassador explained, "but they knew it immediately—they pursued me into my own house, these two and another—and dragged me back here! Mon Dieu, Monsieur, c'est—!"
"That's all that's necessary," remarked Mr. Grimm. "You are free to go now."
"But there are others," Monsieur Boisségur interposed desperately, "two more somewhere below, and they will not allow—they will attack—!"