Read Elusive Isabel, by Jacques Futrelle for Free Online Page B

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.
    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.
    “Is the test arranged, Rosa?” the little man queried eagerly in Italian.
    “The date is not fixed yet,” she replied in the same language. “It will be, I hope, within the next two weeks. And then—”
    “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.”
    My lady of mystery stroked the slender, nervous hand caressingly, and a great affection shone in the blue-gray eyes.
    “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.”
    “Yes, yes,” he exclaimed. The feverish glitter in his eyes deepened.
    “If there is a fog, of course you will not attempt the test,” she went on.
    “No, not in a fog,” he put in quickly. “It must be clear.”
    “And if it is clear you can see the light in the dome without difficulty.”
    “And all your plans are working out well?”
    “Yes. And yours?”
    “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?”
    “His Highness is safe.” The subtle eyes grew misty, thoughtful for a moment, then cleared again. “He is safe,” she repeated.
    “Mexico and Venezuela were—?” he began.
    “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.”
    “But they must 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 must see it.”
    “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.”
    “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!”
    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