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diff --git a/1913-h/1913-h.htm b/1913-h/1913-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c59bb00 --- /dev/null +++ b/1913-h/1913-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13238 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Drums of Jeopardy, by Harold Macgrath + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Drums Of Jeopardy, by Harold MacGrath + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Drums Of Jeopardy + +Author: Harold MacGrath + +Release Date: October 10, 2008 [EBook #1913] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRUMS OF JEOPARDY *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE DRUMS OF JEOPARDY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Harold MacGrath + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + A fast train drew into Albany, on the New York Central, from the West. It + was three-thirty of a chill March morning in the first year of peace. A + pall of fog lay over the world so heavy that it beaded the face and hands + and deposited a fairy diamond dust upon wool. The station lights had the + visibility of stars, and like the stars were without refulgence—a + pale golden aureola, perhaps three feet in diameter, and beyond, nothing. + The few passengers who alighted and the train itself had the same + nebulosity of drab fish in a dim aquarium. + </p> + <p> + Among the passengers to detrain was a man in a long black coat. The high + collar was up. The man wore a derby hat, well down upon his head, after + the English mode. An English kitbag, battered and scarred, swung heavily + from his hand. He immediately strode for the station wall and stood with + his back to it. He was almost invisible. He remained motionless until the + other detrained passengers swam past, until the red tail lights of the + last coach vanished into the deeps; then he rushed for the exit to the + street. + </p> + <p> + Away toward the far end of the platform there appeared a shadowy patch in + the fog. It grew and presently took upon itself the shape of a man. For + one so short and squat and thick his legs possessed remarkable agility, + for he reached the street just as the other man stopped at the side of a + taxicab. + </p> + <p> + The fool! As if such a movement had not been anticipated. Sixteen thousand + miles, always eastward, on horses, camels, donkeys, trains, and ships; + down China to the sea, over that to San Francisco, thence across this + bewildering stretch of cities and plains called the United States, always + and ever toward New York—and the fool thought he could escape! + Thought he was flying, when in truth he was being driven toward a wall in + which there would be no breach! Behind and in front the net was closing. + Up to this hour he had been extremely clever in avoiding contact. This was + his first stupid act—thought the fog would serve as an impenetrable + cloak. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, the other man reached into the taxicab and awoke the sleeping + chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + “A hotel,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “Any one will do.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Two dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “When we arrive. No; I'll take the bag inside with me.” Inside the cab the + fare chuckled. For those who fished there would be no fish in the net. + This fog—like a kindly hand reaching down from heaven! + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later the taxicab drew up in front of a hotel. The unknown + stepped out, took a leather purse from his pocket and carefully counted + out in silver two dollars and twenty cents, which he poured into the + chauffeur's palm. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an American?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure! I was born in this burg.” + </p> + <p> + “Like the idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” + </p> + <p> + “The idea of being an American?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say yes! This is one grand little gob o' mud, believe me! It's + going to be dry in a little while, and then it will be some grand little + old brick. Say, let me give you a tip! The gas in this joint is extra if + you blow it out!” + </p> + <p> + Grinning, the chauffeur threw on the power and wheeled away into the fog. + </p> + <p> + His late fare followed the vehicle with his gaze until it reached the + vanishing point, then he laughed. An American cockney! He turned and + entered the hotel. He marched resolutely up to the desk and roused the + sleeping clerk, who swung round the register. The unknown without + hesitance inscribed his name, which was John Hawksley. But he hesitated + the fraction of a second before adding his place of residence—London. + </p> + <p> + “A room with a bath, if you please; second flight. Have the man call me at + seven.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Here, boy!” + </p> + <p> + Sleepily the bellboy lifted the battered kitbag and led the way to the + elevator. + </p> + <p> + “Bawth!” said the night clerk, as the elevator door slithered to the + latch. “Bawth! The old dear!” + </p> + <p> + He returned to his chair, hoping that he would not be disturbed again + until he was relieved. + </p> + <p> + What do we care, so long as we don't know? What's the stranger to us but a + fleeting shadow? The Odysseys that pass us every day, and we none the + wiser! + </p> + <p> + The clerk had not properly floated away into dreams when he was again + roused. Resentfully he opened his eyes. A huge fist covered with a fell of + black hair rose and fell. Attached to this fist was an arm, and joined to + that were enormous shoulders. The clerk's trailing, sleep-befogged glance + paused when it reached the newcomer's face. The jaws and cheeks and upper + lip were blue-black with a beard that required extra-tempered razors once + a day. Black eyes that burned like opals, a bullet-shaped head well + cropped, and a pudgy nose broad in the nostrils. Because this second + arrival wore his hat well forward the clerk was not able to discern the + pinched forehead of the fanatic. Not wholly unpleasant, not particularly + agreeable; the sort of individual one preferred to walk round rather than + bump into. The clerk offered the register, and the squat man scratched his + name impatiently, grabbed the extended key, and trotted to the elevator. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” mused the clerk, “we have with us Mr. Poppy—Popo—” He + stared at the signature close up. “Hanged if I can make it out! It looks + like some new brand of soft drink we'll be having after July first. Greek + or Bulgarian. Anyhow, he didn't awsk for a bawth. Looks as if he needed + one, too. Here, boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Take a peek at this John Hancock.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee! That must be the guy who makes that drugstore drink—Boolzac.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk swung out, but missed the boy's head by a hair. The boy stood + off, grinning. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you ast me!” + </p> + <p> + “All right. If anybody else comes in tell 'em we're full up. I'll be a + wreck to-morrow without my usual beauty sleep.” The clerk dropped into his + chair again and elevated his feet to the radiator. + </p> + <p> + “Want me t' git a pillow for yuh?” + </p> + <p> + “No back talk!”—drowsily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! boy, but I got one on you!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “This Boolzac guy didn't have no baggage, and yuh give 'im the key without + little ol' three-per in advance.” + </p> + <p> + “No grip?” + </p> + <p> + “Nix. Not a toot'brush in sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the damage is done. I might as well go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + It was not premeditated on the part of the clerk to give the squat man the + room adjoining that of Hawksley's. The key had been nearest his hand. But + the squat man trembled with excitement when he noted that it was stamped + 214. He had taken particular pains to search the register for Hawksley's + number before rousing the clerk. He hadn't counted on any such luck as + this. His idea had been merely to watch the door of Room 212. + </p> + <p> + He had the feline foot, as they say. He moved about lightly and without + sound in the dark. Almost at once he approached one of the two doors and + put his ear to the panel. Running water. The fool had time to take a bath! + </p> + <p> + A plan flashed into his head. Why not end the affair here and now, and + reap the glory for himself? What mattered the net if the fish swam into + your hand? Wasn't this particularly his affair? It was the end, not the + means. A close touch in Hong-Kong, but the fool had slipped away. But + there, in the next room, assured that he had escaped—it would be + easy. The squat man tiptoed to the window. Luck of luck, there was a + fire-escape platform! He would let half an hour pass, then he would act. + The ape, with his British mannerisms! Death to the breed, root and branch! + He sat down to wait. + </p> + <p> + On the other side of the wall the bather finished his ablutions. His body + was graceful, vigorous, and youthful, tinted a golden bronze. His nose was + hawky; his eyes a Latin brown, alert and roving, though there was a hint + of weariness in them, the pressure of long, racking hours of ceaseless + vigilance. His top hair was a glossy black inclined to curl; but the four + days' growth of beard was as blond as a ripe chestnut burr. In spite of + this mark of vagabondage there were elements of beauty in the face. The + expanse of the brow and the shape of the head were intellectual. The mouth + was pleasure-loving, but the nose and the jaw neutralized this. + </p> + <p> + After he had towelled himself he reached down for a brown leather pouch + which lay on the three-legged bathroom stool. It was patently a tobacco + pouch, but there was evidently something inside more precious than + Saloniki. He held the pouch on his palm and stared at it as if it + contained some jinn clamouring to be let out. Presently he broke away from + this fascination and rocked his body, eyes closed—like a man + suffering unremitting pain. + </p> + <p> + “God's curse on them!” he whispered, opening his eyes. He raised the pouch + swiftly, as though he intended dashing it to the tiled floor; but his arm + sank gently. After all, he would be a fool to destroy them. They were + future bread and butter. + </p> + <p> + He would soon have their equivalent in money—money that would bring + back no terrible recollections. + </p> + <p> + Strange that every so often, despite the horror, he had to take them out + and gaze at them. He sat down upon the stool, spread a towel across his + knees, and opened the pouch. He drew out a roll of cotton wool, which he + unrolled across the towel. Flames! Blue flames, red, yellow, violet, and + green—precious stones, many of them with histories that reached back + into the dim centuries, histories of murder and loot and envy. The young + man had imagination—perhaps too much of it. He saw the stones + palpitating upon lovely white and brown bosoms; he saw bloody and greedy + hands, the red sack of towns; he heard the screams of women and the + raucous laughter of drunken men. Murder and loot. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the cotton wool lay two emeralds about the size of half + dollars and half an inch in thickness, polished, and as vividly green as a + dragonfly in the sun, fit for the turban of Schariar, spouse of + Scheherazade. + </p> + <p> + Rodin would have seized upon the young man's attitude—the limp body, + the haggard face—hewn it out of marble and called it Conscience. The + possessor of the stones held this attitude for three or four minutes. Then + he rolled up the cotton wool, jammed it into the pouch, which he hung to + his neck by a thong, and sprang to his feet. No more of this brooding; it + was sapping his vitality; and he was not yet at his journey's end. + </p> + <p> + He proceeded to the bedroom, emptied the battered kitbag, and began to + dress. He put on heavy tan walking shoes, gray woollen stockings, gray + knickerbockers, gray flannel shirt, and a Norfolk jacket minus the third + button. + </p> + <p> + Ah, that button! He fingered the loose threads which had aforetime snugged + the button to the wool. The carelessness of a tailor had saved his life. + Had that button held, his bones at this moment would be reposing on the + hillside in far-away Hong-Kong. Evidently Fate had some definite plans + regarding his future, else he would not be in this room, alive. But what + plans? Why should Fate bother about him further? She had strained the + orange to the last drop. Why protect the pulp? Perhaps she was only making + sport of him, lulling him into the belief that eventually he might win + through. One thing, she would never be able to twist his heart again. You + cannot fill a cup with water beyond the brim. And God knew that his cup + had been full and bitter and red. + </p> + <p> + His hand swept across his eyes as if to brush away the pictures suddenly + conjured up. He must keep his thoughts off those things. There was a taint + of madness in his blood, and several times he had sensed the brink at his + feet. But God had been kind to him in one respect: The blood of his + glorious mother predominated. + </p> + <p> + How many were after him, and who? He had not been able to recognize the + man that night in Hong-Kong. That was the fate of the pursued: one never + dared pause to look back, while the pursuers had their man before them + always. If only he could have broken through into Greece, England would + have been easy. The only door open had been in the East. It seemed + incredible that he should be standing in this room, but three hours from + his goal. + </p> + <p> + America! The land of the free and the brave! And the irony of it was that + he must seek in America the only friends he had in the world. All the + Englishmen he had known and loved were dead. He had never made friends + with the French, though he loved France. In this country alone he might + successfully lose himself and begin life anew. The British were British + and the French were French; but in this magnificent America they possessed + the tenacity of the one and the gayety of the other—these joyous, + unconquered, speed-loving Americans. + </p> + <p> + He took up the overcoat. Under the light it was no longer black but a very + deep green. On both sleeves there were narrow bands of a still deeper + green, indicating that gold or silver braid had once befrogged the cuffs. + Inside, soft silky Persian lamb; and he ran his fingers over the fur + thoughtfully. The coat was still impregnated with the strong odour of + horse. He cast it aside, never to touch it again. From the discarded small + coat he extracted a black wallet and opened it. That passport! He wondered + if there existed another more cleverly forged. It would not have served an + hour west of the Hindenburg Line; but in the East and here in America no + one had questioned it. In San Francisco they had scarcely glanced at it, + peace having come. Besides this passport the wallet contained a will, ten + bonds, a custom appraiser's receipt and a sheaf of gold bills. The will, + however, was perhaps one of the most astonishing documents conceivable. It + left unreservedly to Capt. John Hawksley the contents of the wallet! + </p> + <p> + Within three hours of his ultimate destination! He knew all about great + cities. An hour after he left the train, if he so willed, he could lose + himself for all time. + </p> + <p> + From the bottom of the kitbag he dug up a blue velours case, which after a + moment's hesitation he opened. Medals incrusted with precious stones; but + on the top was the photograph of a charming girl, blonde as ripe wheat, + and arrayed for the tennis court. It was this photograph he wanted. + Indifferently he tossed the case upon the centre table, and it upset, + sending the medals about with a ring and a tinkle. + </p> + <p> + The man in the next room heard this sound, and his eye roved desperately. + Some way to peer into yonder room! But there was no transom, and he would + not yet dare risk the fire escape. The young man raised the photograph to + his lips and kissed it passionately. + </p> + <p> + Then he hid it in the lining of his coat, there being a convenient rent in + the inside pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I must not think!” he murmured. “I must not!” + </p> + <p> + He became the hunted man again. He turned a chair upend and placed it + under the window. He tipped another in front of the door. On the threshold + of the bathroom door he deposited the water carafe and the glasses. His + bed was against the connecting door. No man would be able to enter + unannounced. He had no intention of letting himself fall asleep. He would + stretch out and rest. So he lit his pipe, banked the two pillows, switched + out the light, and lay down. Only the intermittent glow of his pipe coal + could be seen. Near the journey's end; and no more tight-rope walking, + with death at both ends, and death staring up from below. Queer how the + human being clung to life. What had he to live for? Nothing. So far as he + was concerned, the world had come to an end. Sporting instinct; probably + that was it; couldn't make up his mind to shuffle off this mortal coil + until he had beaten his enemies. English university education had dulled + the bite of his natural fatalism. To carry on for the sport of it; not to + accept fate but to fight it. + </p> + <p> + By chance his hand touched his spiky chin. Nevertheless, he would have to + enter New York just as he was. He had left his razor in a Pullman washroom + hurriedly one morning. He dared not risk a barber's chair, especially + these American chairs, that stretched one out in a most helpless manner. + </p> + <p> + Slowly his pipe sank toward his breast. The weary body was overcoming the + will. A sound broke the pleasant spell. He sat up, tense. Someone had + entered through the window and stumbled over the chair! Hawksley threw on + the light. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + When the day clerk arrived the night clerk sleepily informed him that the + guest in Room 214 was without baggage and had not paid in advance. + </p> + <p> + “Lave a call?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I thought I'd put you wise. I didn't notice that the man had no grip + until he was in the elevator.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll send the bell-hop captain up with a fake call to see if + the man's still there.” + </p> + <p> + When the captain—late of the A.E.F. in France—returned to the + office he was mildly excited. + </p> + <p> + “Gee, there's been a whale of a scrap in Room 212. The chambermaid let me + in.” + </p> + <p> + “Murder?” whispered the clerks in unison. + </p> + <p> + “Murder your granny! Naw! Just a fight between 212 and 214, because both + of 'em have flown the roost. But take a peek at what I found on the + table.” + </p> + <p> + It was a case of blue velours. The boy threw back the lid dramatically. + </p> + <p> + “War medals?” + </p> + <p> + “If they are I never piped 'em before. They ain't French or British.” The + captain of the bell-boys scratched his head ruminatively. “Gee, I got it! + Orders, that's what they all 'em. Kings pay 'em out Saturdays when the pay + roll is nix. Will you pipe the diamonds and rubies? There's your room + rents, monseer.” + </p> + <p> + The day clerk, who considered himself a judge, was of the opinion that + there were two or three thousand dollars tied up in the stones. It was a + police affair. Some ambassador had been robbed, and the Britisher and the + Greek or Bulgarian were mixed up in it. Loot. + </p> + <p> + “I thought the war was over,” said the night clerk. + </p> + <p> + “The shootin' is over, that's all,” said the captain of the bellboys, + sagely. + </p> + <p> + What had happened in Room 212? A duel of wits rather than of physical + contact. Hawksley realized instantly that here was the crucial moment. + Caught and overpowered, he was lost. If he shouted for help and it came, + he was lost. Once the police took a hand in the affair, the newspaper + publicity that would follow would result in the total ruin of all his + hopes. There was only one chance—to finish this affair outside the + hotel, in some fog-dimmed street. There leaped into his mind, obliquely + and queerly, a picture in one of Victor Hugo's tales—Quasimodo. And + there he stood, in every particular save the crooked back. And on the top + of this came the recollection that he had seen the man before.... The + torches! The red torches and the hobnailed boots! + </p> + <p> + There began an odd game, a dancing match, which the young man led + adroitly, always with his thought upon the open window. There would be no + shooting; Quasimodo would not want the police either. Half a dozen times + his fingers touched futilely the dancing master's coat. Back and forth + across the room, over the bed, round the stand and chairs. Persistently, + as if he understood the young man's manoeuvres, the squat individual kept + to the window side of the room. + </p> + <p> + An inspiration brought the affair to an end. Hawksley snatched up the + bedclothes and threw them as the ancient retiarius threw his net. He + managed to win to the lower platform of the fire escape before Quasimodo + emerged. + </p> + <p> + There was a fourteen-foot drop to the street, and the man with the golden + stubble on his chin and cheeks swung for a moment to gauge his landing. + Quasimodo came after with the agility of an ape. The race down the street + began with about a hundred yards in between. + </p> + <p> + Down the hill they went, like phantoms. The distance did not widen. Bears + will run amazingly fast and for a long while. The quarry cut into Pearl + Street for a block, turned a corner, and soon vaguely espied the Hudson + River. He made for this. + </p> + <p> + To the mind of Quasimodo this flight had but one significance—he was + dealing with an arrant coward; and he based his subsequent acts upon this + premise, forgetting that brave men run when need says must. It would have + surprised him exceedingly to learn that he was not driving, that he was + being led. Hawksley wanted his enemy alone, where no one would see to + interfere. Red torches and hobnailed boots! For once the two bloods, + always more or less at war, merged in a common purpose—to kill this + beast, to grind the face of him into pulp! Red torches and hobnailed + boots! + </p> + <p> + Presently one of the huge passenger boats, moored for the winter, loomed + up through the fog; and toward this Hawksley directed his steps. He made a + flying leap aboard and vanished round the deckhouse to the river side. + </p> + <p> + Quasimodo laughed as he followed. It was as if the tobacco pouch and the + appraiser's receipt were in his own pocket; and broad rivers made capital + graveyards. They two alone in the fog! He whirled round the deckhouse—and + backed on his heels to get his balance. Directly in front, in a very + understandable pose, was the intended victim, his jaw jutting, his eyelids + narrowed. + </p> + <p> + Quasimodo tried desperately to reach for his pistol; but a bolt of + lightning stopped the action. There is something peculiar about a blow on + the nose, a good blow. The Anglo-Saxon peoples alone possess the + counterattack—a rush. To other peoples concentration of thought is + impossible after the impact. Instinctively Quasimodo's hands flew to his + face. He heard a laugh, mirthless and terrible. Before he could drop his + hands from his face-blows, short and boring, from this side and from that, + over and under. The squat man was brave enough; simply he did not know how + to fight in this manner. He was accustomed to the use of steel and the + hobnails on his boots. He struck wildly, swinging his arms like a Flemish + mill in a brisk wind. + </p> + <p> + Some of his blows got home, but these provoked only sardonic laughter. + </p> + <p> + Wild with rage and pain he bored in. He had but one chance—to get + this shadow in his gorilla-like arms. He lacked mental flexibility. An + idea, getting into his head, stuck; it was not adjustable. Like an arrow + sped from the bowstring, it had to fulfill its destiny. It never occurred + to him to take to his heels, to get space between himself and this enemy + he had so woefully underestimated. Ten feet, and he might have been able + to whirl, draw his pistol, and end the affair. + </p> + <p> + The coup de grace came suddenly: a blow that caught Quasimodo full on the + point of the jaw. He sagged and went sprawling upon his face. The victor + turned him over and raised a heel.... No! He was neither Prussian nor + Sudanese black. He was white; and white men did not stamp in the faces of + fallen enemies. + </p> + <p> + But there was one thing a white man might do in such a case without + disturbing the ethical, and he proceeded about it forthwith: Draw the + devil's fangs; render him impotent for a few hours. He deliberately knelt + on one of the outspread arms and calmly emptied the insensible man's + pockets. He took everything—watch, money, passport, letters, pistol, + keys—rose and dropped them into the river. He overlooked Quasimodo's + belt, however. The Anglo-Saxon idea was top hole. His fists had saved his + life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Hawksley heard the panting of an engine and turned his head. Dimly he saw + a giant bridge and a long drab train moving across it. He picked up the + fallen man's cap and tried it on. Not a particularly good fit, but it + would serve. He then trotted round the deckhouse to the street side, + jumped to the wharf, and sucking the cracked knuckles of his right hand + fell into a steady dogtrot which carried him to the station he had left so + hopefully an hour and a half gone. + </p> + <p> + An accommodation train eventually deposited him in Poughkeepsie, where he + purchased a cap and a sturdy walking stick. The stubble on his chin and + cheeks began to irritate him intensely, but he could not rid himself of + the idea that a barber's chair would be inviting danger. He was now + tolerably certain that from one end of the continent to the other his + presence was known. His life and his property, they would be after both. + Even now there might be men in this strange town seeking him. The closer + he got to New York, the more active and wide-awake they would become. + </p> + <p> + He walked the streets, his glance constantly roving. But apparently no one + paid the least attention to him. Finally he returned to the railway + station; and at six o'clock that evening he left the platform of the 125th + Street Station, and appraised covertly the men who accompanied him to the + street. He felt assured that they were all Americans. Probably they were; + but there are still some stray fools of American birth who cannot accept + the great American doctrine as the only Ararat visible in this present + flood. Perhaps one of these accompanied Hawksley to the street. Whatever + he was, one had upon order met every south-going train since seven o'clock + that morning, when Quasimodo, paying from the gold hidden in his belt, had + sent forth the telegraphic alarm. The man hurried across the street and + followed Hawksley by matching his steps. His business was merely to learn + the other's destination and then to report. + </p> + <p> + Across the earth a tempest had been loosed; but Ariel did not ride it, + Caliban did. The scythe of terror was harvesting a type; and the innocent + were bending with the guilty. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Hawksley felt young, revivified, free. He had arrived. + Surmounting indescribable hazards and hardships he walked the pavement of + New York. In an hour the mutable quicksands of a great city would swallow + him forever. Free! He wanted to stroll about, peer into shop windows, + watch the amazing electric signs, dally; but he still had much to + accomplish. + </p> + <p> + He searched for a telephone sign. It was necessary that he find one + immediately. He had once spent six weeks in and about this marvellous + city, and he had a vague recollection of the blue-and-white enamel signs. + Shortly he found one. It was a pay station in the rear of a news and + tobacco shop. + </p> + <p> + He entered a booth, but discovered that he had no five-cent pieces in his + purse. He hurried out to the girl behind the cigar stand. She was + exhibiting a box of cigars to a customer, who selected three, paid for + them, and walked away. Hawksley, boiling with haste to have his affair + done, flung a silver coin toward the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Five-cent pieces!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you take them with you or shall I send them?” asked the girl, + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon!” + </p> + <p> + “Any particular kind of ribbon you want the box tied with?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” repeated Hawksley, harried and bewildered. “But I'm + in a hurry—” + </p> + <p> + “Too much of a hurry to leave out the bark when you ask a favour? I make + change out of courtesy. And you all bark at me Nickel! Nickel! as if that + was my job.” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand apologies!”—contritely. + </p> + <p> + “And don't make it any worse by suggesting a movie after supper. My mother + never lets me go out after dark.” + </p> + <p> + “I rather fancy she's quite sensible. Still, you seem able to take care of + yourself. I might suggest—” + </p> + <p> + “With that black eye? Nay, nay! I'll bet somebody's brother gave it to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Venus was not on that occasion in ascendancy. Thank you for the change.” + Hawksley swung on his heel and reentered the booth. + </p> + <p> + A great weariness oppressed him. A longing, almost irresistible, came to + him to go out and cry aloud: “Here I am! Kill me! I am tired and done!” + For he had recognized the purchaser of the cigars as one of the men who + had left the 125th Street Station at the same time as he. He remembered + distinctly that this man had been in a hurry. Perhaps the whole dizzy + affair was reacting upon his imagination psychologically and turning + harmless individuals into enemies. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” said a man's voice over the wire. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Rathbone there?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Rathbone is with his regiment at Coblenz, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Coblenz?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. I do not expect his return until near midsummer, sir. Who is + this talking?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you opened a cable from Yokohama?” + </p> + <p> + “This is Mr. Hawksley!” The voice became excited. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! You will come right away. I alone understand, sir. You will + remember me when you see me. I'm the captain's butler, sir—Jenkins. + He cabled back to give you the entire run of the house as long as you + desired it. He advised me to notify you that he had also prepared his + banker against your arrival. Have your luggage sent here at once, sir. + Dinner will be at your convenience.” + </p> + <p> + Hawksley's body relaxed. A lump came into his throat. Here was a friend, + anyhow, ready to serve him though he was thousands of miles away. + </p> + <p> + When he could trust himself to speak he said: “Sorry. It will be + impossible to accept the hospitality at present. I shall call in a few + days, however, to establish my identity. Thank you. Good evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Just a moment, sir. I may have an important cable to transmit to you. It + would be wise to leave me your address, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Hawksley hesitated a moment. After all, he could trust this perfect old + servant, whom he remembered. He gave the address. + </p> + <p> + As he came out of the booth the girl stretched forth an arm to detain him. + He stopped. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry I spoke like that,” she said. “But I'm so tired! I've been on + my feet all day, and everybody's been barking and growling; and if I'd + taken in as many nickels as I've passed out in change the boss would be + rich.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a dozen of those roses there.” She sold flowers also. “The pink + ones. How much?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Two-fifty.” + </p> + <p> + He laid down the money. “Never mind the box. They are for you. Good + evening.” + </p> + <p> + The girl stared at the flowers as Ali Baba must have stared at the cask + with rubies. + </p> + <p> + “For me!” she whispered. “For nothing!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes blurred. She never saw Hawksley again; but that was of no + importance. She had a gentle deed to put away in the lavender of + recollection. + </p> + <p> + Outside Hawksley could see nothing of the man who had bought the cigars. + At any rate, further dodging would be useless. He would go directly to his + destination. Old Gregor had sent him a duplicate key to the apartment. He + could hide there for a day or two; then visit Rathbone's banker at his + residence in the night to establish his identity. Gregor could be trusted + to carry the wallet and the pouch to the bank. Once these were walled in + steel half the battle would be over. He would have nothing to guard + thereafter but his life. He laughed brokenly. Nothing but the clothes he + stood in. He never could claim the belongings he had been forced to leave + in that hotel back yonder. But there was loyal old Gregor. Somebody would + be honestly glad to see him. The poor old chap! Astonishing, but of late + he was always thinking in English. + </p> + <p> + He hailed the first free taxicab he saw, climbed in, and was driven + downtown. He looked back constantly. Was he followed? There was no way of + telling. The street was alive with vehicles tearing north and south, with + frequent stoppage for the passage of those racing east and west. The + destination of Hawksley's cab was an old-fashioned apartment house in + Eightieth Street. + </p> + <p> + Gregor would have a meal ready; and it struck Hawksley forcibly that he + was hungry, that he had not touched food since the night before. Gregor, + valeting in a hotel, pressing coats and trousers and sewing on buttons! + Groggy old world, wasn't it? Gregor, pressing the trousers of the hoi + polloi! Gregor, who could have sent New York mad with that old + Stradivarius of his! But Gregor was wise. Safety for him lay in obscurity; + and what was more obscure than a hotel valet? + </p> + <p> + He did not seek the elevator but mounted the first flight of stairs. He + saw two doors, one on each side of the landing. He sought one, stooped and + peered at the card over the bell. Conover. Gregor's was opposite. Having a + key he did not knock but unlocked the door and stepped into the dark hall. + </p> + <p> + “Stefani Gregor?” he called, joyously. “Stefani, my old friend, it is I!” + </p> + <p> + Silence. But that was understandable. Either Gregor had not returned from + his labours or he was out gathering the essentials for the evening meal. + Judging from the variety of odours that swam the halls of this human + warren many suppers were in the process of making, and the top flavour was + garlic. He sniffed pleasurably. Not that the smell of garlic quickened his + hunger. It merely sent his thought galloping backward a score of years. He + saw Stefani Gregor and a small boy in mountain costume footing it sturdily + along the dizzy goat paths of the rugged hills; saw the two sitting on + some ruddy promontory and munching black bread rubbed with garlic. + Ambrosia! His mother's horror, when she smelt his breath—as if + garlic had not been one of her birthrights! His uncle, roaring out in his + bull's voice that black bread and garlic were good for little boys' + stomachs, and made the stuff of soldiers. Black bread and garlic and the + Golden Age! + </p> + <p> + After he had flooded the hall with light he began a tour of inspection. + The rooms were rather bare but clean and orderly. Here and there were + items that kept the homeland green in the recollection. He came to the + bedroom last. He hesitated for a moment before opening the door. The + lights told him why Gregor had not greeted his entering hail. + </p> + <p> + The overturned reading lamp, the broken chair, the letters and papers + strewn about the floor, the rifled bureau drawers—these things spoke + plainly enough. Gregor was a prisoner somewhere in this vast city; or he + was dead. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley stood motionless for a space. And he must remain here at least + for a night and a day! He would not dare risk another hotel. He could, of + course, go to the splendid Rathbone place; but it would not be fair to + invite tragedy across that threshold. + </p> + <p> + A ball of crushed paper at his feet attracted his attention. He kicked it + absently, followed and picked it up, his thought on other things. He was + aimlessly smoothing it out when an English word caught his eye. English! + He smoothed the crumpled sheet and read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If you find this it is the will of God. I have been watched + for several days, and am now convinced that they have always + known I was here but were leaving me alone for some unknown + purpose. I roll this ball because anything folded and left + in a conspicuous place would be useless should they come for + me. I understand. It is you, poor boy. They are watching + me in hopes of catching you, and I've no way to warn you not + to come here. It was after I sent you the key that I learned + the truth. God bless you and guard you! + STEFANI. +</pre> + <p> + Hawksley tore the note into scraps. Food and sleep. He walked toward the + kitchen, musing. What an odd mixture he was! Superficially British, with + the British outlook; and yet filled with the dancing blood of the Latin + and the cold, phlegmatic blood of the Slav. He was like a schoolmaster + with two students too big for him to handle. Always the Latin was + dispossessing the Slav or the Slav was ousting the Latin. With fatalistic + confidence that nevermore would he look upon the kindly face of Stefani + Gregor, alive, he went in search of food. + </p> + <p> + Not a crust did he find. In the ice-chest there was a bottle of milk—soured. + Hungry; and not a crumb! And he dared not go out in search of food. No one + had observed his entrance to the apartment, but it was improbable that + such luck would attend him a second time. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the bedroom. He did not turn on the light because a novel + idea had blossomed unexpectedly—a Latin idea. There might be food on + some window ledge. He would leave payment. He proceeded to the window, + throwing up both it and the curtain, and looked out. Ripping! There was a + fire escape. + </p> + <p> + As he slipped a leg over the sill a golden square sprang into existence + across the way. Immediately he forgot his foraging instincts. In a moment + he was all Latin, always susceptible to the enchantment of beauty. + </p> + <p> + The distance across the court was less than forty feet. He could see the + girl quite plainly as she set about the preparation of her evening meal. + He forgot his danger, his hunger, his code of ethics, which did not permit + him to gaze at a young woman through a window. + </p> + <p> + Alone. He was alone and she was alone. A novel idea popped into his head. + He chuckled; and the sound of that chuckle in his ears somehow brought + back his resolve to carry on, to pass out, if so he must, fighting. He + would knock on yonder window and ask the beautiful lady slavey for a bit + of her supper! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Kitty Conover had inherited brains and beauty, and nothing else but the + furniture. Her father had been a famous reporter, the admiration of cubs + from New York to San Francisco; handsome, happy-go-lucky, generous, rather + improvident, and wholly lovable. Her mother had been a comedy actress + noted for her beauty and wit and extravagance. Thus it will be seen that + Kitty was in luck to inherit any furniture at all. + </p> + <p> + Kitty was twenty-four. A body is as old as it is, but a brain is as old as + the facts it absorbs; and Kitty had absorbed enough facts to carry her + brain well into the thirties. + </p> + <p> + Conover had been dead twenty years; and Kitty had scarcely any + recollections of him. Improvident as the run of newspaper writers are, + Conover had fulfilled one obligation to his family—he had kept up + his endowment policies; and for eighteen years the insurance had taken + care of Kitty and her mother, who because of a weak ankle had not been + able to return to the scenes of her former triumphs. In 1915 this darling + mother, whom Kitty loved to idolatry, had passed on. + </p> + <p> + There was enough for the funeral and the cleaning up of the bills; but + that was all. The income ceased with Mrs. Conover's demise. Kitty saw that + she must give up writing short stories which nobody wanted, and go to + work. So she proceeded at once to the newspaper office where her father's + name was still a tradition, and applied for a job. It was frankly a + charity job, but Kitty was never to know that because she fell into the + newspaper game naturally; and when they discovered her wide acquaintance + among theatrical celebrities they switched her into the dramatic + department, where she had astonishing success as a raconteur. She was now + assistant dramatic editor of the Sunday issue, and her pay envelope had + four crisp ten-dollar notes in it each Monday. + </p> + <p> + She still remained in the old apartment; sentiment as much as anything. + She had been born in it and her happiest days had been spent there. She + lived alone, without help, being one of that singular type of womanhood + that is impervious to the rust of loneliness. Her daily activities + sufficed the gregarious instincts, and it was often a relief to move about + in silence. + </p> + <p> + Among other things Kitty had foresight. She had learned that a little + money in the background was the most satisfying thing in existence. So + many times she and her mother had just reached the insurance check, with + grumbling bill collectors in the hall, that she was determined never to be + poor. She had to fight constantly her love of finery inherited from her + mother, and her love of good times inherited from her father. So she + established a bank account, and to date had not drawn a check against it; + which speaks well for her will power, an attribute cultivated, not + inherited. + </p> + <p> + Kitty was as pleasing to the eye as a basket of fruit. Her beauty was + animated. There was an expression in her eyes and on her lips that spoke + of laughter always on tiptoe. An enviable inheritance, this, the desire to + laugh, to be searching always for a vent to laughter; it is something + money cannot buy, something not to be cultivated; a true gift of the gods. + This desire to laugh is found invariably in the tender and valorous; and + Kitty was both. Brown hair with running threads of gold that was always + catching light; slate-blue eyes with heavy black fringe-Irish; colour that + waxed and waned; and a healthy, shapely body. Topped by a sparkling + intellect these gifts made Kitty desirable of men. + </p> + <p> + Kitty had no beau. After the adolescent days beaux ceased to interest her. + This would indicate that she was inclined toward suffrage. Nothing of the + kind. Intensely romantic, she determined to await the grand passion or go + it alone. No experimental adventures for her. Be assured that she weighed + every new man she met, and finding some flaw discarded him as a + matrimonial possibility. Besides, her unusual facilities to view and judge + men had shown her masculine phases the average woman would have discovered + only after the fatal knot was tied. She did not suspect that she was + romantical. She attributed her wariness to common sense. + </p> + <p> + If there is one place where a pretty young woman may labour without having + to build a wall of liquid air about her to fend off amatory advances that + place is the editorial room of a great metropolitan daily. One must have + leisure to fall in love; and only the office boys could assemble enough + idle time to call it leisure. + </p> + <p> + Her desk faced Burlingame's; and Burlingame was the dramatic editor, a + scholar and a gentleman. He liked to hear Kitty talk, and often he lured + her into the open; and he gathered information about theatrical folks that + was outside even his wide range of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + A drizzly fog had hung over New York since morning. Kitty was finishing up + some Sunday special. Burlingame was reading proofs. All day theatrical + folks had been in and out of this little ten-by-twelve cubby-hole; and now + there would be quiet. + </p> + <p> + But no. The door opened and an iron-gray head intruded. + </p> + <p> + “Will I be in the way?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, no!” cried Burlingame, throwing down his proofs. “Come along in, + Cutty.” + </p> + <p> + The great war correspondent came in and sat down, sighing gratefully. + </p> + <p> + Cutty was a nickname; he carried and smoked—everywhere they would + permit him—the worst-looking and the worst-smelling pipe in + Christendom. You may not realize it, but a nickname is a round-about + Anglo-Saxon way of telling a fellow you love him. He was Cutty, but only + among his dear intimates, mind you; to the world at large, to presidents, + kings, ambassadors, generals, and capitalists he is known by another name. + You will find it on the roster of the Royal Geographical; on the title + page of several unique books on travel, jewels, and drums; in magazines + and newspapers; on the membership roll of the Savage in London and the + Lambs in New York. But you will not find it in this story; because it + would not be fair to set his name against the unusual adventures that + crossed his line of life with that of the young man who wore the tobacco + pouch suspended from his neck. + </p> + <p> + Tall, bony, graceful enough except in a chair, where his angles became + conspicuous; the ruddy, weather-bitten complexion of a deep-sea sailor, + and a sailor man's blue eye; the brow of a thinker and the mouth of a + humourist. Men often call another man handsome when a woman knows they + mean manly. Among men Cutty was handsome. + </p> + <p> + Kitty considerately rose and gathered up her manuscript. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Kitty! I'd rather talk to you than Burly, here. You're always + reminding me of that father of yours. Best comrade I ever had. You laugh + just like him. Did your mother ever tell you that old Cutty is your + godfather?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” + </p> + <p> + “Fact. I told your dad I'd watch over you.” + </p> + <p> + “And a fat lot of watching you've done to date,” jeered Burlingame. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't help that. But I can be on the job until I return to the + Balkans.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed joyously and sat down, perhaps a little thrilled. She had + always admired Cutty from afar, shyly. Once in a blue moon he had in the + old days appeared for tea; and he and Mrs. Conover would spend the balance + of the afternoon discussing the lovable qualities of Tommy Conover. Kitty + had seen him but twice during the war. + </p> + <p> + “Every so often,” began Cutty, “I have to find listeners. Fact. I used to + hate crowds, listeners; but those ten days in an open boat, a thousand + miles from anywhere, made me gregarious. I'm always wanting company and + hating to go to bed, which is bad business for a man of fifty-two.” + Cutty's ship had been torpedoed. + </p> + <p> + To Kitty, with his tired eyes and weather-bitten face, his bony, gangling + body, he had the appearance of a lazy man. Actually she knew him to be a + man of tremendous vitality and endurance. Eagles when they roost are + heavy-lidded and clumsy. She wondered if there was a corner on the globe + he had not peered into. + </p> + <p> + For thirty years he had been following two gods—Rumour and War. For + thirty years he had been the slave of cables and telegrams. Even now he + was preparing to return to the Balkans, where the great fire had started + and where there were still some threatening embers to watch. + </p> + <p> + Cutty was not well known in America; his reputation was European. He + played the game because he loved it, being comfortably fortified with + worldly goods. He was a linguist of rare attainments, specializing in the + polyglot of southeastern Europe. He came and went like cloud shadow. His + foresight was so keen he was seldom ordered to go here or there; he was + generally on the spot when the orders arrived. + </p> + <p> + He was interested in socialism and its bewildering ramifications, but only + as an analytical student. He could fit himself into any environment, + interview a prime minister in the afternoon and take potluck that night + with the anarchist who was planning to blow up the prime minister. + </p> + <p> + Burlingame, an intimate, often exposed for Kitty's delectation the amazing + and colourful facets of Cutty's diamond-brilliant mind. Cutty wrote + authoritatively on famous gems and collected drums. He had one of the + finest collections of chrysoprase in the world. He loved these + semi-precious stones because of their unmatchable, translucent green—like + the pulp of a grape. From Burlingame Kitty had learned that Cutty, rather + indifferent to women, carried about with him the photographs—large + size—of famous professional beauties and a case filled with polished + chrysoprase. He would lay a photograph on a table and adorn the lovely + throat with astonishing necklaces and the head with wonderful tiaras, all + the while his brain at work with some intricate political puzzle. + </p> + <p> + And he collected drums. The walls of his apartment—part of the loft + of a midtown office building—were covered with a most startling + assortment of drums: drums of war, of the dance, of the temples of the + feast, ancient and modern, some of them dreadful looking objects, as Kitty + had cause to remember. + </p> + <p> + Though Cutty had known her father and mother intimately, Kitty was a + comparative stranger. He recollected seeing her perhaps a dozen times. She + had been a shy child, not given to climbing over visitors' knees; not the + precocious offspring of the average theatrical mother. So in the past he + had somewhat overlooked her. Then one day recently he had dropped in to + see Burlingame and had seen Kitty instead; which accounts for his presence + here this day. Neither Kitty nor Burlingame suspected the true attraction. + The dramatic editor accepted the advent as a peculiar compliment to + himself. And it is to be doubted if Cutty himself realized that there was + a true magnetic pole in this cubbyhole of a room. + </p> + <p> + Kitty, however, had vivid recollections. Actually the first strange man + she had ever met. But not having been visible on her horizon, except in + flashes, she knew of the man only what she had read and what Burlingame + had casually offered during discussions. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyhow,” said Burlingame, complacently, “the war is over.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty smiled indulgently. “That's the trouble with us chaps who tramp + round the world for news. We can't bamboozle ourselves like you folks who + stay at home. The war was only the first phase. There's a mess over there; + wanting something and not knowing exactly what, those millions; milling + cattle, with neither shed nor pasture. The Lord only knows how long it + will take to clarify. Would you mind if I smoked?” + </p> + <p> + “Wow!” cried Burlingame. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” answered Kitty. “I don't see how any pipe could be worse + than Mr. Burlingame's.” + </p> + <p> + “I apologize,” said the dramatic editor, humbly. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't,” replied the girl. She turned to the war correspondent. “Any + new drums?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember that day. You were scared half to death at my walls.” + </p> + <p> + “Small wonder! I was only twelve; and I dreamed of cannibals for weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Drums! I wonder if any living man has heard a greater variety than I? + What a lot of them! I have heard them calling a jehad in the Sudan. + Tumpi-tum-tump! tumpitum-tump! Makes a white man's hair stand up when he + hears it in the night. I don't know what it is, but the sound drives the + Oriental mad. And that reminds me—I've had them in mind all day—the + drums of jeopardy!” + </p> + <p> + “What an odd phrase! And what are the drums of jeopardy?” asked Kitty, + leaning on her arms. Odd, but suddenly she felt a longing to go somewhere, + thousands and thousands of miles away. She had never been west of Chicago + or east of Boston. Until this moment she had never felt the call of the + blood—her father's. Cocoanut palms and birds of paradise! And drums + in the night going tumpi-tum-tump! tumpi-tum-tump! + </p> + <p> + “I've always been mad over green things,” began Cutty. “A wheat field in + the spring, leafing maples. It's Nature's choice and mine. My passion is + emeralds; and I haven't any because those I want are beyond reach. They + are owned by the great houses of Europe and Asia, and lie in royal + caskets; or did. If I could go into a mine and find an emerald as big as + my fist I should be only partly happy if it chanced to be of fine colour. + In a little while I should lose interest in it. It wouldn't be alive, if + you can get what I mean. Just as a man would rather have a homely woman to + talk to than a beautiful window dummy to admire. A stone to interest me + must have a story—a story of murder and loot, of beautiful women, + palaces. + </p> + <p> + “Br-r-r!” cried Burlingame. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I've seen emeralds I would steal with half a chance. I couldn't help + it. Fact,” declared Cutty, earnestly. “Think of the loot in the Romanoff + palaces! What's become of all those magnificent stones? In a little while + they'll be turning up in Amsterdam to be cut—some of them. Or maybe + Mister Bolsheviki's inamorata will be stringing them round her neck. + Loot.” + </p> + <p> + “But the drums of jeopardy!” said Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Emeralds, green as an English lawn in May after a shower, Kitty. By the + way, do you mind if I call you Kitty? I used to.” + </p> + <p> + “And I've always thought of you as Cutty. Fifty-fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a bargain. Well, the drums to my thinking are the finest two + examples of the green beryl in the world. Polished, of course, as emeralds + always should be. I should say that they were about the size of those + peppermint chocolate drops there.” + </p> + <p> + “Have one?” said Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “No. Spoil the taste of the pipe.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to spoil that taste once in a while,” was Burlingame's + observation. “But go on.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose originally there was a single stone, later cut into halves, + because they are perfect matches. The drums proper are exquisitely carved + ivory statuettes, of Hindu or Mohammedan drummers, squatting, the golden + base of the drums between the knees, and the drumheads the emeralds. Lord, + how they got to me! I wanted to run off with them. The history of murder + and loot they could tell! Some Delhi mogul owned them first. Then Nadir + Shah carried them off to Persia, along with the famous peacock throne. I + saw them in a palace on the Caspian in 1912. Russia was very strong in + Persia at one time. Perhaps they were gifts; perhaps they were stolen—these + emeralds. Anyhow, I'd never heard of them until that year. And I travelled + all the way up from Constantinople to get a glimpse of them if it were + possible. I had to do some mighty fine wire-pulling. For one of those + stones I would give half of all I own. To see them in the possession of + another man would be a supreme test to my honesty.” + </p> + <p> + “You old pirate!” said Burlingame. + </p> + <p> + “But why the word jeopardy?” persisted Kitty, who was intrigued by the + phrase. + </p> + <p> + “Probably some Hindu trick. It is a language of flowery metaphors. It + means, I suppose, that when you touch the drums they bite. In journeying + from one spot to another they always leave misfortune behind, as I + understand it. Just coincidence; but you couldn't drive that into an + Oriental skull. This is what makes the study of precious stones so + interesting. There is always some enchantment, some evil spell. To handle + the drums is to invite a minor accident. Call it twaddle; probably is; and + yet I have reason to believe that there's something to the superstition.” + </p> + <p> + Burlingame sniffed. + </p> + <p> + “I can prove it,” Cutty declared. “I held those drums in my hands one day. + I carried them to a window the better to observe them. On my return to the + hotel I was knocked down by a horse and laid up in bed for a week. That + same night someone tried to kill the man who showed me the emeralds. + Coincidence? Perhaps. But these days I'm shying at thirteen, the wrong + side of the street, ladders, and religious curses.” + </p> + <p> + “An old hard-boiled egg like you?” Burlingame threw up his hands in mock + despair. + </p> + <p> + “I laugh, too; but I duck, nevertheless. The chap who showed me the stones + was what you'd call the honorary custodian; a privileged character because + of his genius. Before approaching him I sent him a copy of my monograph on + green stones. I found that he was quite as crazy over green as I. That + brought us together; and while I drew him out I kept wondering where I had + seen him before. Both his name and his face were vaguely familiar. It + seems a superstition had come along with the stones, from India to Persia, + from there to Russia. A maid fortunate enough to see the drums would marry + and be happy. The old fellow confessed that occasionally he secretly + admitted a peasant maid to gaze upon the stones. But he never let the male + inmates of the palace find this out. He knew them a little too intimately. + A bad lot.” + </p> + <p> + “And this palace?” asked Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Not one stone on another. The proletariat rose up and destroyed it. To + mobs anything beautiful is offensive. Palaces looted, banks, museums, + houses. The ignorant toying with hand grenades, thinking them sceptres. + All the scum in the world boiling to the top. After the Red Day comes the + Red Night.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever will become of them—the little kings and princes and + dukes?” After all, thought Kitty, they were human beings; they would not + suffer any the less because they had been born to the purple. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe they'll go to work,” said Cutty, dryly. “Sooner or later, all + parasites will have to work if they want bread. And yet I've met some men + among them, big in the heart and the mind, who would have made bully + farmers and professors. The beautiful thing about the Anglo-Saxon + education is that the whole structure is based upon fair play. In eastern + and southeastern Europe few of them can play solitaire without cheating. + But I would give a good deal to know what has happened to those emeralds—the + drums of jeopardy. They'll probably be broken up and sold in carat + weights. The whole family was wiped out in a night.... I say, will you + take lunch with me to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Gladly.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll drop in here at half after twelve. Here's my telephone + number, should anything alter your plans. If I'm going to be godfather I + might as well start right in.” + </p> + <p> + “The drums of jeopardy; what a haunting phrase!” + </p> + <p> + “Haunting stones, too, Kitty. For picking them up in my hands I went to + bed with a banged-up leg. I can't forget that. We Occidentals laugh at + Orientals and their superstitions. We don't believe in the curse. And yet, + by George, those emeralds were accursed!” + </p> + <p> + “Piffle!” snorted Burlingame. “Mush! It's greed, pure and simple, that + gives precious stones their sinister histories. You'd have been hit by + that horse if you had picked up nothing more valuable than a rhinestone + buckle. Take away the gold lure, and precious stones wouldn't sell at the + price of window glass.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so? How about me? It isn't because a stone is worth so much that + makes me want it. I want it for the sheer beauty; I want it for the + tremendous panorama the sight of it unfolds in my mind. I imagine what + happened from the hour the stone was mined to the hour it came into my + possession. To me—to all genuine collectors—the intrinsic + value is nil. Can't you see? It is for me what Balzac's La Peau de Chagrin + would be to you if you had fallen on it for the first time—money, + love, tragedy, death.” + </p> + <p> + An interruption came in the form of one of the office boys. The chief was + on the wire and wanted Cutty at once. + </p> + <p> + “At half after twelve, Kitty. And by the way,” added Cutty as he rose, + “they say about the drums that a beautiful woman is immune to their + danger.” + </p> + <p> + “There's your chance, Kitty,” said Burlingame. + </p> + <p> + “Am I beautiful?” asked Kitty, demurely. + </p> + <p> + “Lord love the minx!” shouted Cutty. “A corner in Mouquin's.” + </p> + <p> + “Rain or shine.” After Cutty had departed Kitty said: “He's the most + fascinating man I know. What fun it would be to jog round the world with a + man like that, who knew everybody and everything. As a little girl I was + violently in love with him; but don't you ever dare give me away.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll probably have nightmare to-night. And honestly you ought not to + live in that den alone. But Cutty has seen things,” Burlingame admitted; + “things no white man ought to see. He's been shot up, mauled by animals, + marooned, torpedoed at sea, made prisoner by old Fuzzy-Wuzzy. An ordinary + man would have died of fatigue. Cutty is as tough and strong as a gorilla + and as active as a cat. But this jewel superstition is all rot. Odd, + though; he'll travel halfway round the world to see a ruby or an emerald. + He says no true collector cares a cent for a diamond. Says they are + vulgar.” + </p> + <p> + “Except on the third finger of a lady's left hand; and then they are just + perfectly splendid!” + </p> + <p> + “Oho! Well, when you get yours I hope it's as big as the Koh-i-noor.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you! You might just as well wish a brick on me!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty left the office at a quarter of six. The phrase kept running through + her head—the drums of jeopardy. A little shiver ran up her spine. + Money, love, tragedy, death! This terrible and wonderful old world, of + which she had seen little else than city streets, suddenly exhibited wide + vistas. She knew now why she had begun to save—travel. Just as soon + as she had a thousand she would go somewhere. A great longing to hear + native drums in the night. + </p> + <p> + Even as the wish entered her mind a new sound entered her ears. The Subway + car wheels began to beat—tumpitum-tump! tumpitum-tump! Fudge! She + opened her evening paper and scanned the fashions, the dramatic news, and + the comics. Being a woman she read the world news last. On the front page + she saw a queer story, dated at Albany: Mysterious guests at a hotel; how + they had fought and fled in the early morning. There had been left behind + a case with foreign orders incrusted with several thousand dollars' worth + of gems. Bolsheviki, said the police; just as they said auto bandits a few + years ago when confronted with something they could not understand. The + orders had been turned over to the Federal authorities from whom it was + learned that they were all royal and demi-royal. Neither of the two guests + had returned up to noon, and one had fled, leaving even his hat and coat. + But there was nothing to indicate his identity. + </p> + <p> + “Loot!” murmured Kitty. “All the scum in the world rising to the top”—quoting + Cutty. “Poor things!” as she thought of the gentle ladies who had died + horribly in bedrooms and cellars. + </p> + <p> + Kitty was beginning to cast about for more congenial quarters. There were + too many foreigners in the apartments, and none of them especially good + housekeepers. Always, nowadays, somebody had a washing out on the line, + the odour of garlic was continuously in the air, and there were noisy + children under foot in the halls. The families she and her mother had + known were all gone; and Kitty was perhaps the oldest inhabitant in the + block. + </p> + <p> + The living-room windows faced Eightieth Street; bedrooms, dining room, and + kitchen looked out upon the court. From the latter windows one could step + out upon the fire-escape platform, which ran round the three sides of the + court. + </p> + <p> + Among the present tenants she knew but one, an old man by the name of + Gregory, who lived opposite. The acquaintance had never ripened into + friendship; but sometimes Kitty would borrow an egg and he would borrow + some sugar. In the summertime, when the windows were open at night, she + had frequently heard the music of a violin swimming across the court. + Polish, Russian, and Hungarian music, always speaking with a tragic note; + nothing she had ever heard in concerts. Once, however, she had heard him + begin something from Thais, and stop in the middle of it; and that + convinced her that he was a master. She was fond of good music. One day + she asked Gregory why he did not teach music instead of valeting at a + hotel. His answer had been illuminative. It was only his body that pressed + clothes; but it would have torn his soul to listen daily to the agonized + bow of the novice. Kitty was lonely through pride as much as anything. As + for friends, she had a regiment of them. But she rarely accepted their + hospitality, realizing that she could not return it. No young men called + because she never invited them. All this, however, was going to change + when she moved. + </p> + <p> + As she turned on the hail light she saw an envelope on the floor. + Evidently it had been shoved under the door. It was unstamped. She opened + it, and stepped out of the humdrum into the whirligig. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MISS CONOVER: + If anything should happen to me all the things in my apartment + I give to you without reservation. + STEPHEN GREGORY. +</pre> + <p> + She read the letter a dozen times to make sure that it meant exactly what + it said. He might be ill. After she had cooked her supper she would run + round and inquire. The poor lonely old man! + </p> + <p> + She went into the kitchen and took inventory. There was nothing but bacon + and eggs and coffee. She had forgotten to order that morning. She lit the + gas range and began to prepare the meal. As she broke an egg against the + rim of the pan the nearby Elevated train rushed by, drumming + tumpitum-tump! tumpitum-tump! She laughed, but it wasn't honest laughter. + She laughed because she was conscious that she was afraid of something. + Impulse drove her to the window. Contact with men—her unusual + experiences as a reporter—had developed her natural fearlessness to + a point where it was aggressive. As she pressed the tip of her nose + against the pane, however, she found herself gazing squarely into a pair + of exceedingly brilliant dark eyes; and all the blood in her body seemed + to rush violently into her throat. + </p> + <p> + Tableau! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Kitty gasped, but she did not cry out. The five days' growth of blondish + stubble, the discoloured eye—for all the orb itself was brilliant—and + the hawky nose combined to send through her the first great thrill of + danger she had ever known. + </p> + <p> + Slowly she backed away from the window. The man outside immediately + extended his hands with a gesture that a child would have understood. + Supplication. Kitty paused, naturally. But did the man mean it? Might it + not be some trick to lure her into opening the window? And what was he + doing outside there anyhow? Her mind, freed from the initial hypnosis of + the encounter, began to work quickly. If she ran from the kitchen to call + for help he might be gone when she returned, only to come back when she + was again alone. + </p> + <p> + Once more the man executed that gesture, his palms upward. It was Latin; + she was aware of that, for she was always encountering it in the halls. + Another gesture. She understood this also. The tips of the fingers bunched + and dabbed at the lips. She had seen Italian children make the gesture and + cry: “Ho fame!” Hungry. But she could not let him into the kitchen. Still, + if he were honestly hungry—She had it! + </p> + <p> + In the kitchen-table drawer was an imitation revolver—press the + trigger, and a fluted fan was revealed—a dance favour she had + received during the winter. + </p> + <p> + She plucked it out of the drawer and walked bravely to the window, which + she threw up. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want? What are you doing out there on the fire escape?” she + instantly demanded to know. + </p> + <p> + “My word, I am hungry! I was looking out of the window across the way and + saw you preparing your dinner. A bit of bread and a glass of milk. Would + you mind, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you come to the door then? What window?” Kitty was resolute; + once she embarked upon an enterprise. + </p> + <p> + “That one.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mr. Gregory?” Kitty recalled that odd letter. + </p> + <p> + “Gregory? I should very much like to know. I have come many miles to see + him. He sent me a duplicate key. There was not even a crust in the + cupboard.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory away? That letter! Something had happened to that poor, kindly old + man. “Why did you not seek some restaurant? Or have you no money?” + </p> + <p> + “I have plenty. I was afraid that I might not be able conveniently to + return. I am a stranger. My actions might be viewed with suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Describe Mr. Gregory.” + </p> + <p> + Not of the clinging kind, evidently, he thought. A raving beauty—Diana + domesticated! + </p> + <p> + “It is four years since I saw him. He was then gray, dapper, and erect. A + mole on his chin, which he rubs when he talks. He is a valet in one of the + fashionable hotels. He is—or was—the only true friend I have + in New York.” + </p> + <p> + “Was? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid something has happened to him. I found his bedroom things + tossed about.” + </p> + <p> + “What could possibly happen to a harmless old man like Mr. Gregory?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, but your egg is burning!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty wheeled and lifted off the pan, choking in the smother of smoke. She + came right-about face swiftly enough. The man had not moved; and that + decided her. + </p> + <p> + “Come in. I will give you something to eat. Sit in that chair by the + window, and be careful not to stir from it. I'm a good shot,” lied Kitty, + truculently. “Frankly, I do not like the looks of this.” + </p> + <p> + “I do look like a burglar, what?” He sat down in the chair meekly. Food + and a human being to talk to! A lovely, self-reliant American girl, able + to take care of herself. Magnificent eyes—slate blue, with thick, + velvety black lashes. Irish. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Kitty had three eggs and half a dozen strips of bacon frying + in a fresh pan. She kept one eye upon the pan and the other upon the + intruder, risking strabismus. At length she transferred the contents of + the pan to a plate, backed to the ice chest, and reached for a bottle of + milk. She placed the food at the far end of the table and retreated a few + steps, her arms crossed in such a way as to keep the revolver in view. + </p> + <p> + “Please do not be afraid of me. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think I am?” + </p> + <p> + “Any woman would be.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty saw that he was actually hungry, and her suspicions began to ebb. He + hadn't lied about that. And he ate like a gentleman. Young, not more than + thirty; possibly less. But that dreadful stubble and that black eye! The + clothes would have passed muster on any fashionable golf links. A + fugitive? From what? + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said, setting down the empty milk bottle. + </p> + <p> + “Your accent is English.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is to say?” + </p> + <p> + “That your gestures are Italian.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother was Italian. But what makes you believe I am not English?” + </p> + <p> + “An Englishman—or an American, for that matter—with money in + his pocket would have gone into the street in search of a restaurant.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. The fundamentals of the blood will always crop out. You + can educate the brain but not the blood. I am not an Englishman; I merely + received my education at Oxford.” + </p> + <p> + “A fugitive, however, of any blood might have come to my window.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I am a fugitive, pursued by the god of Irony. And Irony is never + particular; the chase is the thing. What matters it whether the quarry be + wolf or sheep?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty was impressed by the bitterness of the tone. “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “John Hawksley.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is English!” + </p> + <p> + “I should not care to call myself Two-Hawks, literally. It would be + embarrassing. So I call myself Hawksley.” + </p> + <p> + A pause. Kitty wondered what new impetus she might give to the + conversation, which was interesting her despite her distrust. + </p> + <p> + “How did you come by that black eye?” she asked with embarrassing + directness. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley smiled, revealing beautifully white teeth. “I say, it is a bit + off, isn't it! I received it”—a twinkle coming into his eyes—“in + a situation that had moribund perspectives.” + </p> + <p> + “Moribund perspectives,” repeated Kitty, casting the phrase about in her + mind in search of an equivalent less academic. + </p> + <p> + “I am young and healthy, and I wanted to live,” he said, gravely. “I am + curious to know what is going to happen to-morrow and other to-morrows.” + </p> + <p> + Somewhere near by a door was slammed violently. Kitty, every muscle in her + body tense, jumped convulsively, with the result that her finger pressed + automatically the trigger of her pistol. The fan popped out gayly. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley stared at the fan, quite as astonished as Kitty. Then he broke + into low, rollicking laughter, which Kitty, because her basic corpuscle + was Irish, perforce had to join. For all her laughter she retreated, + furious and alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy! I say, now, you're jolly plucky to face a scoundrel like me with + that.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't just know what to make of you,” said Kitty, irresolutely, + flinging the fan into a corner. + </p> + <p> + “You have revivified a celestial spark—my faith in human beings. I + beg of you not to be afraid of me. I am quite harmless. I am very grateful + for the meal. Yours is the one act of kindness I have known in weeks. I + will return to Gregor's apartment at once. But before I go please accept + this. I rather suspect, you know, that you live alone, and that fan is + amusing and not particularly suitable.” He rose and unsmilingly laid upon + the table one of those heavy blue-black bull-dogs of war, a regulation + revolver. Kitty understood what this courteous act signified; he was + disarming himself to reassure her. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” she ordered. Either he was harmless or he wasn't. If he wasn't + she was utterly at his mercy. She might be able to lift that + terrible-looking engine of murder, battle, and sudden death with the aid + of both hands, but to aim and fire it—never in this world! “As I + came in to-night I found a note in the hall from Mr. Gregory. I will fetch + it. But you call him Gregor?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Stefani Gregor; and years and years ago he dandled me on his + knees. I promise not to move until you return.” + </p> + <p> + Subdued by she knew not what, no longer afraid, Kitty moved out of the + kitchen. She had offered Gregory's letter as an excuse to reach the + telephone. Once there, however, she did not take the receiver off the + hook. Instead she whistled down the tube for the janitor. + </p> + <p> + “This is Miss Conover. Come up to my apartment in ten minutes.... No; it's + not the water pipes.... In ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing very serious could happen inside of ten minutes; and the janitor + was reliable and not the sort one reads about in the comic weeklies. Her + confidence reenforced by the knowledge that a friend was near, she took + the letter into the kitchen. Apparently her unwelcome guest had not + stirred. The revolver was where he had laid it. + </p> + <p> + “Read this,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The visitor glanced through it. “It is Gregor's hand. Poor old chap! I + shall never forgive my self.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “For dragging him into this. They must have intercepted one of my + telegrams.” He stared dejectedly at the strip of oilcloth in front of the + range. “You are an American?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “God has been exceedingly kind to your country. I doubt if you will ever + know how kind. I'll take myself off. No sense in compromising you.” He + laid a folded handkerchief inside his cap which he put on. “Know anything + about this?”—indicating the revolver. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to show you. It is loaded; there are five bullets in the clip. + See this little latch? So, it is harmless. So, and you kill with it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is horrible!” cried Kitty. “Take it with you please. I could not keep + my eyes open to shoot it.” + </p> + <p> + “These are troublous times. All women should know something about small + arms. Again I thank you. For your own sake I trust that we may never meet + again. Good-bye.” He stepped out of the window and vanished. + </p> + <p> + Kitty, at a mental impasse, could only stare into the night beyond the + window. This mesmeric state endured for a minute; then a gentle and + continuous sound dissipated the spell. It was raining. Obliquely she saw + the burnt egg in the pan. The thing had happened; she had not been + dreaming. + </p> + <p> + Her brain awoke. Thought crowded thought; before one matured another + displaced it; and all as futile as the sparks from the anvil. An avalanche + of conjecture; and out of it all eventually emerged one concrete fact. The + man Was honest. His hunger had been honest; his laughter. Who was he, what + was he? For all his speech, not English; for all his gestures, not + Italian. Moribund perspectives. Somewhere that day he had fought for his + life. John Two-Hawks. + </p> + <p> + And there was the mysterious evanishment of old Gregory, whose name was + Stefani Gregor. In a humdrum, prosaic old apartment like this! + </p> + <p> + Kitty had ideas about adventure—an inheritance, though she was not + aware of that. There had to be certain ingredients, principally mystery. + Anything sordid must not be permitted to edge in. She had often gone forth + upon semi-perilous enterprises as a reporter, entered sinister houses + where crimes had been committed, but always calculating how much copy at + eight dollars a column could be squeezed out of the affair. But this + promised to be something like those tales which were always clear and + wonderful in her head but more or less opaque when she attempted to + transfer them to paper. A secret society? Vengeance? An echo of the war? + </p> + <p> + “Johnny Two-Hawks,” she murmured aloud. “And he hopes we'll never meet + again!” + </p> + <p> + There was a mirror over the sink, and she threw a glance into it. Very + well; if he thought like that about it. + </p> + <p> + Here the doorbell tinkled. That would be the faithful janitor. She ran to + the door. + </p> + <p> + “Whadjuh wanta see me about, Miz Conover?” + </p> + <p> + “What has happened to old Mr. Gregory?” + </p> + <p> + “Him? Why, some amb'lance fellers carted him off this afternoon. Didn't + know nawthin' was the matter with 'im until I runs into them in the hall.” + </p> + <p> + “He'd been hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't say, miz. He was on a stretcher when I seen 'im. Under a sheet.” + </p> + <p> + “But he might have been dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. I ast 'em, an' they said a shock of some sort.” + </p> + <p> + “What hospital?” + </p> + <p> + “Gee, I forgot t'ast that!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll find out. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + But Kitty did not find out. She called up all the known private and public + hospitals, but no Gregor or Gregory had been received that afternoon, nor + anybody answering his description. The fog had swallowed up Stefani + Gregor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + The reportorial instinct in Kitty Conover, combined with her natural + feminine curiosity, impelled her to seek to the bottom of affair. Her + newspaper was as far from her as the poles; simply a paramount desire to + translate the incomprehensible into sequence and consequence. Harmless old + Gregor's disappearance and the advent of John Two-Hawks—the + absurdity of that name!—with his impeccable English accent, his + Latin gestures, and his black eye, convinced her that it was political; an + electrical cross current out of that broken world over there. Moribund + perspectives. What did that signify save that Johnny Two-Hawks had fought + somewhere that day for his life? Had Gregor been spirited away so as to + leave Two-Hawks without support, to confuse and discourage him and break + down his powers of resistance? Or had there been something of great value + in the Gregor apartment, and Johnny Two-Hawks had come too late to save + his friend? + </p> + <p> + A word slipped into her mind like a whiff of miasma off an evil swamp. As + she recognized the word she felt the same horror and repugnance one senses + upon being unexpectedly confronted by a cobra. Internationalism. The scum + of the world boiling to the top. A half-blind viper striking venomously at + everything—even itself! A destroyer who tore down but who knew not + how or what to build. Kitty knew that lower New York was seething with + this species of terrorism—thousands of noisome European rats trying + to burrow into the granary of democracy. But she had no particular fear of + the result. The reacting chemicals of American humour and common sense + would neutralize that virus. Supposing a ripple from this indecent eddy + had touched her feet? The torch of liberty in the hands of Anarch! + </p> + <p> + Johnny Two-Hawks. Somehow—even if she never saw him again—she + knew she would always remember him by that name. Phases of the encounter + began to return. Fine hands; perhaps he painted or played. The oblong head + of well-balanced mentality. A pleasant voice. Breeding. To be sure, he had + laughed at that fan popping out. Anybody would have laughed. Never had she + felt so idiotic. He had gravely expressed the hope that they might never + meet again because his life was in danger. What danger? Conceivably the + enmity of a society—internationalism. The word having found lodgment + in her thoughts took root. Internationalism—Utopia while you wait! + Anarchism and Bolshevism offering nostrums for humanity's ills! And there + were sane men who defended the cult on the basis that the intention was + honest. Who can say that the rattlesnake does not consider his intentions + honourable? + </p> + <p> + The attribute lacking in the ape to make him human is continuity of + thought and action in all things save one. He often starts out well but he + never arrives. His interest is never sustained. He drops one thing and + turns to another. The exception is his enmity, savage and cunning, + relentless and enduring. + </p> + <p> + Kitty was awake to one fact. She could not venture to dig into this affair + alone. On the other hand, she did not want one of the men from the city + room—a reporter who would see nothing but news. If Gregor was only a + prisoner publicity might be the cause of his death; and publicity would + certainly react hardily against Johnny Two-Hawks. To whom might she turn? + </p> + <p> + Cutty!—with his great physical strength, his shrewd and alert + mentality, and his wide knowledge of peoples and tongues. There was the + man for her—Kitty Conover's godfather. She dumped the contents of + her handbag upon the stand in the hallway in her impatience to find + Cutty's card with his telephone number. It was not in the directory. She + might catch him before he went out for the evening. + </p> + <p> + A Japanese voice answered her call. + </p> + <p> + “'Souse, but he iss out.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “No tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “How long has he been gone?” + </p> + <p> + “'Scuse!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty heard the click of the receiver as it went down upon the hook. But + she wasn't the daughter of Conover for nothing. She called up the + University Club. No. The Harvard Club. No. The Players, the Lambs; and in + the latter club she found him. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” Cutty spoke impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty Conover.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! What's the matter? Can't you have lunch with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Something very strange is happening in this old apartment house, Cutty. + I'm afraid it is a matter of life and death. Otherwise I shouldn't have + bothered you. Can you come up right away?” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as a taxi can take me!” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty then went through the apartment and turned out all the lights. Next + she drew up a chair to the kitchen window and sat down to watch. All was + dark across the way. But there was nothing singular in this fact. Johnny + Two-Hawks would have sense enough to realize that it would be safer to + move about in the dark. It was even probable that he was lying down. + </p> + <p> + Tumpitum-tump! Tumpitum-tump! went the racing Elevated; and Kitty's heart + raced along with it. Queer how the echo of Cutty's description of the + drums calling a jehad—a holy war—should adapt itself to that + Elevated. Drums! Perhaps the echo clung because she had been interested + beyond measure in his tale of those two emeralds, the drums of jeopardy. + Mobs sacking palaces and museums and banks and homes; all the scum of the + world boiling to the top; the Red Night that wasn't over. + </p> + <p> + She uttered a shaky little laugh. She would tell Cutty. The real drums of + jeopardy weren't emeralds but the roll of warning that prescience taps + upon the spine, the occult sense of impending danger. That was why the + Elevated went tumpitum-tump! tumpitum-tump! She would tell Cutty. The + drums of fear. + </p> + <p> + He over there and she here, in darkness; both of them waiting for + something to happen; and the invisible drumsticks beating the tattoo of + fear. If he were in her thoughts might not she be a little in his? She + stood up. She would do it. Convention in a moment like this was nonsense. + Hadn't he kept his side of the line scrupulously? + </p> + <p> + Nonchalance. It occurred to her for the first time that there must be good + material in a man who could come through in a contest with death, + nonchalant. She would fetch him and have him here to meet Cutty, this + rather forlorn Johnny Two-Hawks, with his unshaven face, his black eye, + and his nonchalance. She would fetch him at once. It would save a good + deal of time. + </p> + <p> + There were but ten apartments in the building, two on a floor. The living + room formed an L. Kitty's buttressed Gregor's. The elevator shaft was + inside, facing the court; and the stair head was on the Gregor side of the + elevator. The two entrances faced each other across the landing. + </p> + <p> + As Kitty opened her door to step outside she was nonplussed to see two men + issue cautiously from the Gregor door. The moment they espied her, + however, there was a mad rush for the stair head. She could hear the thud + of their feet all the way down to the ground floor; and every footfall + seemed to touch her heart. One of them carried a bundle. + </p> + <p> + She breathed quickly, and she knew that she was afraid. Neither man was + Johnny Two-Hawks. Something dreadful had happened; she was sure of it. + Reenforcing her sinking courage with nerve energy she ran across to the + Gregor door and knocked. No answer. She knocked again; then she tried the + door. Locked. The flutter in her breast died away; she became quite calm. + She was going to enter this apartment by the way of the fire escape. The + window he had come out of was still up. She had made note of this from the + kitchen. In returning he had stepped on to the springe of a snare. + </p> + <p> + She hurried back to her kitchen for the automatic. She hadn't the least + idea how to manipulate it; but she was no longer afraid of it. Bravely she + stepped out on to the fire escape. To reach her objective she had to walk + under the ladder. Danger often puts odd irrelevancies into the human + brain. As she moved forward she wondered if there was anything in the + superstition regarding ladders. + </p> + <p> + When she reached the window she leaned against the brick wall and + listened. Silence; an ominous silence. The window was open, the curtain + up. Within, what? For as long as five minutes she waited, then she climbed + in. + </p> + <p> + Now as this bedroom was a counterpart of her own she knew where the light + button would be. She might stumble over a chair or two, but in the end she + would find the light. The fingers of one hand spread out before her and + the other clutching the impossible automatic, she succeeded in navigating + the uncharted reefs of an unfamiliar room. She blinked for a moment after + throwing on the light, and stood with her back to the wall, the automatic + wabbling at nothing in particular. The room was empty so far as she could + see. There was evidence of a physical encounter, but she could not tell + whether it was due to the former or to the latter invasion. + </p> + <p> + Where was he? From where she stood she could not see the floor on the far + side of the bed. Timidly she walked past the foot of the bed—and the + transient paralysis of horror laid hold of her. She became bereft of the + power to grasp and hold, and the automatic slipped from her fingers and + thudded on the carpet. + </p> + <p> + On the floor lay poor Johnny Two-Hawks, crumpled grotesquely, a streak of + blood zigzagging across his forehead; to all appearances, dead! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + Twice before in her life Kitty had looked upon death by violence; and it + required only this present picture to convince her that she would never be + able to gaze upon it callously, without pity and terror. Newspaper life—at + least the reportorial side of it—has an odd effect upon men and + women; it sharpens their tragical instincts and perceptions and dulls + eternally the edge of tenderness and sentimentality. It was natural for + Kitty to possess the keenest perceptions of tragedy; but she had been + taken out of the reportorial field in time to preserve all her tenderness + and romanticism. Otherwise she would have seen in that crumpled object + with the sinister daub of blood on the forehead merely a story, and would + have approached it from that angle. But was he dead? She literally forced + her steps toward the body and stared. She dropped to her knees because + they were threatening to buckle in one of those flashes of physical + incoordination to which the strongest will must bow occasionally. She was + no longer afraid of the tragedy, but she feared the great surging pity + that was striving to express itself in sobs; and she knew that if she + surrendered she would forthwith become hysterical for the rest of the + evening and incompetent to carry out the plan in her head. + </p> + <p> + A strong, healthy young man done to death in this fashion only a few + minutes after he had left her kitchen! Somehow she could not look upon him + as a stranger. She had given him food; she had talked to him; she had even + laughed with him. He was not like those dead she had seen in her + reportorial days. Her orbit and Johnny Two-Hawks' had indeterminately + touched; she had known old Gregory, or Gregor, who had been this + unfortunate young man's friend. And he had hoped they might never meet + again! + </p> + <p> + The murderous scoundrels had been watching. They must have entered the + apartment shortly after he had entered hers. Conceivably they would have + Gregor's key. And they had watched and waited, striking him down it may + have been at the very moment he had crossed the sill of the window. + </p> + <p> + Her hand shook so idiotically that it was impossible for a time to tell if + the man's heart was beating. All at once a wave of hot fury rushed over + her—fury at the cowardliness of the assault—and the vertigo + passed. She laid her palm firmly over Johnny Two-Hawks' heart. Alive! He + was alive! She straightened his body and put a pillow under his head. Then + she sought water and towels. + </p> + <p> + There was no cut on his forehead, only blood; but the top of his head had + been cruelly beaten. He was alive, but without immediate aid he might die. + The poor young man! + </p> + <p> + There were two physicians in the block; one or the other would be in. She + ran to the door, to find it locked. She had forgotten. Next she found the + telephone wire cut and the speaking tube battered and inutile. She would + have to return to her own apartment to summon help. She dared not leave + the light on. The scoundrels might possibly return, and the light would + warn them that their victim had been discovered; and naturally they would + wish to ascertain whether or not they had succeeded in their murderous + assault. + </p> + <p> + As she was passing the first-landing windows she saw Cutty emerging from + the elevator. She flew across the fire-escape platform with the resilient + step of one crossing thin ice. + </p> + <p> + Probably the most astonished man in New York was the war correspondent + when the door opened and a pair of arms were flung about him, and a voice + smothered in the lapel of his coat cried: “Oh, Cutty, I never was so glad + to see any one!” + </p> + <p> + “What in the name of—” + </p> + <p> + “Come! We'll handle this ourselves. Hurry!” She dragged him along by the + sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “It is life and death! No talk now!” + </p> + <p> + Cutty, immaculate in his evening clothes, very much perturbed, went along + after her. As she passed through the kitchen window and beckoned him to + follow he demurred. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, what the deuce is going on here?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll answer your questions when we get him into my apartment. They tried + to murder him; left him there to die!” + </p> + <p> + Cutty possessed a great art, an art highly developed only in explorers and + newspaper reporters of the first order—adaptability; of being able + to cast aside instantly the conventions of civilization and let down the + bars to the primordial, the instinctive, and the natural. Thus the Cutty + who stepped out beside Kitty into the drizzle was not the Cutty she had + admitted into the apartment. She did not recognize this remarkable + transition until later; and then she discovered that Cutty, the suave and + lackadaisical in idleness, was a tremendous animal hibernating behind a + crackle shell. + </p> + <p> + Ordinarily Cutty would have declined to come through this shell, thin as + it was; he liked these catnaps between great activities. But this lovely + creature was Conover's daughter, and she would have the seventh + sense-divination of the born reporter. Something big was in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” he said, briskly. “I'm at your heels. And stoop as you pass those + hall windows. No use throwing a silhouette for somebody in those rear + houses to see.... Old Tommy Conover's daughter, sure pop!... There you go, + under the ladder! You've dished the whole affair, whatever it is.... No, + no! Just spoofing, Kitty. A long face is no good anywhere, even at a + funeral.... This window? All right. Know where the lights are? Very good.” + </p> + <p> + When Cutty saw the man on the floor he knelt quickly. “Nasty bang on the + head, but he's alive. What's this? His cap. Poughkeepsie. By George, + padded with his handkerchief! Must have known something was going to fall + on him. Now, what's it all about?” + </p> + <p> + “When we get him to my apartment.” + </p> + <p> + “Yours? Good Lord, what's the matter with this?” + </p> + <p> + “They tried to kill him here. They might return to see if they had + succeeded. They mustn't find where he has gone. I'm strong. I can take + hold of his knees.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! Neither of us could walk backward over that fire escape. He looks + husky, but I'll try it. Now obey me without question or comment. You'll + have to help me get him outside the window and in through yours. Between + the two windows I can handle him alone. I only hope we shan't be noticed, + for that might prove awkward. Now take hold. That's it. When I'm through + the window just push his legs outside.” Panting, Kitty obeyed. “All + right,” said Cutty. “I like your pluck. You run along ahead and be ready + to help me in with him. A healthy beggar! Here goes.” + </p> + <p> + With a heave and a hunch and another heave Cutty stood up, the limp body + disposed scientifically across his shoulders. Kitty was quite impressed by + this exhibition of strength in a man whom she considered as elderly—old. + There was an underthought that such feats of bodily prowess were reserved + for young men. With the naive conceit of twenty-four she ignored the + actual mathematics of fifty years of clean living and thinking, missed the + physiological fact that often men at fifty are stronger and tougher than + men in the twenties. They never waste energy; their precision of movement + and deliberation of thought conserve the residue against the supreme + moment. + </p> + <p> + As a parenthesis: To a young woman what is a hero? Generally something + conjured out of a book she has read; the unknown, handsome young man + across the street; the leading actor in a society drama; the idol of the + movie. A hero must of necessity be handsome; that is the first essential. + If he happens to be brave and debonair, rich and aristocratic, so much the + better. Somehow, to be brave and to be heroic are not actually accepted + synonyms in certain youthful feminine minds. For instance, every maid will + agree that her father is brave; but tell her he is a hero because he pays + his bills regularly and she will accept the statement with a smile of + tolerant indulgence. + </p> + <p> + Thus Kitty viewed Cutty's activities with a thrill of amazed wonder. Had + the young man hoisted Cutty to his shoulders her feeling would have been + one of exultant admiration. Let age crown its garnered wisdom; youth has + no objections to that; but feats of physical strength—that is + poaching upon youth's preserves. Kitty was not conscious of the + instinctive resentment. At that moment Cutty was to her the most + extraordinary old man in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” he whispered. “I want to know why I am doing this movie stunt.” + The journey began with Kitty in the lead. She prayed that no one would see + them as they passed the two landing windows. Below and above were vivid + squares of golden light. She regretted the drizzle; no clothes-laden lines + intervened to obscure their progress. Someone in the rear of the houses in + Seventy-ninth Street might observe the silhouettes. The whole affair must + be carried off secretly or their efforts would come to nothing. + </p> + <p> + Once inside the kitchen Cutty shifted his burden into his arms, the way + one carries a child, and followed Kitty into the unused bedroom. He did + not wait for the story, but asked for the telephone. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to call for a surgeon at the Lambs. He's just back from France + and knows a lot about broken heads. And we can trust him absolutely. I + told him to wait there until I called.” + </p> + <p> + “Cutty, you're a dear. I don't wonder father loved you.” + </p> + <p> + Presently he turned away from the telephone. “He'll be here in a jiffy. + Now, then, what the deuce is all this about?” + </p> + <p> + Briefly Kitty narrated the episodes. + </p> + <p> + “Samaritan stuff. I see. Any absorbent cotton? I can wash the wound after + a fashion. Warm water and Castile soap. We can have him in shape for + Harrison.” + </p> + <p> + Alone, Cutty took note of several apparent facts. The victim's flannel + shirt was torn at the collar and there were marks of finger nails on the + throat and chest. Upon close inspection he observed a thin red line round + the neck—the mark of a thong. Had they tried to strangle him or had + he carried something of value? Silk underwear and a clean body; well born; + foreign. After a conscientious hesitance Cutty went through the pockets. + All he found were some crumbs of tobacco and a soggy match box. They had + cleaned him out evidently. There were no tailors' labels in any of the + pockets; but there were signs that these had once existed. The man on the + bed had probably ripped them out himself; did not care to be identified. + </p> + <p> + A criminal in flight? Cutty studied the face on the pillow. Shorn of that + beard it would be handsome; not the type criminal, certainly. A bit of + natural cynicism edged into his thoughts: Kitty had seen through the + beard, otherwise she would have turned the affair over to the police. Not + at all like her mother, yet equally her mother's match in beauty and + intelligence. Conover's girl, whose eyes had nearly popped out of her head + at the first sight of those drum-lined walls of his. + </p> + <p> + Two-Hawks. What was it that was trying to stir in his recollection? + Two-Hawks. He was sure he had heard that name before. Hawksley meant + nothing at all; but Two-Hawks possessed a strange attraction. He stared + off into space. He might have heard the name in a tongue other than + English. + </p> + <p> + A sound. It came from the lips of the young man. Cutty frowned. The poor + chap wasn't breathing in a promising way; he groaned after each + inhalation. And what had become of the old fellow Kitty called Gregory? A + queer business. + </p> + <p> + Kitty came in with a basin and a roll of absorbent cotton. + </p> + <p> + “He is groaning!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty rocky condition, I should say. That handkerchief in his cap + doubtless saved him. Now, little lady, I frankly don't like the idea of + his being here. Suppose he dies? In that event there'll be the very devil + to pay. You're all alone here, without even a maid.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I all alone?”—softly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no; come to think of it, I'm no longer your godfather in theory. + Give me the cotton and hold the basin.” + </p> + <p> + He was very tender. The wound bled a little; but it was not the kind that + bled profusely. It was less a cut than a smashing bruise. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's all I can do. Who was this tenant Gregory?” + </p> + <p> + “A dear old man. A valet at a Broadway hotel. Oh, I forgot! Johnny + Two-Hawks called him Stefani Gregor.” + </p> + <p> + “Stefani Gregor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What is it? Why do you say it like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Say it like what?”—sparring for time. + </p> + <p> + “As if you had heard the name before?” + </p> + <p> + “Just as I thought!” cried Cutty, his nimble mind pouncing upon a happy + invention. “You're romantic, Kitty. You're imagining all sorts of nonsense + about this chap, and you must not let the situation intrigue you. If I + spoke the name oddly—this Stefani Gregor—it was because I + sensed in a moment that this was a bit of the overflow. Southeastern + Europe, where the good Samaritan gets kicked instead of thanked. Now, + here's a good idea. Of course we can't turn this poor chap loose upon the + public, now that we know his life is in danger. That's always the trouble + with this Samaritan business. When you commit a fine action you assume an + obligation. You hoist the Old Man of the Sea on your shoulders, as it + were. The chap cannot be allowed to remain here. So, if Harrison agrees, + we'll take him up to my diggings, where no Bolshevik will ever lay eyes + upon him.” + </p> + <p> + “Bolshevik?” + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of a handle. They might be Chinamen, for all I know. I can + take care of him until he is on his feet. And you will be saved all this + annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “But I don't believe it's going to be an annoyance. I'm terribly + interested, and want to see it through.” + </p> + <p> + “If he can be moved, out he goes. No arguments. He can't stay in this + apartment. That's final.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly why not?” Kitty demanded, rebelliously. + </p> + <p> + “Because I say so, Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Stefani Gregor an undesirable?” + </p> + <p> + “You knew him. What do you say?” countered her godfather, evading the + trap. The innocent child! He smiled inwardly. + </p> + <p> + Kitty was keen. She sensed an undercurrent, and her first attempt to touch + it had failed. The mere name of Stefani Gregor had not roused Cutty's + astonishment. She was quite positive that the name was not wholly + unfamiliar to her father's friend. + </p> + <p> + Still, something warned her not to press in this direction. He would be on + the alert. She must wait until he had forgotten the incident. So she drew + up a chair beside the bed and sat down. + </p> + <p> + Cutty leaned against the footrail, his expression neutral. He sighed + inaudibly. His delightful catnap was over. Stefani Gregor, Kitty's + neighbour, a valet in a fashionable hotel! Stefani Gregor, who, upon a + certain day, had placed the drums of jeopardy in the palms of a war + correspondent known to his familiars as Cutty. And who was this young man + on the bed? + </p> + <p> + “There goes the bell!” cried Kitty, jumping up. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” + </p> + <p> + The ring was repeated vigorously and impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, I don't quite like the sound of that bell. Harrison would have no + occasion to be impatient. Somebody in a hurry. Now, attend to me. I'm + going to steal out to the kitchen. Don't be afraid. Call if I'm needed. + Open the door just a crack, with your foot against it. If it's Harrison + he'll be in uniform. Call out his name. Slam the door if it is someone you + don't know.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty opened the door as instructed, but she swung it wide because one of + the men outside was a policeman. The man behind him was a thickset, squat + individual, with puffed, discoloured eyes and a nose that reminded Kitty + of an alligator pear. + </p> + <p> + “What's going on here?” the policeman demanded to know. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + A phrase, apparently quite irrelevant to the situation, shot into Kitty's + head. Moribund perspectives. Instantly she knew, with that foretasting + mind of hers, that the man peering over the policeman's shoulder and + Johnny Two-Hawks had met somewhere that day. She was now able to compare + the results, and she placed the victory on Two-Hawks' brow. Yonder + individual somehow justified the instinct that had prompted her to play + the good Samaritan. Whence had this gorilla come? He was not one of the + men who had issued in such dramatic haste from the Gregor apartment. + </p> + <p> + “This man here saw you and another carrying someone across the fire + escape. What's the rumpus?” The policeman was not exactly belligerent, but + he was dutifully determined. And though he was ready to grant that this + girl with the Irish eyes was beautiful, a man never could tell. + </p> + <p> + “There's been a tragedy of some kind,” began Kitty. “This man certainly + did see us carrying a man across the fire escape. He had been set upon and + robbed in the apartment across the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you call in the police?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he might have died before you got here.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the man who helped you?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone. He was an outsider. He was afraid of getting mixed up in a police + affair and ran away.” Behind the kitchen door Cutty smiled. She would do, + this girl. + </p> + <p> + “Sounds all right,” said the policeman. “I'll take a look at the man.” + </p> + <p> + “This way, if you please,” said Kitty, readily. “You come, too, sir,” she + added as the squat man hesitated. Kitty wanted to watch his expression + when he saw Johnny Two-Hawks. + </p> + <p> + Seed on rocky soil; nothing came of the little artifice. No Buddha's + graven face was less indicative than the squat man's. Perhaps his face was + too sore to permit mobility of expression. The drollery of this thought + caused a quirk in one corner of Kitty's mouth. The squat man stopped at + the foot of the bed with the air of a mere passer-by and seemed more + interested in the investigations of the policeman than in the man on the + bed. But Kitty knew. + </p> + <p> + “A fine bang on the coco,” was the policeman's observation. “Take anything + out of his pockets?” + </p> + <p> + “They were quite empty. I've sent for a military surgeon. He may arrive at + any moment.” + </p> + <p> + “This fellow live across the way?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the odd part of it. No, he doesn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what was he doing there?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably awaiting the return of the real tenant who hasn't returned up to + this hour”—with an oblique glance at the squat man. + </p> + <p> + “Kind o' queer. Say, you stay here and watch the lady while I scout + round.” + </p> + <p> + The squat man nodded and leaned over the foot of the bed. The policeman + stalked out. + </p> + <p> + “I was in the kitchen,” said Kitty, confidingly. “I saw shadows on the + window curtain. It did not look right. So I started to inquire and almost + bumped into two men leaving the apartment. They took to their heels when + they saw me.” + </p> + <p> + Again the squat man nodded. He appeared to be a good listener. + </p> + <p> + “Where were you when we crossed the fire escape?” + </p> + <p> + “In the yard on the other side of the fence.” There was reluctance in the + guttural voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see. You live there.” + </p> + <p> + As this was a supposition and not a direct query, the squat man wagged his + head affirmatively. + </p> + <p> + Kitty, her ears strained for disquieting sounds in the kitchen, laid her + palm on the patient's cheek. It was very hot. She dipped a bit of cotton + into the water, which had grown cold, and dampened the wounded man's + cheeks and throat. Not that she expected to accomplish anything by this + act; it relieved the nerve tension. This man was no fool. If her surmises + were correct he was a strong man both in body and in mind. In a rage he + would be terrible. However, had Johnny Two-Hawks done it—beaten the + man and escaped? No doubt he had been watching all the time and had at + length stepped in to learn if his subordinates had followed his + instructions and to what extent they had succeeded. + </p> + <p> + “If he dies it will be murder.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a big city.” + </p> + <p> + “And so many terrible things happen like this every day. But sooner or + later those who commit them are found out. Nemesis always follows on the + heels of vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time there was a flash of interest in the battered eyes of + the intruder. Perhaps he saw that this was not only a pretty woman but a + keen one, and sensed the veiled threat. Moreover, he knew that she had + lied at one point. There had been no light in the room across the court. + </p> + <p> + But what in the world was happening out there in the kitchen? Kitty + wondered. So far, not a sound. Had Cutty really taken flight? And why + shouldn't he have faced it out at her side? Very odd on Cutty's part. + Shortly she heard the heavy shoes of the policeman returning. + </p> + <p> + “Guess it's all right, miss. I'll report the affair at the precinct and + have an ambulance sent over. You'll have to come along with me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that legally necessary?” asked the squat man, rather perturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Sure. You saw the thing and I verified it,” declared the policeman. “It + won't take ten minutes. Your name and address, in case this man dies.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Very well.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty wasn't sure, but the policeman seemed embarrassed about something. + The directness was gone from his eyes and his speech was no longer brisk. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Conover,” said Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “I got that coming in,” replied the policeman. “We'll be on our way.” + </p> + <p> + Not once again did the squat man glance at the man on the bed. He followed + the policeman into the hall, his air that of one who had accepted a + certain obligation to community welfare and cancelled it. + </p> + <p> + Kitty shut the door—and leaned against it weakly. Where had Cutty + gone? Even as she expressed the query she smelt burning tobacco. She ran + out into the kitchen, to behold Cutty seated in a chair calmly smoking his + infamous pipe! + </p> + <p> + “And I thought you were gone! What did you say to that policeman?” + </p> + <p> + “I hypnotized him, Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “The newspaper?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Just looked into his eye and made a few passes with my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if you believe you ought not to tell me—” said Kitty, + which is the way all women start their wheedling. + </p> + <p> + Cutty looked into the bowl of his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, when you throw a cobble into a pond, what happens? A splash. But + did you ever notice the way the ripples have of running on and on, until + they touch the farthest shore?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And this is a ripple from some big stone cast into the pond of + southeastern Europe. I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just the difficulty. If you understood nothing it would be much + easier for me. But you know just enough to want to follow up on your own + hook. I know nothing definitely; I have only suspicions. I calmed that + policeman by showing him a blanket police power issued by the + commissioner. I want you to pack up and move out of this neighbourhood. + It's not congenial to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I can't afford to move until May.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take care of that gladly, to get you out of this garlicky ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Cutty; I'm going to stay here until the lease is up.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee-whiz! The Irish are all alike,” cried the war correspondent, + hopelessly. “Petticoat or pantaloon, always looking for trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Cutty; simply we don't run away from it. And there's just as much + Irish in you as there is in me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure! And for thirty years I've gone hunting for trouble, and never + failed to find it. I don't like this affair, Kitty; and because I don't + I'm going to risk my Samson locks in your lily-white hands. I am going to + tell you two things: I am a secret foreign agent of the United States + Government. Now don't light up that way. Dark alleys and secret papers and + beautiful adventuresses and bang-bang have nothing at all to do with my + job. There isn't a grain of romance in it. Ostensibly I am a war + correspondent. I have handled all the big events in Serbia and Bulgaria + and Greece and southwestern Russia. Boiled down, I am a census taker of + undesirables. Socialist, anarchist and Bolshevik—I photograph them + in my mental 'fillums' and transmit to Washington. Thus, when Feodor + Slopeski lands at Ellis Island with the idea of blowing up New York, he is + returned with thanks. I didn't ask for the job; it was thrust upon me + because of my knowledge of the foreign tongues. I accepted it because I am + a loyal American citizen.” + </p> + <p> + “And you left me because you' didn't know who might be at the door!” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. I am known in lower New York under another name. I'm a rabid + internationalist. Down with everything! I don't go out much these days; + keep under cover as much as I can. Once recognized, my value would be nil. + In a flannel shirt I'm a dangerous codger.” + </p> + <p> + “And Gregor and this poor young man are in some way mixed up with + internationalism!” + </p> + <p> + “Victims, probably.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the other thing you wish to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Because your eyes are slate blue like your mother's. I loved your mother, + Kitty,” said Cutty, blinking into his pipe. “And the singular fact is, + your father knew but your mother never did. I was never able to tell your + mother after your father died. Their bodies were separated, but not their + spirits.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty nodded. So that was it? Poor Cutty! + </p> + <p> + “I make this confession because I want you to understand my attitude + toward you. I am going to elect myself as your special guardian so long as + I'm in New York. From now on, when I ask you to do something, understand + that I believe it best for you. If my suspicions are correct we are not + dealing with fools but with madmen. The most dangerous human being, Kitty, + is an honest man with a half-baked or crooked idea; and that's what this + world pother, Bolshevism, is—honest men with crooked ideas, carrying + the torch of anarchism and believing it enlightenment. What makes them + tear down things? Every beautiful building is only a monument to their + former wretchedness; and so they annihilate. None of them actually knows + what he wants. A thousand will-o'-the-wisps in front of them, and all + alike. A thousand years to throw off the shackles, and they expect Utopia + in ten minutes! It makes you want to weep. Socialism—the brotherhood + of man—is a beautiful thing theoretically; but it is like some plays—they + read well but do not act. Lopping off heads, believing them to be ideas!” + </p> + <p> + “The poor things!” + </p> + <p> + “That's it. Though I betray them I pity them. Democracy; slowly and + surely. As prickly with faults as a cactus pear; but every year there are + less prickles. We don't stand still or retrogress; we keep going on and + up. Take this town. Think of It to-day and compare it with the town your + father knew. There's the bell. I imagine that will be Harrison. If we can + move this chap will you go to a hotel for the night?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to stay here, Cutty. That's final.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty sighed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + At the precinct station the squat man gave a name and an address to the + bored sergeant at the desk, passed out a cigar, lit one himself, expressed + some innocuous opinions upon one or two topics of the day, and walked + leisurely out of the precinct. He wanted to laugh. These pigheads had + never thought to question his presence in the backyard of the house in + Seventy-ninth Street. It was the way he had carried himself. Those years + in New York, prior to the war, had not been wasted. The brass-buttoned + fools! + </p> + <p> + Serenely unconscious that he was at liberty by explicit orders, because + the Department of Justice did not care to trap a werewolf before + ascertaining where the pack was and what the kill, he proceeded leisurely + to the corner, turned, and broke into a run, which carried him to a drug + store in Eightieth Street. Here he was joined by two men, apparently coal + heavers by the look of their hands and faces. + </p> + <p> + “They will take him to a hospital. Find where, then notify me. Remember, + this is your business, and woe to you if you fail. Where is it?” One of + the men extended an object wrapped in ordinary grocer's paper. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! That's good. I shall enjoy myself presently. Remember: telephone me + the moment you learn where they take him. He is still alive, bunglers! And + you came away empty-handed.” + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing on him. We searched.” + </p> + <p> + “He has hidden them in one of those rooms. I'll attend to that later. + Watch the hospital for an hour or so, then telephone for information + regarding his condition. Is that motor for me? Very good. Remember!” + </p> + <p> + Inside the taxicab the squat man patted the object on his knees, and + chuckled from time to time audibly. It would be worth all that journey, + all he had gone through since dawn that morning. Stefani Gregor! After + these seven long years—the man who had betrayed him! To reach into + his breast and squeeze his heart as one might squeeze a bit of cheese! + Many things to tell, many pictures to paint. He rode far downtown, wound + in and out of the warehouse district for a while, then dismissed the taxi + and proceeded on foot to his destination—a decayed brick mansion of + the 40's sandwiched in between two deserted warehouses. In the hall of the + first landing a man sat in a chair under the gas, reading a newspaper. At + the approach of the squat man he sprang to his feet, but a phrase + dissipated his apprehension and he nodded toward a door. + </p> + <p> + “Unlock it for me and see that I am not disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + Presently the squat man stood inside the room, which was dark. He struck a + match and peered about for the candle. The light discovered a room barren + of all furniture excepting the table upon which stood the candle, and a + single chair. In this chair was a man, bound. He was small and dapper, his + gray hair swept back a la Liszt. His chin was on his breast, his body + limp. Apparently the bonds alone held him in the chair. + </p> + <p> + The squat man laid his bundle on the table and approached the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Stefani Gregor, look up; it is I!” He drummed on his chest like a + challenging gorilla. “I, Boris Karlov!” + </p> + <p> + Slowly the eyelids of the prisoner went up, revealing mild blue eyes. But + almost instantly the mildness was replaced by an agate hardness, and the + body became upright. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is Boris, whom you betrayed. But I escaped by a hair, Stefani; + and we meet again.” + </p> + <p> + What good to tell this poor madman that Stefani Gregor had not betrayed + him, that he had only warned those marked for death? There was no longer + reason inside that skull. To die, probably in a few moments. So be it. Had + he not been ready for seven years? But that poor boy—to have come + all these thousands of miles, only to walk into a trap! Had he found that + note? Had they killed him? Doubtless they had or Boris Karlov would not be + in this room. + </p> + <p> + “We killed him to-night, Stefani, in your rooms. We threw out the food so + he would have to seek something to eat. The last of that breed, stem and + branch! We are no longer the mud; we ourselves are the heels. We are + conquering the world. Today Europe is ours; to-morrow, America!” + </p> + <p> + A wintry little smile stirred the lips of the man in the chair. America, + with its keen perceptions of the ridiculous, its withering humour! + </p> + <p> + “No more the dissolute opera dancers will dance to your fiddling, Stefani, + while we starve in the town. Fiddler, valet, tutor, the rivers and seas of + Russia are red. We roll east and west, and our emblem is red. Stem and + branch! We ground our heels in their faces as for centuries they ground + theirs in ours. He escaped us there—but I was Nemesis. He died + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The body in the chair relaxed a little. “He was clean and honest, Boris. I + made him so. He would have done fine things if you had let him live.” + </p> + <p> + “That breed?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you yourself loved him when he was a boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Stem and branch! I loved my little sister Anna, too. But what did they do + to her behind those marble walls? Did you fiddle for her? What was she + when they let her go? My pretty little Anna! The fires of hell for those + damned green stones of yours, Stefani! She heard of them and wanted to see + them, and you promised.” + </p> + <p> + “I? I never promised Anna! ... So that was it? Boris, I only saw her + there. I never knew what brought her. But the boy was in England then.” + </p> + <p> + “The breed, the breed!” roared the squat man. “Ha, but you should have + seen! Those gay officers and their damned master—we left them with + their faces in the mud, Stefani; in the mud! And the women begged. Fine + music! Those proud hearts, begging Boris Karlov for their lives—their + faces in the mud! You, born of us in those Astrakhan Hills, you denied us + because you liked your fiddle and a full belly, and to play keeper of + those emeralds. The winding paths of torture and misery and death by which + they came into the possession of that house! And always the proletariat + has had to pay in blood and daughters. You, of the people, to betray us!” + </p> + <p> + “I did not betray you. I only tried to save those who had been kind to + me.” + </p> + <p> + A cunning light shot into Karlov's eyes. “The emeralds!” He struck his + pocket. “Here, Stefani; and they shall be broken up to buy bread for our + people.” + </p> + <p> + “That poor boy! So he brought them! What are you going to do with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Watch you grow thin, Stefani. You want death; you shall want food + instead. Oh, a little; enough to keep you alive. You must learn what it is + to be hungry.” + </p> + <p> + The squat man picked up the bundle from the table and tore off the + wrapping paper. A violin the colour of old Burgundy lay revealed. + </p> + <p> + “Boris!” The man in the chair writhed. + </p> + <p> + “Have I waked you, Stefani?”—tenderly. “The Stradivarius—the + very grand duke of fiddles! And he and his damned officers, how they used + to call out—'Get Stefani to fiddle for us!' And you fiddled, dragged + your genius though the mud to keep your belly warm!” + </p> + <p> + “To save a soul, Boris—the boy's. When I fiddled his uncle forgot to + drag him into an orgy. Ah, yes; I fiddled, fiddled because I had promised + his mother!” + </p> + <p> + “The Italian singer! She was lucky to die when she did. She did not see + the torch, the bayonet, and the mud. But the boy did—with his + English accent! How he escaped I don't know; but he died to-night, and the + emeralds are in my pocket. See!” Karlov held the instrument close to the + other's face. “Look at it well, this grand duke of fiddles. Look, fiddler, + look!” + </p> + <p> + The huge hands pressed suddenly. There was brittle crackling, and a rare + violin became kindling. A sob broke from the prisoner's lips. What to + Karlov was a fiddle to him was a soul. He saw the madman fling the + wreckage to the floor and grind his heels into the fragments. Gregor shut + his eyes, but he could not shut his ears; and he sensed in that cold, + demoniacal fury of the crunching heel the rising of maddened peoples. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Meanwhile, Captain Harrison of the Medical Corps entered the Conover + apartment briskly. + </p> + <p> + “You old vagabond, what have you been up to? I beg pardon!”—as he + saw Kitty emerge from behind Cutty's bulk. + </p> + <p> + “This is Miss Conover, Harrison.” + </p> + <p> + “Very pleased, I'm sure. Luckily my case was in the coat room at the club. + I took the liberty of telephoning for Miss Frances, who returned on the + same ship with me. I concluded that your friend would need a nurse. Let me + have a look at him.” + </p> + <p> + Callously but lightly and skillfully the surgeon examined the battered + head. “Escaped concussion by a hair, you might say. Probably had his cap + on. That black eye, though, is an older affair. Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I suspect he's some political refugee. We don't know a thing about him + otherwise. How soon can he be moved?” + </p> + <p> + “He ought to be moved at once and given the best of care.” + </p> + <p> + “I can give him that in my eagle's nest. Harrison, this chap's life is in + danger; and if we get him into my lofty diggings they won't be able to + trace him. Not far from here there's a private hospital I know. It goes + through from one street to the next. I know the doctor. We'll have the + ambulance carry the patient there, but at the rear I'll have one of the + office newspaper trucks. And after a little wait we'll shoot the stretcher + into the truck. The police will not bother us. I've seen to that. I rather + believe it falls in with some of my work. The main idea, of course, is to + rid Miss Conover of any trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you say,” agreed the surgeon. “That's all I can do for the + present. I'll run down to the entrance and wait for The nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “Will he live?” asked Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he will. He is in good physical condition. Imagine he has + simply been knocked out. Serious only if unattended. Your finding him + probably saved him. Twelve hours will tell the story. May be on his feet + inside a week. Still, it would be advisable to keep him in bed as long as + possible. Fagged out, I should say, from that beard. I'll go down and wait + for Miss Frances.” + </p> + <p> + “And ring three times when you return,” advised Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Did they try to strangle him or did he have something round + his neck?” + </p> + <p> + “Hanged if I know.” + </p> + <p> + “All out of the room now. I want it dark. Just as soon as the nurse + arrives I'll return. Three rings.” Harrison left the apartment. + </p> + <p> + Cutty spent a few minutes at the telephone, then he joined Kitty in the + living room. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, what was the stranger like?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a gorilla. He spoke English as if he had a cold.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty scowled into space. “Have a scar over an eyebrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, I couldn't tell! Both his eyes were black and his nose + banged dreadfully. Johnny Two-Hawks probably did it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bully for Two-Hawks! Kitty, you're a marvel. Not a flivver from the + start. And those slate-blue eyes of yours don't miss many things.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she interrupted, taking hold of his sleeve. “Hear it?” + </p> + <p> + “Only the Elevated.” + </p> + <p> + “Tumpitum-tump! Tumpitum-tump! Cutty, you hypnotized me this afternoon + with your horrid drums.” + </p> + <p> + “The emeralds?” He managed to repress the start. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what it is; drums, anyhow. Maybe it is the emeralds. + Something has been happening ever since you told me about them—the + misery and evil that follow their wake.” + </p> + <p> + “But the story goes that women are immune, Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! No woman is immune where a wonderful gem is concerned. And yet + I've common sense and humour.” + </p> + <p> + “And a lot more besides, Kitty. You're a raving, howling little beauty; + and how you've remained out of captivity this long is a puzzler to me. + Haven't you got a beau somewhere?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Cutty. Perhaps I'm one of those who are quite willing to wait + patiently. If the one I want doesn't come—why, I'll be a jolly, + philosophical old maid. No seconds or culls for me, as the magazine editor + says.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly what do you want?” Cutty was keenly curious, for some reason he + could not define. He did not care for diamonds as stones; but he admired + any personality that flashed differently from each new angle exposed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a man, among other things. I don't mean one of those godlike chromos + in the frontispiece of popular novels. He hasn't got to be handsome. But + he must be able to laugh when he's happy, when he's hurt. I must be his + business in life. He must know a lot about things I know. I want a comrade + who will come to me when he has a joke or an ache. A gay man and + whimsical. The law can make any man a husband, but only God can make a + good comrade.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty,” said Cutty, his fine eyes sparkling, “I shan't have to watch over + you so much as I thought. On the other hand, you have described me to a + dot.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite possibly. Vanity has its uses. It keeps us in contact with bathtubs + and nice clothes. I imagine that you would make both husband and comrade; + or you would have, twenty years ago”—without intentional cruelty. + Wasn't Cutty fifty-two? + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, you've touched a vital point. It took those twenty years to make + me companionable. Experience is something we must buy; it isn't left in + somebody's will. Let us say that I possess all the necessary attributes + save one.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Youth, Kitty. And take the word of a senile old dotard, your young man, + when you find him, will lack many of the attributes you require. On the + other hand, there is always the possibility that these will develop as you + jog along. The terrible pity of youth is that it has the habit of + conferring these attributes rather than finding them. You put garlands on + the heads of snow images, and the first glare of sunshine—pouf!” + </p> + <p> + “Cutty, I'm beginning to like you immensely”—smiling. “Perhaps women + ought to have two husbands—one young and handsome and the other old + and wise like yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty wished he were alone in order to analyze the stab. Old! When he knew + that mentally and physically he could take and break a dozen Two-Hawks. + Old! He had never thought himself that. Fifty-two years; they had piled up + on him without his appreciation of the fullness of the score. And yet he + was more than a match for any ordinary man of thirty in sinew and brain; + and no man met the new morning with more zest than he himself met it. But + to Kitty he was old! Lavender and oak leaves were being draped on his door + knob. He laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you laugh?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, because—Hark!” + </p> + <p> + The two of them ran to the bedroom door. + </p> + <p> + “Olga! Olga!” And then a guttural level jumble of sounds. + </p> + <p> + Kitty's quick brain reached out for a similitude—water rushing over + ragged boulders. + </p> + <p> + “Olga!” she whispered. “He is a Russian!” + </p> + <p> + “There are Serbian Olgas and Bulgarian Olgas and Rumanian Olgas. Probably + his sweetheart.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Sounds like Russian,” added Cutty, his conscience pricking him. But he + welcomed that “Olga.” It would naturally put a damper on Kitty's interest. + “There's Harrison with the nurse.” + </p> + <p> + Quarter of an hour later the patient was taken down to the ambulance and + conveyed to the private hospital. Cutty had no way of ascertaining whether + they were followed; but he hoped they would be. The knowledge that their + victim was in a near-by hospital would naturally serve to relax the enemy + vigilance temporarily; and this would permit safely and secretly the + second leg of the journey—that to his own apartment. + </p> + <p> + He decided to let an hour go past; then Two-Hawks was taken through the + building to the rear and transferred to the truck. Cutty sat with the + driver while Captain Harrison and the nurse rode inside with the patient. + </p> + <p> + On the way Cutty was rather disturbed by the deep impression Kitty Conover + had made upon his heart and mind. That afternoon he had looked upon her + with fatherly condescension, as the pretty daughter of the two he had + loved most. From the altitude of his fifty-two he had gazed down upon her + twenty-four, weighing her as like all young women of twenty-four—pleasure-loving + and beau-hunting and fashion-scorched; and in a flash she had revealed the + formed mind of a woman of thirty. Altitude. He had forgotten that relative + to altitudes there are always two angles of vision—that from the + summit and that from the green valley below. Kitty saw him beyond the tree + line, but just this side of the snows—and matched his condescension + with pity! He chuckled. Doddering old ass, what did it matter how she + looked at him? + </p> + <p> + Beautiful and young and full of common sense, yet dangerously romantical. + To wait for the man she wanted, what did that signify but romance? And + there was her Irish blood to consider. The association of pretty nurse and + interesting patient always afforded excellent background for sentimental + nonsense, the obligations of the one and the gratitude of the other. Well, + he had nipped that in the bud. + </p> + <p> + And why hadn't he taken this Two-Hawks person—how easy it was to + fall into Kitty's way of naming the chap!—why hadn't he taken him + directly to the Roosevelt? Why all this pother and secrecy over a total + stranger? Stefani Gregor, who lived opposite Kitty and who hadn't + prospered particularly since the day he had exhibited the drums of + jeopardy—he was the reason. These were volcanic days, and a friend + of Stefani Gregor—who played the violin like Paganini—might + well be worth the trouble of a little courtesy. Then, too, there was that + mark of the thong—a charm, a military identification disk or + something of value. Whatever it was, the rogues had got it. Murder and + loot. And as soon as he returned to consciousness the young fellow would + be making inquiries. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Kitty's point of view regarding a certain duffer aged fifty-two + was nearer the truth than the duffer himself realized. Second childhood! + As if the drums of jeopardy would ever again see light, after that tempest + of fire and death—that mud volcano! + </p> + <p> + One thing was certain—there would be no more cat-napping. The game + was on again. He was assured of that side of it. + </p> + <p> + Green stones, the sunlight breaking against the flaws in a shower of + golden sparks; green as the pulp of a Champagne grape; the drums of + jeopardy! Murder and loot; he could understand. + </p> + <p> + Immediately after the patient was put to bed Cutty changed. A nondescript + suit of the day-labourer type and a few deft touches of coal dust + completed his make-up. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't be back until morning,” he announced. “Work to do. Kuroki will + be at your service through the night, Miss Frances. Strike that Burmese + gong once, at any hour. Come along, Harrison.” + </p> + <p> + “Want any company?” asked Harrison, with a belligerent twist to his + moustache. + </p> + <p> + Cutty laughed. “No. You run along to your lambs. I'm running with the + wolves to-night, old scout, and you might get that spick-and-span uniform + considerably mussed up. Besides, it's raining.” + </p> + <p> + “But what's to become of Miss Conover? She ought not to remain alone in + that apartment.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! I thought of that, too. But she can take care of herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Those ruffians may call up the hospital and learn that we tricked them. + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “Try to force the truth from Miss Conover.” + </p> + <p> + “That's precisely the wherefore of this coal dust. On your way!” + </p> + <p> + Eleven o'clock. Kitty was in the kitchen, without light, her chair by the + window, which she had thrown up. She had gone to bed, but sleep was + impossible. So she decided to watch the Gregor windows. Sometimes the mind + is like a movie camera set for a double exposure. The whole scene is + visible, but the camera sees only half of it. Thus, while she saw the + windows across the court there entered the other side of her mind a + picture of the immaculate Cutty crossing the platform with Johnny + Two-Hawks thrown over his shoulder. The mental picture obscured the + actual. + </p> + <p> + She had called him old. Well, he was old. And no doubt he looked upon her + as a child, wanting her to spend the night at a hotel! The affair was + over. No one would bother Kitty Conover. Why should they? But it took + strength to shoulder a man like that. What fun he and her father must have + had together! And Cutty had loved her mother! That made Kitty exquisitely + tender for a moment. All alone, at the age when new friendships were + impossible. A lovable man like that going down through life alone! + </p> + <p> + Census taker of alien undesirables; a queer occupation for a man so famous + as Cutty. Patriotism—to plunge into that seething revolutionary scum + to sort the dangerous madmen from the harmless mad-men. Courage and + strength and mental resource; yes, Cutty possessed these; and he would be + the kind to laugh at a joke or a hurt. + </p> + <p> + One thing, however, was indelibly printed on her mind. Stefani Gregor—either + Cutty had met and known the man or he had heard of him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she became conscious that she was blinking as one blinks from + mirror-reflected sunlight. She cast about for the source of this + phenomenon. Obliquely from between the interstices of the fire-escape + platform came a point of moving white light. She craned her neck. A + battery lamp! The round spot of light worked along the cement floor, + vanished occasionally, reappeared, and then vanished altogether. Somebody + was down there hunting for something. What? + </p> + <p> + Kitty remained with her head out of the window for some time, unmindful of + the spatter of rain. But nothing happened. The man was gone. Of course the + incident might not have the slightest bearing upon the previous adventures + of this amazing night; still, it was suggestive. The young man had worn + something round his neck. But if his enemies had it why should this man + comb the court, unless he was a tenant and had knocked something off a + window ledge? + </p> + <p> + She began to appreciate that she was very tired, and decided to go back to + bed. This time she fell asleep. Her disordered thoughts rearranged + themselves in a dazzling dream. She found herself wandering through a + glorious translucent green cavern—a huge emerald. And in the + distance she heard that unmistakable tumpitum-tump! tumpitum-tump! It drew + her irresistibly. She fought and struggled against the fascinating sound, + but it continued to draw her on. Suddenly from round a corner came the + squat man, his hair a la Fuzzy-Wuzzy. He caught her savagely by the + shoulder and dragged her toward a fire of blazing diamonds. On the other + side of that fire was a blonde young woman with a tiara of rubies on her + head. “Save me! I am Olga, Olga!” Kitty struggled fiercely and awoke. + </p> + <p> + The light was on. At the side of her bed were two men. One of them was + holding her bare shoulder and digging his fingers into it cruelly. They + looked like coal heavers. + </p> + <p> + “We do not wish to harm you, and won't if you're sensible. Where did they + take the man you brought?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Kitty did not wrench herself loose at once. She wasn't quite sure that + this was not a continuance of her nightmare. She knew that nightmares had + a way of breaking off in the middle of things, of never arriving anywhere. + The room looked natural enough and the pain in her shoulder seemed real + enough, but one never could tell. She decided to wait for the next + episode. + </p> + <p> + “Answer!” cried the spokesman of the two, twisting Kitty's shoulder. + “Where did they take him?” + </p> + <p> + Awake! Kitty wrenched her shoulder away and swept the bedclothes up to her + chin. She was thoroughly frightened, but her brain was clear. The spark of + self-preservation flew hither and about in search of expediencies, + temporizations. She must come through this somehow with the vantage on her + side. She could not possibly betray that poor young man, for that would + entail the betrayal of Cutty also. She saw but one avenue, the telephone; + and these two men were on the wrong side of the bed, between her and the + door. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” Her throat was so dry she wondered whether the words + were projected far enough for them to hear. + </p> + <p> + “We want the address of the wounded man you brought into this apartment.” + </p> + <p> + “They took him to a hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “He was taken away from there.” + </p> + <p> + “He was?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he was. You may not know where, but you will know the address of the + man who tricked us; and that will be sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “The army surgeon? He was called in by chance. I don't know where he + lives.” + </p> + <p> + “The man in the dress suit.” + </p> + <p> + “He was with the surgeon.” + </p> + <p> + “He came first. Come; we have no time to waste. We don't want to hurt you, + and we hope you will not force us. + </p> + <p> + “Will you step out of the room while I dress?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Tell us where the man lives, and you can have the whole apartment to + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak English very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! Do you want us to bundle you up in the bedclothes and carry you + off? It will not be a pleasant experience for a pretty young woman like + yourself. Something happened to the man you knew as Gregory. Will that + make you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “You know what abduction means?” + </p> + <p> + “Your police will not catch us.” + </p> + <p> + “But I might give you the wrong address.” + </p> + <p> + “Try it and see what happens. Young lady, this is a bad affair for a woman + to be mixed up in. Be sensible. We are in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you seem to have acquired at least one American habit!” said a + gruff voice from the bedroom doorway. “Raise your hands quickly, and don't + turn,” went on the gruff voice. “If I shoot it will be to kill. It is a + rough game, as you say. That's it; and keep them up. Now, then, young + lady, slip on your kimono. Get up and search these men. I'm in a hurry, + too.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty obeyed, very lovely in her dishevelment. Repugnant as the task was + she disarmed the two men and flung their weapons on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Now something to tie their hands; anything that will hold.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty could see the speaker now. Another coal heaver, but evidently on her + side. + </p> + <p> + “Tie their hands behind them... I warn you not to move, men. When I say + I'll shoot I mean it. Don't be afraid of hurting them, miss. Very good. + Now bandage their eyes. Handkerchiefs.” + </p> + <p> + But Kitty's handkerchiefs did not run to the dimensions' required; so she + ripped up a petticoat. Torn between her eagerness to complete a + disagreeable task and her offended modesty, Kitty went through the + performance with creditable alacrity. Then she jumped back into bed, + doubled her knees, and once more drew up the bedclothes to her chin, + content to be a spectator, her eyes as wide as ever they possibly could + be. + </p> + <p> + Some secret-service man Cutty had sent to protect her. Dear old Cutty! + Small wonder he had urged her to spend the night at a hotel. The + admiration of her childhood returned, but without the shackles of shyness. + She had always trusted him absolutely, and to this trust was now added + understanding. To have him pop into her life again in this fashion, all + the ordinary approaches to intimacy wiped out by these amazing episodes; + the years bridged in an hour! If only he were younger! + </p> + <p> + “Watch them, miss. Don't be afraid to shoot. I'll return in a moment”—still + gruffly. The secret-service man pushed his prisoners into chairs and left + the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Kitty did not care how gruff the voice was; it was decidedly pleasant in + her ears. Gingerly she picked up one of the revolvers. Kitty Conover with + shooting irons in her hands, like a movie actress! She heard a whistle. + After this an interval of silence, save for the ticking of the alarm clock + on the stand. She eyed the blindfolded men speculatively, swung out of + bed, and put on her stockings and sandals; then she sat on the edge of the + bed and waited for the sequence. Kitty Conover was going to have some + queer recollections to tell her grandchildren, providing she had any. That + morning she had risen to face a humdrum normal day. And here she was, at + midnight, hobnobbing with quiescent murder and sudden death! To-morrow + Burlingame would ask her to hustle up the Sunday stuff, and she would + hustle. She wanted to laugh, but was a little afraid that this laughter + might degenerate into incipient hysteria. + </p> + <p> + There was still in her mind a vivid recollection of her dream—the + fire of diamonds and the blonde girl with the tiara of rubies. Olga, Olga! + Russian; the whole affair was Russian. She shivered. Always that land and + people had appeared to her in sinister aspect; no doubt an impression + acquired from reading melodramas written by Englishmen who, once upon a + time, had given Russia preeminence as a political menace. Russia, in all + things—music, art, literature—the tragic note. Stefani Gregor + and Johnny Two-Hawks had roused the enmity of some political society with + this result. Nihilist or Bolshevist or socialist, there was little choice; + and Cutty sensibly did not want her drawn into the whirlpool. + </p> + <p> + What a pleasant intimacy hers and Cutty's promised to be! And if he hadn't + casually dropped into the office that afternoon she would have surrendered + the affair to the police, and that would have been the end of it. Amazing + thought—you might jog along all your life at the side of a person + and never know him half so well as someone you met m a tense episode, like + that of the immaculate Cutty crossing the fire escape with Two-Hawks on + his shoulders! + </p> + <p> + She heard the friendly coal heaver going down the corridor to the door. + When he returned to the bedroom two men accompanied him. Not a word was + said. The two men marched off with the prisoners and left Kitty alone with + her saviour. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she said, simply. + </p> + <p> + “You poor little chicken, did you believe I had deserted you?” The voice + wasn't gruff now. + </p> + <p> + “Cutty?” Kitty ran to him, flinging her arms round his neck. “Oh, Cutty!” + </p> + <p> + Cutty's heart, which had bumped along an astonishing number of million + times in fifty-two years, registered a memorable bump against his ribs. + The touch of her soft arms and the faint, indescribable perfume which + emanates from a dainty woman's hair thrilled him beyond any thrill he had + ever known. For Kitty's mother had never put her arms round old Cutty's + neck. Of course he understood readily enough: Molly's girl, flesh of her + flesh. And she had rushed to him as she would have rushed to her father. + He patted her shoulder clumsily, still a little dazzled for all the + revelation in the analysis. The sweet intimacy of it! The door of Paradise + opened for a moment, and then shut in his face. + </p> + <p> + “I did not recognize you at all!” she cried, standing off. “I shouldn't + have known you on the street. And it is so simple. What a wonderful man + you are!” + </p> + <p> + “For an old codger?” Cutty's heart registered another sizable bump. + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed. “Never call yourself old to me again. Are you always doing + these things?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I keep moving. I suspected something like this might happen. Those + two will go to the Tombs to await deportation if they are aliens. Perhaps + we can dig something out of them relative to this man Gregor. Anyhow, + we'll try.” + </p> + <p> + “Cutty, I saw a man in the court with a pocket lamp before I went to bed. + He was hunting for something.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't find anything but a lot of fresh food someone had thrown out.” + </p> + <p> + “It was you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. There was a vague possibility that your protege might have thrown + out something valuable during the struggle.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord knows! A queer business, Kitty, you've lugged me into—my own! + And there is one thing I want you to remember particularly: Life means + nothing to the men opposed, neither chivalry nor ethics. Annihilation is + their business. They don't want civilization; they want chaos. They have + lost the sense of comparisons or they would not seek to thrust Bolshevism + down the throats of the rest of the world. They say democracy has failed, + and their substitute is murder and loot. Kitty, I want you to leave this + roost.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall stay until my lease expires.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? In the face of real danger?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I intend to, Cutty—unless you kidnap me.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any good reason?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll laugh; but something tells me to stay here.” + </p> + <p> + But Cutty did not laugh. “Very well. Tomorrow an assistant janitor will be + installed. His name is Antonio Bernini. Every night he will whistle up the + tube. Whistle back. If you are going out for the evening notify him where + you intend to go and when you expect to be back. A wire from your bed to + his cot will be installed. In danger, press the button. That's the best I + can do for you, since you decide to stick. I don't believe anything more + will happen to-night, but from now on you will be watched. Never come + directly to my apartment. Break your journey two or three times with + taxis. Always use Elevator Four. The boy is mine; belongs to the service. + So our Bolshevik friends won't gather anything about you from him.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, Cutty had now come to the conviction that it would be + well to let Kitty remain here as a lure. He had urged her to leave, and + she had refused, so his conscience was tolerably clear. Besides, she would + henceforth be guarded with a ceaseless efficiency second only to that + which encompasses a President of the United States. Always some man of the + service would be watching those who watched her. This was going to develop + into a game of small nets, one or two victims at a time. Because these + enemies of civilization lacked coherence in action there would be slim + chance of rounding them up in bulk. But from now on men would vanish—one + here, a pair there, perhaps on occasion four or five. And those who had + known them would know them no more. The policy would be that employed by + the British in the submarine campaign—mysterious silence after the + evanishment. + </p> + <p> + “It's all so exciting!” said Kitty. “But that poor old man Gregor! He had + a wonderful violin, Cutty; and sometimes I used to hear him play folklore + music—sad, haunting melodies.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll know in a little while what's become of him. I doubt there is a + foreign organization in the city that hasn't one or more of our men on the + inside. A word will be dropped somewhere. I'm rarely active on this side + of the Atlantic; and what I'm doing now is practically due to interest. + But every active operative in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and Chicago + is on the lookout for a man who, if left free, will stir up a lot of + trouble. He has leadership, this Boris Karlov, a former intimate here of + Trotzky's. We have reason to believe that he slipped through the net in + San Francisco. Probably under a cleverly forged passport. Now please + describe the man who came in with the policeman. I haven't had time to + make inquiries at the precinct, where they will have a minute description + of him.” + </p> + <p> + “He made me think of a gorilla, just as I told you. His face was pretty + well banged up. Naturally I did not notice any scar. A dreadfully black + beard, shaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Squat, powerful, like a gorilla. Lord, I wish I'd had a glimpse of him! + He's one of the few topnotchers I haven't met. He's the spark, the hand on + the plunger. The powder is all ready in this land of ours; our job is to + keep off the sparks until we can spread the stuff so it will only go puff + instead of bang. This man Karlov is bad medicine for democracy. Poor + devil!” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I'm honestly sorry for them. This fellow Karlov has suffered. He + is now a species of madman nothing will cure. He and his kind have gained + their ends in Russia, but the impetus to kill and burn and loot is still + unchecked. Sorry, yes; but we can't have them here. They remind me of + nothing so much as those blind deep-sea monsters in one of Kipling's + tales, thrown up into air and sunlight by a submarine volcano, slashing + and bellowing. But we can't have them here any longer. Keep those + revolvers under your pillow. All you have to do is to point. Nobody will + know that you can't shoot. And always remember, we're watching over you. + Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Mouquin's for lunch?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be hanged! But it can't be, Kitty. You and I must not be seen + in public. If that was Karlov you will be marked, and so will any one who + travels with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” + </p> + <p> + “Fact. But come up to the roost—changing taxis—to-morrow at + five and have tea.” + </p> + <p> + Down in the street Cutty bore into the slanting rain, no longer a drizzle. + With his hands jammed in his side pockets and his gaze on the sparkling + pavement he continued downtown, in a dangerously ruminative frame of mind, + dangerous because had he been followed he would not have known it. + </p> + <p> + Molly Conover's girl! That afternoon it had been Tommy Conover's girl; now + she was Molly's. It occurred to him for the first time that he was one of + those unfortunate individuals who are always able to open the door to + Paradise for others and are themselves forced to remain outside. Hadn't he + introduced Conover to Molly, and hadn't they fallen in love on the spot? + Too old to be a hero and not old enough to die. He grinned. Some day he + would use that line. + </p> + <p> + Of course it wasn't Kitty who set this peculiar cogitation in motion. It + wasn't her arms and the perfume of her hair. The actual thrill had come + from a recrudescence of a vanished passion; anyhow, a passion that had + been held suspended all these years. Still, it offered a disquieting + prospect. He was sensible enough to realize that he would be in for some + confusion in trying to disassociate the phantom from the quick. + </p> + <p> + Most pretty young women were flitter-flutters, unstable, shallow, + immature. But this little lady had depth, the sense of the living drama; + and, Lord, she was such a beauty! Wanted a man who would laugh when he was + happy and when he was hurt. A bull's-eye—bang, like that! For the + only breed worth its salt was the kind that laughed when happy and when + hurt. + </p> + <p> + The average young woman, rushing into his arms the way she had, would not + have stirred him in the least. And immediately upon the heels of this + thought came a taste of the confusion he saw in store for himself. Was it + the phantom or Kitty? He jumped to another angle to escape the impasse. + Kitty's coming to him in that fashion raised an unpalatable suggestion. He + evidently looked fatherly, no matter how he felt. Hang these fifty-two + years, to come crowding his doorstep all at once! + </p> + <p> + He raised his head and laughed. He suddenly remembered now. At nine that + night he had been scheduled to deliver a lecture on the Italo-Jugoslav + muddle before a distinguished audience in the ballroom of a famous hotel! + He would have some fancy apologizing to do in the morning. + </p> + <p> + He stepped into a doorway, then peered out cautiously. There was not a + single pedestrian in sight. No need of hiking any further in this rain; so + he hunted for a taxi. To-morrow he would set the wires humming relative to + old Stefani Gregor. Boris Karlov, if indeed it were he, would lead the + way. Hadn't Stefani and Boris been boyhood friends, and hadn't Stefani + betrayed the latter in some political affair? He wasn't sure; but a glance + among his 1912 notes would clear up the fog. + </p> + <p> + But that young chap! Who was he? Cutty set his process of logical + deduction moving. Karlov—always supposing that gorilla was Karlov—had + come in from the west. So had the young man. Gregor's inclinations had + been toward the aristocracy; at least, that had been the impression. A + Bolshevik would not seek haven with a man like Gregor, as this young man + had. But Two-Hawks bothered him; the name bothered him, because it had no + sense either in English or in Russian. And yet he was sure he had heard it + somewhere. Perhaps his notes would throw some light on that subject, too. + </p> + <p> + When he arrived home Miss Frances, the nurse, informed him that the + patient was babbling in an outlandish tongue. For a long time Cutty stood + by the bedside, translating. + </p> + <p> + “Olga!... Olga!... And she gave me food, Stefani, this charming American + girl. Never must we forget that. I was hungry, and she gave me food.... + But I paid for it. You, gone, there was no one else.... And she is + poor.... The torches!... I am burning, burning!... Olga!” + </p> + <p> + “What does he say?” asked the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “It is Russian. Is it a crisis?” he evaded. + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily. Doctor Harrison said he would probably return to + consciousness sometime to-morrow. But he must have absolute quiet. No + visitors. A bad blow, but not of fatal consequence. I've seen hundreds of + cases much worse pull out in a fortnight. You'd better go to bed, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Cutty, gratefully. He was tired. The ball did not + rebound as it used to; the resilience was petering out. But look alive, + there! Big events were toward, and he must not stop to feel of his pulse. + </p> + <p> + Three o'clock in the morning. + </p> + <p> + The man in the Gregor bedroom sat down on the bed, the pocket lamp + dangling from his hairy fingers. Not a nook or cranny in the apartment had + he overlooked. In every cupboard, drawer; in the beds and under; the + trunks; behind the radiators and the pictures; the shelves and clothes in + the closets. What he sought he had not found. + </p> + <p> + His vengeance would not be complete without those green stones in his + hands. Anna would call from her grave. Pretty little Anna, who had trusted + Stefani Gregor, and gone to her doom. + </p> + <p> + All these thousands of miles, by hook and crook, by forged passports, by + sums of money, sleepless nights and hungry days—for this! The last + of that branch of the breed out of his reach, and the stones vanished! A + queer superstition had taken lodgment in his brain; he recognized it now + for the first time. The possession of those stones would be a sign from + God to go on. Green stones for bread! Green stones for bread! The drums of + jeopardy! In his hands they would be talismanic. + </p> + <p> + But wait! That pretty girl across the way. Supposing he had intrusted the + stones to her? Or hidden them there without her being aware of it? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + Kitty Conover ate in the kitchen. First off, this statement is likely to + create the false impression that there was an ordinary grain here, a wedge + of base hemlock in the citron. Not so. She ate in the kitchen because she + could not yet face that vacant chair in the dining room without choking + and losing her appetite. She could not look at the chair without + visualizing that glorious, whimsical, fascinating mother of hers, who + could turn grumpy janitors into comedians and send importunate bill + collectors away with nothing but spangles in their heads. + </p> + <p> + So long as she stayed out of the dining room she could accept her + loneliness with sound philosophy. She knew, as all sensible people know, + that there were ghosts, that memory had haunted galleries, and that empty + chairs were evocations. + </p> + <p> + Her days were so busily active, there were so many first nights and + concerts, that she did not mind such evenings as she had to spend alone in + the apartment. Persons were in and out of the office all through the day, + and many of them entertaining. For only real persons ever penetrated that + well-guarded cubby-hole off the noisy city room. Many of them were old + friends of her mother. Of course they were a little pompous, but this was + less innate than acquired; and she knew that below they were worth while. + She had come to the conclusion that successful actors and actresses were + the only people in America who spoke English fluently and correctly. + </p> + <p> + Yes, she ate in the kitchen; but she would have been a fit subject for the + fastidious Fragonard. Kitty was naturally an exquisite. Everything about + her was dainty, her body and her mind. The background of pans and dishes, + gas range and sink did not absorb Kitty; her presence here in the morning + lifted everything out of the rut of commonplace and created an atmosphere + that was ornamental. Pink peignoir and turquoise-blue boudoir cap, silk + petticoat and stockings and adorable little slippers. No harm to tell the + secret! Kitty was educating herself for a husband. She knew that if she + acquired the habit of daintiness at breakfast before marriage it would + become second nature after marriage. Moreover, she was determined that it + should be tremendous news that would cause a newspaper to intervene. She + had all the confidence in the world in her mirror. + </p> + <p> + She got her breakfast this morning, singing. She was happy. She had found + a door out of monotony; theatrical drama had given way to the living. She + had opened the book of adventure and she was going straight through to + finis. That there was an undertow of the sinister escaped her or she + ignored it. + </p> + <p> + In all high-strung Irish souls there is a bit of the old wife, the + foreteller; the gift of prescience; and Kitty possessed this in a mild + degree. Something held her here, when for a dozen reasons she should have + gone elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + She strained the coffee, humming a tune out of The Mikado, the revival of + which she had seen lately: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My object all sublime + I shall achieve in time + To make the punishment fit the crime. + The punishment fit the crime. + And make the prisoner pent + Unwillingly represent + A source of innocent merriment. + Of innocent merriment! +</pre> + <p> + And there you were! To make the punishment fit the crime. Wall in the + Bolsheviki, the I.W.W.'s, the Red Socialist, the anarchists—and let + them try it for ten years. Those left would be glad enough to embrace + democracy and sanity. The poor benighted things, to imagine that they were + going forward there in Russia! What kind of mentality was it that could + conceive a blessing to humanity in the abolition of baths and work? And + Cutty felt sorry for them. Well, as for that, so did Kitty Conover; and + she would continue feeling sorry for them so long as they remained + thousands of miles away. But next door! + </p> + <p> + “Grapefruit, eggs on toast, and coffee; mademoiselle is served!” she + cried, gayly, sitting down and attacking her breakfast with the zest of + healthy youth. + </p> + <p> + Often the eyes are like the lenses of a camera minus the sensitized plate; + they see objects without printing them. Thus a dozen times Kitty's glance + absently swept the range and the racks on each side of the stovepipe, one + rack burdened with an empty pancake jug and the other cluttered with + old-fashioned flatirons; but she saw nothing. + </p> + <p> + She was carefully reviewing the events of the night before. She could not + dismiss the impression that Cutty knew Stefani Gregor or had heard of him; + and in either case it signified that Gregor was something more than a + valet. And decidedly Two-Hawks was not of the Russian peasantry. + </p> + <p> + By the time she was ready to leave for the office the Irish blood in her + was seething and bubbling and dancing. She knew she would do crazy, + impulsive things all day. It was easy to analyze this exuberance. She had + reached out into the dark and touched danger, and found a new thrill in a + humdrum world. + </p> + <p> + The Great Dramatist had produced a tremendous drama and she had watched + curtain after curtain fall from the wrong side of the lights. Now she had + been given a speaking part; and she would be down stage for a moment or + two—dusting the furniture—while the stars were retouching + their make-up. It was not the thought of Cutty, of Gregor, of Johnny + Two-Hawks, of hidden treasure; simply she had arrived somewhere in the + great drama. + </p> + <p> + When she reached the office she had a hard time of it to settle down to + the day's work. + </p> + <p> + “Hustle up that Sunday stuff,” said Burlingame. Kitty laughed. Just as she + had pictured it. She hustled. + </p> + <p> + “I have it!” she cried, breaking a spell of silence. + </p> + <p> + “What—St. Vitus?” inquired Burlingame, patiently. + </p> + <p> + “No; the Morgue!” + </p> + <p> + “What the dickens—!” + </p> + <p> + But Kitty was no longer there to answer. + </p> + <p> + In all newspaper offices there is a department flippantly designated as + the Morgue. Obituaries on ice, as it were. A photograph or an item + concerning a great man, a celebrated, beauty or some notorious rogue; from + the king calibre down to Gyp-the-Blood brand, all indexed and laid away + against the instant need. So, running her finger tip down the K's, Kitty + found Karlov. The half tone which she eventually exhumed from the tin box + was an excellent likeness of the human gorilla who had entered her rooms + with the policeman. She would be able to carry this positive information + to Cutty that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + When she left the office at four she took the Subway to Forty-second + Street. She engaged a taxi from the Knickerbocker and discharged it at the + north entrance to the Waldorf, which she entered. She walked through to + the south entrance and got into another taxi. She left this at + Wanamaker's, ducking and dodging through the crowded aisles. She selected + this hour because, being a woman, she knew that the press of shoppers + would be the greatest during the day. Karlov's man and the secret-service + operative detailed by Cutty both made the same mistake—followed + Kitty into the dry-goods shop and lost her as completely as if she had + popped up in China. At quarter to five she stepped into Elevator Number + Four of the building which Cutty called his home, very well pleased with + herself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + To understand Kitty at this moment one must be able to understand the + Irish; and nobody does or can or will. Consider her twenty-four years, her + corpuscular inheritance, the love of drama and the love of adventure. + Imagine possessing sound ideas of life and the ability to apply them, and + spiritually always galloping off on some broad highway—more often + than not furnished by some engaging scoundrel of a novelist—and you + will be able to construct a half tone of Kitty Conover. + </p> + <p> + That civilization might be actually on its deathbed, that positively half + of the world was starving and dying and going mad through the reaction of + the German blight touched her in a detached way. She felt sorry, + dreadfully sorry, for the poor things; but as she could not help them she + dismissed them from her thoughts every morning after she had read the + paper, the way most of us do here in these United States. You cannot + grapple with the misery of an unknown person several thousand miles away. + </p> + <p> + That which had taken place during the past twenty-four hours was to her a + lark, a blindman's buff for grown-ups. It was not in her to tremble, to + shudder, to hesitate, to weigh this and to balance that. Irish curiosity. + Perhaps in the original that immortal line read: “The Irish rush in where + angels fear to tread,” and some proofreader had a particular grudge + against the race. + </p> + <p> + When the elevator reached the seventeenth floor, the passengers surged + forth. All except Kitty, who tarried. + </p> + <p> + “We don't carry to the eighteenth, miss. + </p> + <p> + “I am Miss Conover,” she replied. “I dared not tell you until we were + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I see.” The boy nodded, swept her with an appraising glance, and sent the + elevator up to the loft. + </p> + <p> + “You understand? If any one inquires about me, you don't remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss. The boss's orders.” + </p> + <p> + “And if any one does inquire you are to report at once.” + </p> + <p> + “That, too.” + </p> + <p> + The boy rolled back the door and Kitty stepped out upon a Laristan runner + of rose hues and cobalt blue. She wondered what it cost Cutty to keep up + an establishment like this. There were fourteen rooms, seven facing the + north and seven facing the west, with glorious vistas of steam-wreathed + roofs and brick Matterhorns and the dim horizon touching the sea. Fine + rugs and tapestries and furniture gathered from the four ends of the + world; but wholly livable and in no sense atmospheric of the museum. Cutty + had excellent taste. + </p> + <p> + She had visited the apartment but twice before, once in her childhood and + again when she was eighteen. Cutty had given a dinner in honour of her + mother's birthday. She smiled as she recalled the incident. Cutty had + placed a box of candles at the side of her mother's plate and told her to + stick as many into the cake as she thought best. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” said Cutty, emerging from one of the doors. “What the dickens + have you been up to? My man has just telephoned me that he lost track of + you in Wanamaker's.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty explained, delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! If you can lose a man such as I set to watch you, you'll have + no trouble shaking the others.” + </p> + <p> + “It was Karlov, Cutty.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you learn?” + </p> + <p> + “Searched the morgue and found a half tone of him. Positively Karlov. How + is the patient?” + </p> + <p> + “Harrison says he's pulling round amazingly. A tough skull. He'll be up + for his meals in no time.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you do it?” she asked with a gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Manage a place like this? In a busy office district. It's the most + wonderful apartment in New York. Riverside has nothing like it. It must + cost like sixty.” + </p> + <p> + “The building is mine, Kitty. That makes it possible. An uncle who knew I + hated money and the responsibilities that go with it, died and left it to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Cutty, you must be rich!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry. What can I do? I can't give it away.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't have to work!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I do. I'm that kind. I'd die of a broken heart if I had to sit + still. It's the game.” + </p> + <p> + “Did mother know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + With the toe of a snug little bronze boot Kitty drew an outline round a + pattern in the rug. + </p> + <p> + “Love is a funny thing,” was her comment. + </p> + <p> + “It sure is, old-timer. But what put the thought into your head?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking how very much mumsy must have been in love with father.” + </p> + <p> + “But she never knew that I loved her, Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that got to do with it? If she had wanted money you wouldn't have + had the least chance in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably not! But what would you have done in your mother's place?” + </p> + <p> + “Snapped you up like that!” Kitty flashed back. + </p> + <p> + “You cheerful little—little—” + </p> + <p> + “Liar. Say it!” Kitty laughed. “But am I a cheerful little liar? I don't + know. It would be an awful temptation. Somebody to wait on you; heaps of + flowers when you wanted them; beautiful gowns and thingummies and furs and + limousines. I've often wondered what I should do if I found myself with + love and youth on one side and money and attraction on the other. I've + always been in straitened circumstances. I never spent a dollar in all my + days when I didn't think I ought to have held back three or four cents of + it. You can't know, Cutty, what it is to be poor and want beautiful things + and good times. Of course. I couldn't marry just money. There would have + to be some kind of a man to go with it. Someone interesting enough to make + me forget sometimes that I'd thrown away a lover for a pocket-book.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you marry me, Kitty?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you serious?” + </p> + <p> + “Let's suppose I am.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I couldn't marry you, Cutty I should always be having my mother's + ghost as a rival.” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing I fell in love with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'd always be doubting your constancy. But what queer talk!”' + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, you're a joy! Lordy, my luck in dropping in to see you yesterday!” + </p> + <p> + “And a little whippersnapper like me calling a great man like you Cutty!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if it embarrasses you, you might switch to papa once in a while.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty's laughter rang down the corridor. “I'll remember that whenever I + want to make you mad. Who's here?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody but Harrison and the nurse. Both good citizens, and I've taken + them into my confidence to a certain extent. You can talk freely before + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to see the patient?” + </p> + <p> + “Harrison says not. About Wednesday your Two-Hawks will be sitting up. + I've determined to keep the poor devil here until he can take care of + himself. But he is flat broke.” + </p> + <p> + “He said he had money.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Karlov's men stripped him clean.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea who he is?” + </p> + <p> + “To be honest, that's one of the reasons why I want to keep him here. He's + Russian, for all his Oxford English and his Italian gestures; and from his + babble I imagine he's been through seven kinds of hell. Torches and + hobnailed boots and the incessant call for a woman named Olga—a + young woman about eighteen.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you find that out?” + </p> + <p> + “From a photograph I found in the lining of his coat. A pretty blonde + girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!”—recollecting her dream. “Where was it printed?” + </p> + <p> + “Amateur photography. I'll pick it up on the way to the living room.” + </p> + <p> + It was nothing like the blonde girl of her dream. Still, the girl was + charming. Kitty turned over the photograph. There was writing on the back. + </p> + <p> + “Russian? What does it say?” + </p> + <p> + “'To Ivan from Olga with all her love.'” + </p> + <p> + Cutty was conscious of the presence of an indefensible malice in his + tones. Why the deuce should he be bitter—glad that the chap had left + behind a sweetheart? He knew exactly the basis of Kitty's interest, as + utterly detached as that of a reporter going to a fire. On the day the + patient could explain himself, Kitty's interest would automatically cease. + An old dog in the manger? Malice. + </p> + <p> + “Cutty, something dreadful has happened to this poor young woman. That's + what makes him cry out the name. Caught in that horror, and probably he + alone escaped. Is it heartless to be glad I'm an American? Do they let in + these Russians?” + </p> + <p> + “Not since the Trotzky regime. I imagine Two-Hawks slipped through on some + British passport. He'll probably tell us all about it when he comes round. + But how do you feel after last night's bout?” + </p> + <p> + “Alive! And I'm going on being alive, forever and ever! Oh, those awful + drums! They look like dead eyes in those dim corners. Tumpitum-tump! + Tumpitum-tump!” she cried, linking her arm in his. “What a gorgeous view! + Just what I'm going to do when my ship comes in—live in a loft. I + really believe I could write up here—I mean worth-while things I + could enjoy writing and sell.” + </p> + <p> + “It's yours if you want it when I leave.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'd have a fine time explaining to my friends! You old innocent! ... + Or are you so innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “We do live in a cramped world. But I meant it. Don't forget to whistle + down to Tony Bernini when you get back home to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise. + </p> + <p> + “Why the gurgle?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I'm tremendously excited. All my life I've wanted to do + mysterious things. I've been with the audience all the while, and I want + to be with the actors.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll give some man a wild dance.” + </p> + <p> + “If I do I'll dance with him. Now lead me to the cookies.” + </p> + <p> + She was the life of the tea table. Her wit, her effervescence, her + whimsicalities amused even the prim Miss Frances. When she recounted the + exploit of the camouflaged fan, Cutty and Harrison laughed so loudly that + the nurse had to put her finger on her lips. They might wake the patient. + </p> + <p> + “I am really interested in him,” went on Kitty. “I won't deny it. I want + to see how it's going to turn out. He was very nice after I let him into + the kitchen. A perfectly English manner and voice, and Italian gestures + when off his guard. I feel so sorry for him. What strangers we races are + to each other! Until the war we hardly knew the Canadians. The British + didn't know us at all, and the French became acquainted with the British + for the first time in history. And the German thought he knew us all and + really knew nobody. All the Russians I ever saw were peasants of the + cattle type; so that the word Russian conjures up two pictures—the + grand duke at Monte Carlo and a race of men who wear long beards and never + bathe except when it rains. Think of it! For the first time since God set + mankind on earth peoples are becoming acquainted. I never saw a Russian of + this type before.”. + </p> + <p> + “A leaf in the whirlpool.—Anyhow, we'll keep him here until he's on + his feet. By the way, never answer any telephone call—I mean, go + anywhere on a call—unless you are sure of the speaker.” + </p> + <p> + “I begin to feel important.” + </p> + <p> + “You are important. You have suddenly become a connecting link between + this Karlov and the man we wish to protect. I'll confess I wanted you out + of that apartment at first; but when I saw that you were bent on + remaining, I decided to make use of you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to give me a part in the play?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You are to go about your affairs as always, just as if nothing had + happened. Only when you wish to come here will you play any game like that + of to-day. Then it will be advisable. Switch your route each time. Your + real part is to be that of lure. Through you we shall gradually learn who + Karlov's associates are. If you don't care to play the role all you have + to do is to move.” + </p> + <p> + “The idea! I'm grateful for anything. You men will never understand. You + go forth into the world each day—politics, diplomacy, commerce, war—while + we women stay at home and knit or darn socks or take care of the baby or + make over our clothes and hats or do household work or play the piano or + read. Never any adventure. Never any games. Never any clubs. The leaving + your house to go to the office is an adventure. A train from here to + Philadelphia is an adventure. We women are always craving it. And about + all we can squeeze out of life is shopping and hiding the bills after + marriage, and going to the movies before marriage with young men our + fathers don't like. We can't even stroll the street and admire the + handsome gowns of our more fortunate sisters the way you men do. When you + see a pretty woman on the street do you ever stop to think that there are + ten at home eating their hearts out? Of course you don't. So I'm going + through with this, to satisfy suppressed instincts; and I shan't promise + to trot along as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “They may attempt to kidnap you, Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't frighten me.” + </p> + <p> + “So I observe. But if they ever should have the luck to kidnap you, tell + all you know at once. There's only one way up here—the elevator. I + can get out to the fire escape, but none can get in from that direction, + as the door is of steel.” + </p> + <p> + “And, of course, you'll take me into your confidence completely?” + </p> + <p> + “When the time comes. Half the fun in an adventure is the element of the + unexpected,” said Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you first meet Stefani Gregor?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Harrison laughed. He liked this girl. She was keen and could be + depended upon, as witness last night's work. Her real danger lay in being + conspicuously pretty, in looking upon this affair as merely a kind of + exciting game, when it was tragedy. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think I know Stefani Gregor?” asked Cutty, genuinely + curious. + </p> + <p> + “When I pronounced that name you whirled upon me as if I had struck you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. When we learn who Two-Hawks is I'll tell you what I know about + Gregor. And in the meantime you will be ceaselessly under guard. You are + an asset, Kitty, to whichever side holds you. Captain Harrison is going to + stay for dinner. Won't you join us?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to a studio potluck with some girls. And it's time I was on the + way. I'll let your Tony Bernini know. Home probably at ten.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty went with her to the elevator and when he returned to the tea table + he sat down without speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Why not kidnap her yourself,” suggested Harrison, “if you don't want her + in this?” + </p> + <p> + “She would never forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “If she found it out.” + </p> + <p> + “She's the kind who would. What do you think of her, Miss Frances?” + </p> + <p> + “I think she is wonderful. Frankly, I should tell her everything—if + there is anything more to be told.” + </p> + <p> + When dinner was over, the nurse gone back to the patient and Captain + Harrison to his club, Cutty lit his odoriferous pipe and patrolled the + windows of his study. Ever since Kitty's departure he had been mulling + over in his mind a plan regarding her future—to add a codicil to his + will, leaving her five thousand a year, so Molly's girl might always have + a dainty frame for her unusual beauty. The pity of it was that convention + denied him the pleasure of settling the income upon her at once, while she + was young. He might outlive her; you never could tell. Anyhow, he would + see to the codicil. An accident might step in. + </p> + <p> + He got out his chrysoprase. In one corner of the room there was a large + portfolio such as artists use for their proofs and sketches; and from this + he took a dozen twelve-by-fourteen-inch photographs of beautiful women, + most of them stage beauties of bygone years. The one on top happened to be + Patti. The adorable Patti!... Linda, Violetta, Lucia. Lord, what a + nightingale she had been! He laughed laid the photograph on the desk, and + dipped his hand into a canvas bag filled with polished green stones which + would have great commercial value if people knew more about them; for + nothing else in the world is quite so beautifully green. + </p> + <p> + He built tiaras above the lovely head and laid necklaces across the + marvellous throat. Suddenly a phenomenon took place. The roguish eyes of + the prima donna receded and vanished and slate-blue ones replaced them. + The odd part of it was, he could not dissipate the fancied eyes for the + replacement of the actual. Patti, with slate-blue eyes! He discarded the + photograph and selected another. He began the game anew and was just + beginning the attack on the problem uppermost in his mind when the + phenomenon occurred again. Kitty's eyes! What infernal nonsense! Kitty had + served merely to enliven his tender recollections of her mother. + Twenty-four and fifty-two. And yet, hadn't he just read that Maeterlinck, + fifty-six, had married Mademoiselle Dahon, many years younger? + </p> + <p> + In a kind of resentful fury he pushed back his chair and fell to pacing, + eddies and loops and spirals of smoke whirling and sweeping behind him. + The only light was centred upon the desk, so he might have been some god + pacing cloud-riven Olympus in the twilight. By and by he laughed; and the + atmosphere—mental—cleared. Maeterlinck, fifty-six, and Cutty, + fifty-two, were two different men. Cutty might mix his metaphors + occasionally, but he wasn't going to mix his ghosts. + </p> + <p> + He returned to his singular game. More tiaras and necklaces; and his brain + took firm hold of the theme which had in the beginning lured him to the + green stones. + </p> + <p> + Two-Hawks. That name bothered him. He knew he had heard it before, but + never in the Russian tongue. It might be that the chap had been spoofing + Kitty. Still, he had also called himself Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + The smoke thickened; there were frequent flares of matches. One by one + Cutty discarded the photographs, dropping them on the floor beside his + chair, his mind boring this way and that for a solution. He had now come + to the point where he ceased to see the photographs or the green stones. + The movements of his hands were almost automatic. And in this abstract + manner he came to the last photograph. He built a necklace and even + ventured an earring. + </p> + <p> + It was a glorious face—black eyes that followed you; full lipped; + every indication of fire and genius. It must be understood that he rarely + saw the photographs when he played this game. It wasn't an amusing + pastime, a mental relaxation. It was a unique game of solitaire, the + photographs and chrysoprase being substituted for cards; and in some + inexplicable manner it permitted him to concentrate upon whatever problem + filled his thoughts. It was purely accidental that he saw Patti to-night + or recalled her art. Coming upon the last photograph without having found + a solution of the riddle of Two-Hawks he relaxed the mental pressure; and + his sight reestablished its ability to focus. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + He seized the photograph excitedly, scattering the green stones. She! The + Calabrian, the enchanting colouratura who had vanished from the world at + the height of her fame, thirty-odd years gone! Two-Hawks! + </p> + <p> + Cutty saw himself at twenty, in the pit at La Scala, with music-mad Milan + all about him. Two-Hawks! He remembered now. The nickname the young bloods + had given her because she had been eternally guarded by her mother and + aunt, fierce-beaked Calabrians, who had determined that Rosa should never + throw herself away on some beggarly Adonis. + </p> + <p> + And this chap was her son! Yesterday, rich and powerful, with a name that + was open sesame wherever he went; to-day, hunted, penniless, and forlorn. + Cutty sank back in his chair, stunned by the revelation. In that room + yonder! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + For a long time Cutty sat perfectly motionless, his pipe at an upward + angle—a fine commentary on the strength of his jaws—and his + gaze boring into the shadows beyond his desk. What was uppermost in his + thoughts now was the fateful twist of events that had brought the young + man to the assured haven of this towering loft. + </p> + <p> + All based, singularly enough, upon his wanting to see Molly's girl for a + few moments; and thus he had established himself in Kitty's thoughts. + Instead of turning to the police she had turned to him. Old Cutty, + reaching round vaguely for something to stay the current—age; hoping + by seeing this living link 'twixt the present and the past to stay the + afterglow of youth. As if that could be done! He, who had never paid any + attention to gray hairs and wrinkles and time, all at once found himself + in a position similar to that of the man who supposes he has an + inexhaustible sum at the bank and has just been notified that he has + overdrawn. + </p> + <p> + Cutty knew that life wasn't really coordination and premeditation so much + as it was coincident. Trivials. Nothing was absolute and dependable but + death; between birth and death a series of accidents and incidents and + coincidents which men called life. + </p> + <p> + He tapped his pipe on the ash tray and stood up. He gathered the + chrysoprase and restored the stones to the canvas bag. Then he carefully + stacked the photographs and carried them to the portfolio. The green + stones he deposited in a safe, from which he took a considerable bundle of + small notebooks, returning to the desk with these. Denatured dynamite, + these notebooks, full of political secrets, solutions of mysteries that + baffle historians. A truly great journalist never writes history as a + historian; he is afraid to. Sometimes conjecture is safer than fact. And + these little notebooks were the repository of suppressed facts ranging + over twenty-odd years. Gerald Stanley Lee would have recognized them + instantly as coming under the head of what he calls Sh! + </p> + <p> + An hour later Cutty returned the notebooks to their abiding place, his + memory refreshed. The poor devil! A dissolute father and uncle, dissolute + forbears, corrupt blood weakened by intermarriage, what hope was there? + Only one—the rich, fiery blood of the Calabrian mother. + </p> + <p> + But why had the chap come to America? Why not England or the Riviera, + where rank, even if shorn of its prerogatives, is still treated + respectfully? But America! + </p> + <p> + Cutty's head went up. Perhaps that was it—to barter his phantom + greatness for money, to dazzle some rich fool of an American girl. In that + case Karlov would be welcome. But wait a moment. The chap had come in from + the west. In that event there should be an Odyssey of some kind tucked + away in the affair. + </p> + <p> + Cutty resumed his pacing. The moment his imagination caught the essentials + he visualized the Odyssey. Across mountains and deserts, rivers and seas, + he followed Two-Hawks in fancy, pursued by an implacable hatred, more or + less historical, of which the lad was less a cause than an abstract + object. And Karlov—Cutty understood Karlov now—always span + near, his hate reenergizing his faltering feet. + </p> + <p> + There was evidently some iron in this Two-Hawks' blood. Fear never would + have carried him thus far. Fear would have whispered, “Futility! + Futility!” And he would have bent his head to the stroke. So then there + was resource and there was courage. And he lay in yonder room, beaten and + penniless. The top piece in the grim irony—to have come all these + thousands of miles unscathed, to be dropped at the goal. But America? + Well, that would be solved later. + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord Harry!” Cutty stopped and struck his hands together. “The + drums!” + </p> + <p> + From the hour Kitty had pronounced the name Stefani Gregor an idea had + taken lodgment, an irrepressible idea, that somewhere in this drama would + be the drums of jeopardy. The mark of the thong! Never any doubt of it + now. Those magnificent emeralds were here in New York, The mob—the + Red Guard—hammering on the doors, what would have been Two-Hawks' + most natural first thought? To gather what treasures the hand could be + laid to and flee. Here in New York, and in Karlov's hands, ultimately to + be cut up for Bolshevik propaganda! The infernal pity of it! + </p> + <p> + The passion of the gem hunter blazed forth, dimming all other phases of + the drama. Here was a real game, a man's game; sport! Cutty rubbed his + hands together pleasurably. To recover those green flames before they + could be broken up; under the ancient ruling that “Findings is keepings.” + The stones, of course, meant nothing to Karlov beyond the monetary value; + and upon this fact Cutty began developing a plan. He stood ready to buy + those stones if he could draw them into the open. Lord, how he wanted + them! Murder and loot, always murder and loot! + </p> + <p> + The thought of those two incomparable emeralds being broken up distressed + him profoundly. He must act at once, before the desecration could be + consummated. Two-Hawks—Hawksley hereafter, for the sake of + convenience—had an equity in the gems; but what of that? In + smuggling them in—and how the deuce had he done it?—he had + thrown away his legal right to them. Cutty kneaded his conscience into a + satisfactory condition of quiescence and went on with his planning. If he + succeeded in recovering the stones and his conscience bit a little too + deeply for comfort—why, he could pay over to Hawksley twenty per + cent. of the price Karlov demanded. He could take it or leave it. In a + case like this—to a bachelor without dependents—money was no + object. All his life he had wanted a fine emerald to play with, and here + was an opportunity to acquire two! + </p> + <p> + If this plan failed to draw Karlov into the open, then every jeweller and + pawnbroker in town would be notified and warned. What with the + secret-service operatives and the agents of the Department of Justice on + the watch for Karlov—who would recognize his limitations of mobility—it + was reasonable to assume that the Bolshevik would be only too glad to + dicker secretly for the disposal of the stones. Now to work. Cutty looked + at his watch. + </p> + <p> + Nearly midnight. Rather late, but he knew all the tricks of this + particular kind of game. If the advertisement appeared isolated, all the + better. The real job would be to hide his identity. He saw a way round + this difficulty. He wrote out six advertisements, all worded the same. He + figured out the cost and was delighted to find that he carried the + necessary currency. Then he got into his engineer's—dungarees, + touched up his face and hands to the required griminess, and sallied + forth. + </p> + <p> + Luck attended him until he reached the last morning newspaper on the list. + Here he was obliged to proceed to the city room—risky business. A + queer advertisement coming into the city room late at night was always + pried into, as he knew from experience. Still, he felt that he ought not + to miss any chance to reach Karlov. + </p> + <p> + He explained his business to the sleepy gate boy, who carried the + advertisement and the cash to the night city editor's desk. Ordinarily the + night city editor would have returned the advertisement with the crisp + information that he had no authority to accept advertisements. But the + “drums of jeopardy” caught his attention; and he sent a keen glance across + the busy room to the rail where Cutty stood, perhaps conspicuously. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” He called to one of the reporters. “This looks like a story. I'll + run it. Follow that guy in the overalls and see what's in it.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty appreciated the interlude for what it was worth. Someone was going + to follow him. When the gate boy returned to notify him that the + advertisement had been accepted, Cutty went down to the street. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, there; just a moment!” hailed the reporter. “I want a word with you + about that advertisement.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty came to a standstill. “I paid for it, didn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. But what's this about the drums of jeopardy?” + </p> + <p> + “Two great emeralds I'm hunting for,” explained Cutty, recalling the man + who stood on London Bridge and peddled sovereigns at two bits each, and no + buyer. + </p> + <p> + “Can it! Can it!” jeered the reporter. “Be a good sport and give us the + tip. Strike call among the city engineers?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm telling you.” + </p> + <p> + “Like Mike you are!” + </p> + <p> + “All right. It's the word to tie up the surface lines, like Newark, if you + want to know. Now, get t' hell out o' here before I hand you one on the + jaw!” + </p> + <p> + The reporter backed away. “Is that on the level?” + </p> + <p> + “Call up the barns and find out. They'll tell you what's on. And listen, + if you follow me, I'll break your head. On your way!” + </p> + <p> + The reporter dashed for the elevator—and back to the doorway in time + to see Cutty legging it for the Subway. As he was a reporter of the first + class he managed to catch the same express uptown. + </p> + <p> + On the way uptown Cutty considered that he had accomplished a shrewd bit + of work. Karlov or one of his agents would certainly see that + advertisement; and even if Karlov suspected a Federal trap he would find + some means of communicating with the issuer of the advertisement. + </p> + <p> + The thought of Kitty returned. What the dickens would she say—how + would she act—when she learned who this Hawksley was? He fervently + hoped that she had never read “Thaddeus of Warsaw.” There would be all the + difference in the world between an elegant refugee Pole and a derelict of + the Russian autocracy. Perhaps the best course to pursue would be to say + nothing at all to her about the amazing discovery. + </p> + <p> + Upon leaving Elevator Four Cutty said: “Bob, I've been followed by a sharp + reporter. Sheer him off with any tale you please, and go home. Goodnight.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll fix him, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty took a bath, put on his lounging robe, and tiptoed to the threshold + of the patient's room. The shaded light revealed the nurse asleep with a + book on her knees. The patient's eyes were closed and his breathing was + regular. He was coming along. Cutty decided to go to bed. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, when the elevator touched the ground floor, the operator + observed a prospective passenger. + </p> + <p> + “Last trip, sir. You'll have to take the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Where'll I find the engineer who went up with you just now?” + </p> + <p> + “The man I took up? Gone to bed, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “What floor?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing, bo. I'm wise. You're the fourth guy with a subpoena that's + been after him. Nix.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a lawyer's clerk. I'm a reporter, and I want to ask him a few + questions.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee! Has that Jane of his been hauling in the newspapers? Good-night! + Toddle along, bo; there's nothing coming from me. Nix.” + </p> + <p> + “Would ten dollars make you talk?” asked the reporter, desperately. + </p> + <p> + “Ye-ah—about the Kaiser and his wood-sawing. By-by!” + </p> + <p> + The operator, secretly enjoying the reporter's discomfiture, shut off the + lights, slammed the elevator door to the latch, and walked to the + revolving doors, to the tune of Garry Owen. + </p> + <p> + The reporter did not follow him but sat down on the first step of the + marble stairs to think, for there was a lot to think about. He sensed + clearly enough that all this talk about street-railway strikes and + subpoenas was rot. The elevator man and the engineer were in cahoots. + There was a story here, but how to get to it was a puzzler. He had one + chance in a hundred of landing it—tip the mail clerk in the business + office to keep an eye open for the man who called for “Double C” mail. + </p> + <p> + Eventually, the man who did call for that mail presented a card to the + mail clerk. At the bottom of this card was the name of the chief of the + United States Secret Service. + </p> + <p> + “And say to the reporter who has probably asked to watch—hands off! + Understand? Absolutely—off!” + </p> + <p> + When the reporter was informed he blew a kiss into air and sought his city + editor for his regular assignment. He understood, with the wisdom of his + calling, that one didn't go whale fishing with trout rods. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Early the next morning in a bedroom in a rooming house for aliens in + Fifteenth Street, a man sat in a chair scanning the want columns of a + newspaper. Occasionally he jotted down something on a slip of paper. This + man's job was rather an unusual one. He hunted jobs for other men—jobs + in steel mills, great factories, in the textile districts, the street-car + lines, the shipping yards and docks, any place where there might be a + grain or two of the powder of unrest and discontent. His business was to + supply the human matches. + </p> + <p> + No more parading the streets, no more haranguing from soap boxes. The + proper place nowadays was in the yard or shop corners at noontime. A word + or two dropped at the right moment; perhaps a printed pamphlet; little + wedges wherever there were men who wanted something they neither earned + nor deserved. Here and there across the land little flares, one running + into the other, like wildfire on the plains, and then—the upheaval. + As in Russia, so now in Germany; later, England and France and here. The + proletariat was gaining power. + </p> + <p> + He was no fool, this individual. He knew his clay, the day labourer, with + his parrotlike mentality. Though the victim of this peculiar potter + absorbs sounds he doesn't often absorb meanings. But he takes these sounds + and respouts them and convinces himself that he is some kind of Moses, + headed for the promised land. Inflammable stuff. Hence, the strikes which + puzzle the average intelligent American citizen. What is it all about? + Nobody seems to know. + </p> + <p> + Once upon a time men went on a strike because they were being cheated and + abused. Now they strike on the principle that it is excellent policy + always to be demanding something; it keeps capitalism where it belongs—on + the ragged edge of things. No matter what they demand they never expect to + give an equivalent; and a just cause isn't necessary. Thus the present-day + agitator has only one perplexity—that of eluding the iron hand of + the Department of Justice. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the man in the chair brought the newspaper close up and stared. + He jumped to his feet, ran out and up the next flight of stairs. He + stopped before a door and turned the knob a certain number of times. + Presently the door opened the barest crack; then it was swung wide enough + to admit the visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he whispered, indicating Cutty's advertisement. + </p> + <p> + The occupant of the room snatched the newspaper and carried it to a + window. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Will purchase the drums of jeopardy at top price. No questions + asked. Address this office. + Double C. +</pre> + <p> + “Very good. I might have missed it. We shall sell the accursed drums to + this gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Sell them? But—” + </p> + <p> + “Imbecile! What we must do is to find out who this man is. In the end he + may lead us to him.” + </p> + <p> + “But it may be a trap!” + </p> + <p> + “Leave that to me. You have work of your own to do, and you had best be + about it. Do you not see beneath? Who but the man who harbours him would + know about the drums? The man in the evening clothes. I was too far away + to see his face. Get me all the morning newspapers. If the advertisement + is in all of them I will send a letter to each. We lost the young woman + yesterday. And nothing has been heard of Vladimir and Stemmler. Bad. I do + not like this place. I move to the house to-night. My old friend Stefani + may be lonesome. I dare not risk daylight. Some fool may have talked. To + work! All of us have much to do to wake up the proletariat in this country + of the blind. But the hour will come. Get me the newspapers.” + </p> + <p> + Karlov pushed his visitor from the room and locked and bolted the door. He + stepped over to the window again and stared down at the clutter of + pushcarts, drays, trucks, and human beings that tried to go forward and + got forward only by moving sideways or worming through temporary breaches, + seldom directly—the way of humanity. But there was no object lesson + in this for Karlov, who was not philosophical in the peculiar sense of one + who was demanding a reason for everything and finding allegory and + comparison and allusion in the ebb and flow of life. The philosophical is + often misapplied to the stoical. Karlov was a stoic, not a philosopher, or + he would not have been the victim of his present obsession. The idea of + live and let live has never been the propaganda of the anarch. To the + anarch the death of some body or the destruction of some thing is the + cornerstone to his madhouse. + </p> + <p> + Nothing would ever cure this man of his obsession—the death of + Hawksley and the possession of the emeralds. Moreover, there was the + fanatical belief in his poor disordered brain that the accomplishment of + these two projects would eventually assist in the liberation of mankind. + Abnormally cunning in his methods of approach, he lacked those imaginative + scales by which we weigh our projects and which we call logic. A child + alone in a house with a box of matches; a dog on one side of Fifth Avenue + that sees a dog on the other side, but not the automobiles—inexorable + logic—irresistible force—whizzing up and down the middle of + that thoroughfare. It is not difficult to prophesy what is going to happen + to that child, that dog. + </p> + <p> + Karlov was at this moment reaching out toward a satisfactory solution + relative to the disappearance of the gems. They had not been found on his + enemy; they had not been found in the Gregor apartment; the two men + assigned to the task of securing them would not have risked certain death + by trying to do a little bargaining on their own initiative. In the first + instance they had come forth empty-handed. In the second instance—that + of intimidating the girl to disclose his whereabouts—neither + Vladimir nor Stemmler had returned. Sinister. The man in the dress suit + again? + </p> + <p> + Conceivably, then, the drums were in the possession of this girl; and she + was holding them against the day when the fugitive would reclaim them. The + advertisement was a snare. Very good. Two could play that game as well as + one. + </p> + <p> + The girl. Was it not always so? That breed! God's curse on them all! A + crooked finger, and the women followed, hypnotized. The girl was away from + the apartment the major part of the day; so it was in order to search her + rooms. A pretty little fool. + </p> + <p> + But where were they hiding him? Gall and wormwood! That he should slip + through Boris Karlov's fingers, after all these tortuous windings across + the world! Patience. Sooner or later the girl would lead the way. Still, + patience was a galling hobble when he had so little time, when even now + they might be hunting him. Boris Karlov had left New York rather well + known. + </p> + <p> + He expanded under this thought. For the spiritual breath of life to the + anarch is flattery, attention. Had the newspapers ignored Trotzky's advent + into Russia, had they omitted the daily chronicle of his activities, the + Russian problem would not be so large as it is this day. Trotzky would + have died of chagrin. + </p> + <p> + He would answer this advertisement. Trap? He would set one himself. The + man who eventually came to negotiate would be made a prisoner and forced + to disclose the identity of the man who had interfered with the great + projects of Boris Karlov, plenipotentiary extraordinary for the red + government of Russia. + </p> + <p> + Midtown, Cutty tapped his breakfast egg dubiously. Not that he speculated + upon the freshness of the egg. What troubled him was that advertisement. + Last night, keyed high by his remarkable discovery of the identity of his + guest and his cupidity relative to the emeralds, he had laid himself open. + If he knew anything at all about the craft, that reporter would be digging + in. Fortunately he had resources unsuspected by the reporter. Legitimately + he could send a secret-service operative to collect the mail—if + Karlov decided to negotiate. Still within his rights, he could use another + operative to conduct the negotiations. If in the end Karlov strayed into + the net the use of the service for private ends would be justified. + </p> + <p> + Lord, those green stones! Well, why not? Something in the world worth a + hazard. What had he in life but this second grand passion? There shot into + his mind obliquely an irrelevant question. Supposing, in the old days, he + had proceeded to reach for Molly as he was now reaching for the emeralds—a + bit lawlessly? After all these years, to have such a thought strike him! + Hadn't he stepped aside meekly for Conover? Hadn't he observed and envied + Conover's dazzling assault? Supposing Molly had been wavering, and this + method of attack had decided her? Never to have thought of that before! + What did a woman want? A love storm, and then an endless after-calm. And + it had taken him twenty-odd years to make this discovery. + </p> + <p> + Fact. He had never been shy of women. He had somehow preferred to play + comrade instead of gallant; and all the women had taken advantage of that, + used him callously to pair with old maids, faded wives, and homely + debutantes. + </p> + <p> + What impellent was driving him toward these introspections? Kitty, Molly's + girl. Each time he saw her or thought of her—the uninvited ghost of + her mother. Any other man upon seeing Kitty or thinking about her would + have jumped into the future from the spring of a dream. The disparity in + years would not have mattered. It was all nonsense, of course. But for his + dropping into the office and casually picking up the thread of his + acquaintance with Kitty, Molly—the memory of her—would have + gone on dimming. Actions, tremendous and world-wide, had set his vision + toward the future; he had been too busy to waste time in retrospection and + introspection. Thus, instead of a gently rising and falling tide, + healthily recurrent, a flood of mixed longings that was swirling him into + uncertain depths. Those emeralds had bobbed up just in time. The chase + would serve to pull him out of this bog. + </p> + <p> + He heard a footstep and looked up. The nurse was beckoning to him. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “He's awake, and there is sanity in his eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Great! Has he talked?” + </p> + <p> + “No. The awakening happened just this moment, and I came to you. You never + can tell about blows on the skull or brain fever—never any two eases + alike.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty threw down his napkin and accompanied the nurse to the bedside. The + glance of the patient trailed from Cutty to the nurse and back. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk,” said Cutty. “Don't ask any questions. Take it easy until + later in the day. You are in the hands of persons who wish you well. Eat + what the nurse gives you. When the right time comes we'll tell you all + about ourselves, You've been robbed and beaten. But the men who did it are + under arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “One question,” said the patient, weakly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, just one.” + </p> + <p> + “A girl—who gave me something to eat?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She fed you, and later probably your life.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” Hawksley closed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Cutty and the nurse watched him interestedly for a few minutes; but as he + did not stir again the nurse took up her temperature sheet and Cutty + returned to his eggs. Was there a girl? No question about the emeralds, no + interest in the day and the hour. Was there a girl? The last person he had + seen, Kitty; the first question, after coming into the light: Had he seen + her? Then and there Cutty knew that when he died he would carry into the + Beyond, of all his earthly possessions—a chuckle. Human beings! + </p> + <p> + The yarn that reporter had missed by a hair—front page, eight-column + head! But he had missed it, and that was the main thing. The poor devil! + Beaten and without a sou marque in his pockets, his trail was likely to be + crowded without the assistance of any newspaper publicity. But what a + yarn! What a whale of a yarn! + </p> + <p> + In his fevered flights Hawksley had spoken of having paid Kitty for that + meal. + </p> + <p> + Kitty had said nothing about it. Supposing— + </p> + <p> + “Telephone, sair,” announced the Jap. “Lady.” + </p> + <p> + Molly's girl! Cutty sprinted to the telephone. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! That you, Kitty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. How is Johnny Two-Hawks?” + </p> + <p> + “Back to earth.” + </p> + <p> + “When can I see him? I'm just crazy to know what the story is!” + </p> + <p> + “Say the third or fourth day from this. We'll have him shaved and sitting + up then.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he talked?” + </p> + <p> + “Not permitted. Still determined to stay the run of your lease?” Cutty + heard a laugh. “All right. Only I hope you will never have cause to regret + this decision.” + </p> + <p> + “Fiddlesticks! All I've got to do in danger is to press a button, and + presto! here's Bernini.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, did Hawksley pay you for that meal?” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, no! What makes you ask that?” + </p> + <p> + “In his delirium he spoke of having paid you. I didn't know.” Cutty's + heart began to rap against his ribs. Supposing, after all, Karlov hadn't + the stones? Supposing Hawksley had hidden them somewhere in Kitty's + kitchen? + </p> + <p> + “Anything about Gregor?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Remember, you're to call me up twice a day and report the news. Don't + go out nights if you can avoid it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be good,” Kitty agreed. “And now I must hie me to the job. Imagine, + Cutty!—writing personalities about stage folks and gabfesting with + Burlingame and all the while my brain boiling with this affair! The city + room will kill me, Cutty, if it ever finds out that I held back such a + yarn. But it wouldn't be fair to Johnny Two-Hawks. Cutty, did you know + that your wonderful drums of jeopardy are here in New York?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” barked Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody is offering to buy them. There was an advertisement in the paper + this morning. Cutty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “The first problem in arithmetic is two and two make four. By-by!” + </p> + <p> + Dizzily Cutty hung up the receiver. He had not reckoned on the possibility + of Kitty seeing that damfool advertisement. Two and two made four; and + four and four made eight; so on indefinitely. That is to say, Kitty + already had a glimmer of the startling truth. The initial misstep on his + part had been made upon her pronouncement of the name Stefani Gregor. He + hadn't been able to control his surprise. And yesterday, having frankly + admitted that he knew Gregor, all that was needed to complete the circle + was that advertisement. Cutty tore his hair, literally. The very door he + hoped she might overlook he had thrown open to her. + </p> + <p> + Thaddeus of Warsaw. But it should not be. He would continue to offer a + haven to that chap; but no nonsense. None of that sinister and unfortunate + blood should meddle with Kitty Conover's happiness. Her self-appointed + guardian would attend to that. + </p> + <p> + He realized that his attitude was rather inexplicable; but there were some + adventures which hypnotized women; and one of this sort was now unfolding + for Kitty. That she had her share of common sense was negligible in face + of the facts that she was imaginative and romantical and adventuresome, + and that for the first time she was riding one of the great middle + currents in human events. She was Molly's girl; Cutty was going to look + out for her. + </p> + <p> + Mighty odd that this fear for her should have sprung into being that + night, quite illogically. Prescience? He could not say. Perhaps it was a + borrowed instinct—fatherly; the same instinct that would have + stirred her father into action—the protection of that dearest to + him. + </p> + <p> + If he told her who Hawksley really was, that would intrigue her. If he + made a mystery of the affair, that, too, would intrigue her. And there you + were, 'twixt the devil and the deep blue sea. Hang it, what evil luck had + stirred him to tell her about those emeralds? Already she was building a + story to satisfy her dramatic fancy. Two and two made four—which + signified that she was her father's daughter, that she would not rest + until she had explored every corner of this dark room. Wanting to keep her + out of it, and then dragging her into it through his cupidity. Devil take + those emeralds! Always the same; trouble wherever they were. + </p> + <p> + The real danger would rise during the convalescence. Kitty would be + contriving to drop in frequently; not to see Hawksley especially, but her + initial success in playing hide and seek with secret agents, friendly and + otherwise, had tickled her fancy. For a while it would be an exciting + game; then it might become only a means to an end. Well, it should not be. + </p> + <p> + Was there a girl! Already Hawksley had recorded her beauty. Very well; the + first sign of sentimental nonsense, and out he should go, Karlov or no + Karlov. Kitty wasn't going to know any hurt in this affair. That much was + decided. + </p> + <p> + Cutty stormed into his study, growling audibly. He filled a pipe and + smoked savagely. Another side, Kitty's entrance into the drama promised to + spoil his own fun; he would have to play two games instead of one. A fine + muddle! + </p> + <p> + He came to a stand before one of the windows and saw the glory of the + morning flashing from the myriad spires and towers and roofs, and wondered + why artists bothered about cows in pastures. + </p> + <p> + Touching his knees was an antique Florentine bridal chest, with exquisite + carving and massive lock. He threw back the lid and disclosed a miscellany + never seen by any eye save his own. It was all the garret he had. He dug + into it and at length resurrected the photograph of a woman whose face was + both roguish and beautiful. He sat on the floor a la Turk and studied the + face, his own tender and wistful. No resemblance to Kitty except in the + eyes. How often he had gone to her with the question burning his lips, + only to carry it away unspoken! He turned over the photograph and read: + “To the nicest man I know. With love from Molly.” With love. And he had + stepped aside for Tommy Conover! + </p> + <p> + By George! He dropped the photograph into the chest, let down the lid, and + rose to his feet. Not a bad idea, that. To intrigue Kitty himself, to + smother her with attentions and gallantries, to give her out of his wide + experience, and to play the game until this intruder was on his way + elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + He could do it; and he based his assurance upon his experiences and + observations. Never a squire of dames, he knew the part. He had played the + game occasionally in the capitals of Europe when there had been some + information he had particularly desired. Clever, scheming women, too. A + clever, passably good-looking elderly man could make himself peculiarly + attractive to young women and women in the thirties. Dazzlement for the + young; the man who knew all about life, the trivial little courtesies a + younger man generally forgot; the moving of chairs, the holding of wraps; + the gray hairs which served to invite trust and confidence, which lulled + the eternal feminine fear of the male. To the older women, no callow youth + but a man of discernment, discretion, wit and fancy and daring, who + remembered birthdays husbands forgot, who was always round when wanted. + </p> + <p> + There was no vanity back of these premises. Cutty was merely reaching + about for an expedient to thwart what to his anticipatory mind promised to + be an inevitability. Of course the glamour would not last; it never did, + but he felt he could sustain it until yonder chap was off and away. + </p> + <p> + That evening at five-thirty Kitty received a box of beautiful roses, with + Cutty's card. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the lovely things!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + She kissed them and set them in a big copper jug, arranged and rearranged + them for the simple pleasure it afforded her. What a dear man this Cutty + was, to have thought of her in this fashion! Her father's friend, her + mother's, and now hers; she had inherited him. This thought caused her to + smile, but there were tears in her eyes. A garden some day to play in, + this mad city far away, a home of her own; would it ever happen? + </p> + <p> + The bell rang. She wasn't going to like this caller for taking her away + from these roses, the first she had received in a long time—roses + she could keep and not toss out the window. For it must not be understood + that Kitty was never besieged. + </p> + <p> + Outside stood a well-dressed gentleman, older than Cutty, with shrewd, + inquiring gray eyes and a face with strong salients. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, but I am looking for a man by the name of Stephen Gregory. I + was referred by the janitor to you. You are Miss Conover?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Kitty. “Will you come in?” She ushered the stranger into + the living room and indicated a chair. “Please excuse me for a moment.” + Kitty went into her bedroom and touched the danger button, which would + summon Bernini. She wanted her watchdog to see the visitor. She returned + to the living room. “What is it you wish to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Where I may find this Gregory.” + </p> + <p> + “That nobody seems able to answer. He was carried away from here in an + ambulance; but we have been unable to locate the hospital. If you will + leave your name—” + </p> + <p> + “That is not necessary. I am out of bounds, you might say, and I'd rather + my name should be left out of the affair, which is rather peculiar.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “I am only an agent, and am not at liberty to speak. Could you describe + Gregory?” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is a stranger to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty described Gregor deliberately and at length. It struck her that the + visitor was becoming bored, though he nodded at times. She was glad to + hear Bernini's ring. She excused herself to admit the Italian. + </p> + <p> + “A false alarm,” she whispered. “Someone inquiring for Gregor. I thought + it might be well for you to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll work the radiator stuff.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + Bernini went into the living room and fussed over the steam cock of the + radiator. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing the matter with it, miss. Just stuck.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry to have troubled you,” said the stranger, rising and picking up his + hat. + </p> + <p> + Bernini went down to the basement, obfuscated; for he knew the visitor. He + was one of the greatest bankers in New York—that is to say, in + America! Asking questions about Stefani Gregor! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + About nine o'clock that same night a certain rich man, having established + himself comfortably under the reading lamp, a fine book in his hands and a + fine after-dinner cigar between his teeth, was exceedingly resentful when + his butler knocked, entered, and presented a card. + </p> + <p> + “My orders were that I was not at home to any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. But he said you would see him because he came to see you + regarding a Mr. Gregory.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn these newspapers!... Wait, wait!” the banker called, for the butler + was starting for the door to carry the anathema to the appointed head. + “Bring him in. He's a big bug, and I can't afford to affront him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir”—with the colourless tone of a perfect servant. + </p> + <p> + When the visitor entered he stopped just beyond the threshold. He remained + there even after the butler closed the door. Blue eye and gray clashed; + two masters of fence who had executed the same stroke. The banker laughed + and Cutty smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said the banker, “you and I ought to sign an armistice, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed.” + </p> + <p> + “And you've always been rather a puzzle to me. A rich man, a gentleman, + and yet sticking to the newspaper game.” + </p> + <p> + “And you're a puzzle to me, too. A rich man, a gentleman, and yet sticking + to the banking game.” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil was our row about?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't quite recall.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever it was it was the way you went at it.” + </p> + <p> + “A reform was never yet accomplished by purring and pussyfooting,” said + Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “Come over and sit down. Now, how the devil did you find out about this + Gregory affair?” The banker held out his hand, which Cutty grasped with + honest pressure. “If you are here in the capacity of a newspaper man, not + a word out of me. Have a cigar?” + </p> + <p> + “I never smoke anything but pipes that ruin curtains. You should have + given your name to Miss Conover.” + </p> + <p> + “I was under promise not to explain my business. But before we proceed, an + answer. Newspaper?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I represent the Department of Justice. And we'll get along easier + when I add that I possess rather unlimited powers under that head. How did + you happen to stumble into this affair?” + </p> + <p> + “Through Captain Rathbone, my prospective son-in-law, who is in Coblenz. A + cable arrived this morning, instructing me to proceed precisely in the + manner I did. Rathbone is an intimate friend of the man I was actually + seeking. The apartment of this man Gregory was mentioned to Rathbone in a + cable as a possible temporary abiding place. What do you want to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Whether or not he is undesirable.” + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly, I should say, desirable.” + </p> + <p> + “You make that statement as an American citizen?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I make it unreservedly because my future son-in-law is rather a + difficult man to make friends with. I am acting merely as Rathbone's + agent. On the other hand, I should be a cheerful liar if I told you I + wasn't interested. What do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” answered Cutty, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “You know where this young man is?” + </p> + <p> + “At this moment he is in my apartment, rather seriously battered and + absolutely penniless.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be tinker-dammed! You know who he is, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And I want all your information so that I may guide my future + actions accordingly. If he is really undesirable he shall be deported the + moment he can stand on his two feet.” + </p> + <p> + The banker pyramided his fingers, rather pleased to learn that he could + astonish this interesting beggar. “He has on account at my bank half a + million dollars. Originally he had eight hundred thousand. The three + hundred thousand, under cable orders from Yokohama, was transferred to our + branch in San Francisco. This was withdrawn about two weeks ago. How does + that strike you?” + </p> + <p> + “All in a heap,” confessed Cutty. “When was this fund established with + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Shortly before Kerensky's government blew up. The funds were in our + London bank. There was, of course, a lot of red tape, excessive charges in + exchange, and all that. Anyhow, about eight hundred thousand arrived.” + </p> + <p> + “What brought him to America? Why didn't he go to England? That would have + been the safest haven.” + </p> + <p> + “I can explain that. He intends to become an American citizen. Some time + ago he became the owner of a fine cattle ranch in Montana.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be tinker-dammed, too!” exploded Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “A young man with these ideas in his head ought eventually to become a + first-rate citizen. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I am considerably relieved. His forbears, the blood—” + </p> + <p> + “His mother was a healthy Italian peasant—a famous singer in her + time. His fortune, I take it, was his inheritance from her. She made a + fortune singing in the capitals of Europe and speculating from time to + time. She sent the boy, at the age of ten, to England. Afraid of the home + influence. He remained there, under the name of Hawksley, for something + like fourteen years, under the guardianship of this fellow Gregory. Of + Gregory I know positively nothing. The young fellow is, to all purposes, + methods of living, points of view, an Englishman. Rathbone, who was + educated at Oxford, met him there and they shared quarters. But it was + only in recent years that he learned the identity of his friend. In 1914 + the young fellow returned to Russia. Military obligations. That's all I + know. Mighty interesting, though.” + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged to you. The white elephant becomes a normal drab + pachyderm,” said Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “Still something of an elephant on your hands. I see. Bring him here if + you wish.” + </p> + <p> + “And sic the Bolshevik at your door.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so. You spoke of his having been beaten and robbed. Bolshevik?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. An old line of reasoning first put into effect by Oliver Cromwell. + The axe.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor devil!” + </p> + <p> + “Fact. I'm sorry for him, but I wish he would blow away conveniently.” + </p> + <p> + “Rathbone says he's handsome, gay, but decent, considering. Humanity is + being knocked about some. The hour has come for our lawyers to go back to + their offices. Politics must step aside for business. We ought to hang up + signs in every state capitol in the country: 'Men Wanted—Specialists.' + A steel man from Pittsburgh, a mining man from Idaho, a shipowner from + Boston, a meat packer from Omaha, a grain man from Chicago. What the devil + do lawyers know about these things—the energies that make the wheels + of this country go round? By the way, that Miss Conover was a remarkably + pretty girl. She seemed to be a bit suspicious of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Good reasons. That chap went to Gregor's—Gregor is his name—and + was beaten, robbed, and left for dead. She saved his life.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord! Does she know?” + </p> + <p> + “No. And what's more, I don't want her to. I am practically her guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you ought to get her out of that roost.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang it, I can't get her to leave. I'm not legally her guardian; + self-appointed. But she has agreed to leave in May.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you dropped in. Command me in any way you please.” + </p> + <p> + “That's very good of you, considering.” + </p> + <p> + “The war is over. We'd be a fine pair of fools to let an ancient grudge go + on. They tell me you've a wonderful apartment on top of that skyscraper of + yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you come to dinner some night?” + </p> + <p> + “Any time you say. I should like to bring my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “She doesn't know?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Heard of Hawksley; thinks he's English.” + </p> + <p> + “I am certainly agreeable.” This would be a distinct advantage to Kitty. + “I see you have a good book there. I'll take myself off.” + </p> + <p> + In the Avenue Cutty loaded his pipe. He struck a match on the flagstone + and cupped it over the bowl of his pipe, thereby throwing his picturesque + countenance into ruddy relief. Opposite emotions filled the hearts of the + two men watching him—in one, chagrin; in the other, exultation. + </p> + <p> + Cutty decided to walk downtown, the night being fine. He set his foot to a + long, swinging stride. An elephant on his hands, truly. Poor devil, for a + fad! Nobody wanted him, not even those who wished him well. Wanted to + become an American citizen. He would have been tolerably safe in England. + Here he would never be free of danger. A ranch. The beggar would have a + chance out there in the West. The anarchist and the Bolshevik were town + cooties. His one chance, actually. The poor devil! Kitty had the right + idea. It was a mighty fine thing, these times, to be a citizen under the + protection of the American doctrine. + </p> + <p> + Three hundred thousand! And Karlov had got that along with the drums. The + devil's own for luck! The fool would be able to start some fine ructions + with all that capital behind him. Episodes in the night. + </p> + <p> + Kitty dreamed of wonderful rose gardens, endless and changing; but strive + as she would she could not find Cutty anywhere, which worried her, even in + her dream. + </p> + <p> + The nurse heard the patient utter a single word several times before he + fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Fan!” And he smiled. + </p> + <p> + She hunted for the palm leaf, but with a slight gesture he signified that + that was not what he wanted. + </p> + <p> + Cutty played solitaire with his chrysoprase until the telephone broke in + upon his reveries. What he heard over the wire disturbed him greatly. + </p> + <p> + “You were followed from the Avenue to the apartment.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I am Henderson. You assigned me to watch the apartment in Eightieth + through the night. I followed the man who followed you. He saw your face + when you lit the pipe. When the banker left Miss Conover he was followed + home. That established him in the affair. The follower hung round, and so + did I. You appeared. He took a chance shot in the dark. Not sure, but + doing a bit of clever guessing.” + </p> + <p> + “You still followed him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did he wind up?” + </p> + <p> + “A house in the warehouse district. Vacant warehouses on each side. Some + new nest. I can lead you to it, sir, any time you wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty pushed aside the telephone and returned to his green stones. After + all, why worry? It was unfortunate, of course, but the apartment was more + inaccessible than the top of the Matterhorn. Still, they might discover + what his real business was and interfere seriously with his future work on + the other side. A ruin in the warehouse district? A good place to look for + Stefani Gregor—if he were still alive. + </p> + <p> + He was. And in his dark room he cried piteously for water—water—water! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + A March day, sunny and cloudless, with fresh, bracing winds. Green things + pushed up from the soil; an eternal something was happening to the tips of + the tree branches; an eternal something was happening in young hearts. A + robin shook the dust of travel from his wings and bathed publicly in a + park basin. + </p> + <p> + Here and there under the ten thousand roofs of the great city poets were + busy with inkpots, trying to say an old thing in a new way. Woe to the + pinched soul that did not expand this day, for it was spring. Expansion! + Nature—perhaps she was relenting a little, perhaps she saw that + humanity was sliding down the scale, withering, and a bit of extra + sunshine would serve to check the descension and breed a little optimism. + </p> + <p> + Cutty's study. The sunlight, thrown westward, turned windows and roofs and + towers into incomparable bijoux. The double reflection cast a white light + into the room, lifting out the blue and old-rose tints of the Ispahan rug. + </p> + <p> + Cutty shifted the chrysoprase, irresolutely for him. A dozen problems, and + it was mighty hard to decide which to tackle first. Principally there was + Kitty. He had not seen her in four days, deeming it advisable for her not + to call for the present. The Bolshevik agent who had followed him from the + banker's might decide, without the aid of some connecting episode, that he + had wasted his time. + </p> + <p> + It did not matter that Kitty herself was no longer watched and followed + from her home to the office, from the office home. Was Karlov afraid or + had he some new trick up his sleeve? It was not possible that he had given + up Hawksley. He was probably planning an attack from some unexpected + angle. To be sure that Karlov would not find reason to associate him with + Kitty, Cutty had remained indoors during the daytime and gone forth at + night in his dungarees. + </p> + <p> + Problem Two was quite as formidable. The secret agent who had passed as a + negotiator for the drums of jeopardy had disappeared. That had sinister + significance. Karlov did not intend to sell the drums; merely wanted + precise information regarding the man who had advertised for them. If the + secret-service man weakened under torture, Cutty recognized that his own + usefulness would be at an end. He would have to step aside and let the + great currents sweep on without him. In that event these fifty-two years + would pile upon his head, full measure; for the only thing that kept him + vigorous was action, interest. Without some great incentive he would + shrivel up and blow away—like some exhumed mummy. + </p> + <p> + Problem Three. How the deuce was he going to fascinate Kitty if he + couldn't see her? But there was a bit of silver lining here. If he + couldn't see her, what chance had Hawksley? The whole sense and prompting + of this problem was to keep Kitty and Hawksley apart. How this was + accomplished was of no vital importance. Problem Three, then, hung fire + for the present. Funny, how this idea stuck in his head, that Hawksley was + a menace to Kitty. One of those fool ideas, probably, but worth trying + out. + </p> + <p> + Problem Four. That night, all on his own, he would make an attempt to + enter that old house sandwiched between the two vacant warehouses. Through + pressure of authority he had obtained keys to both warehouses. There would + be a trap on the roof of that house. Doubtless it would be covered with + tin; fairly impregnable if latched below. But he could find out. From the + third-floor windows of either warehouse the drop was not more than six + feet. If anywhere in town poor old Stefani Gregor would be in one of those + rooms. But to storm the house frontally, without being absolutely sure, + would be folly. Gregor would be killed. The house was in fact an insane + asylum, occupied by super-insane men. Warned, they were capable of blowing + the house to kingdom come, themselves with it. + </p> + <p> + Problem Five was a mere vanishing point. He doubted if he would ever see + those emeralds. What an infernal pity! + </p> + <p> + He built a coronet and leaned back, a wisp of smoke darting up from the + bowl of his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you know, but that's a ripping game to play!” drawled a tired + voice over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Cutty turned his head, to behold Hawksley, shaven, pale, and handsome, + wrapped in a bed quilt and swaying slightly. + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce are you doing out of your room?” growled Cutty, but with + the growl of a friendly dog. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley dropped into a chair weakly. “End of my rope. Got to talk to + someone. Go dotty, else. Questions. Skull aches with 'em. Want to know + whether this is a foretaste of the life I have a right to live—or + the beginning of death. Be a good sport, and let's have it out.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it you wish to know?” asked Cutty, gently. The poor beggar! + </p> + <p> + “Where I am. Who you are. What happened to me. What is going to happen to + me,” rather breathlessly. “Don't want any more suspense. Don't want to + look over my shoulder any more. Straight ahead. All the cards on the + table, please.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty rose and pushed the invalid's chair to a window and drew another up + beside it. + </p> + <p> + “My word, the top of the world! Bally odd roost.” + </p> + <p> + “You will find it safer here than you would on the shores of Kaspuskoi + More,” replied Cutty, gravely. “The Caspian wouldn't be a healthy place + for you now.” + </p> + <p> + With wide eyes Hawksley stared across the shining, wavering roofs. A + pause. “What do you know?” he asked, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Everything. But wait!” Cutty fetched one of the photographs and laid it + upon the young man's knees. “Know who this is—Two-Hawks?” + </p> + <p> + A strained, tense gesture as Hawksley seized the photograph; then his chin + sank slowly to his chest. A moment later Cutty was profoundly astonished + to see something sparkle on its way down the bed quilt. Tears! + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry!” cried Cutty, troubled and embarrassed. “I'm terribly sorry! I + should have had the decency to wait a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, thank you!” Hawksley flung up his head. “Nothing in all + God's muddied world could be more timely—the face of my mother! I am + not ashamed of these tears. I am not afraid to die. I am not even afraid + to live. But all the things I loved—the familiar earth, the human + beings, my dog—gone. I am alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” repeated Cutty, a bit choked up. This was honest misery and + it affected him deeply. He felt himself singularly drawn. + </p> + <p> + “I want to live. Because I am young? No. I want to prove to the shades of + those who loved me that I am fit to go on. So my identity is known to + you?”—dejectedly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You wish me to forget what I know?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you?”—eagerly. “Will you forget that I am anything but a + naked, friendless human being?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But your enemies know.” + </p> + <p> + “I rather fancy they will keep the truth to themselves. Let them publish + my identity, and a hundred havens would be offered. Your Government would + protect me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is doing so now, indirectly. But why do you not want it known?” + </p> + <p> + “Freedom! Would I have it if known? Could I trust anybody? Would it not be + essentially the old life in a new land? I want a new life in a new land. I + want to be born again. I want to be what you patently are, an American. + That is why I risked life a hundred times in coming all these miles, why I + sit in this chair before you, with the room rocking because they battered + in my head. I do not offer a human wreck, an illiterate mind, in exchange + for citizenship. I bring a tolerably decent manhood. Try me! Always I have + admired you people. Always we Russians have. But there is no Russia now + that I can ever return to!” Hawksley's head drooped again and his + bloodshot eyes closed. + </p> + <p> + Cutty sensed confusion, indecision; all his deductions were upset in the + face of this strange appeal. Russian, born of an Italian mother and + speaking Oxford English as if it were his birthright; and wanting + citizenship! Wasn't ashamed of his tears; wasn't afraid to die or to live! + Cutty searched quickly for a new handhold to his antagonism, but he found + only straws. He was honest enough to realize that he had built this + antagonism upon a want, a desire; there was no foundation for it. + Downright likeable. A chap who had gone through so much, who was in such a + pitiable condition, would not have the wit to manufacture character, + camouflage his soul. + </p> + <p> + “Hang it!” he said, briskly. “You shall have your chance. Talk like that + will carry a man anywhere in this country. You shall stay here until you + are strong again. Then some night I'll put you on your train for Montana. + You want to ask questions. I'll save you the trouble by telling you what I + know.” + </p> + <p> + But his narrative contained no mention of the emeralds. Why? A bit + conscience-stricken because, if he could, he was going to rob his guest on + the basis that findings is keepings? Cutty wasn't ready to analyze the + omission. Perhaps he wanted Hawksley himself to inquire about the stones; + test him out. If he asked frankly that would signify that he had brought + the stones in honestly, paid his obligations to the Customs. Otherwise, + smuggling; and in that event conscience wouldn't matter; the emeralds + became a game anybody could take a hand in—anybody who considered + the United States Customs an infringement upon human rights. + </p> + <p> + What a devil of a call those stones had for him! Did they mean anything to + Hawksley aside from their intrinsic value? But for the nebulous idea, + originally, that the emeralds were mixed up somewhere in this adventure, + Cutty knew that he would have sent Hawksley to a hospital, left him to his + fate, and never known who he was. + </p> + <p> + All through the narration Hawksley listened motionless, with his eyes + closed, possibly to keep the wavering instability of the walls from + interfering with his assimilation of this astonishing series of fact. + </p> + <p> + “Found you insensible on the floor,” concluded Cutty, “hoisted you to my + shoulders, took you to the street—and here you are!” + </p> + <p> + Hawksley opened his eyes. “I say, you know, what a devil of an old + Sherlock you must be! And you carried me on your shoulders across that + fire escape? Ripping! When I stepped back into that room I heard a rushing + sound. I knew! But I didn't have the least chance.... You and that bully + girl!” + </p> + <p> + Cutty swore under his breath. He had taken particular pains to avoid + mentioning Kitty; and here, first off, the fat was in the fire. He + remembered now that he had told Hawksley that Kitty had saved his life. + Fortunately, the chap wasn't keen enough with that banged-up head of his + to apply reason to the omission. + </p> + <p> + “Saved my life. Suppose she doesn't want me to know.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty jumped at this. “Doesn't care to be mixed up with the Bolshevik end + of it. Besides, she doesn't know who you are.” + </p> + <p> + “The fewer that know the better. But I'll always remember her kindness and + that bally pistol with the fan in it. But you? Why did you bother to bring + me up here?” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't decently leave you where Karlov could get to you again.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Stefani Gregor dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know; probably not. But we are hunting for him.” Cutty had not + explained his interest in Gregor. Those plaguey stones again. They were + demoralizing him. Loot. + </p> + <p> + “You spoke of Karlov. Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the man who followed you across half the world.” + </p> + <p> + “There were many. What is he like?” + </p> + <p> + “A gorilla.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Hawksley became galvanized and extended his fists. “God let me live + long enough to put my hands on him! I had the chance the other day—to + blot out his face with my boots! But I couldn't do it! I couldn't do it!” + He sagged in the chair. “No, no! Just a bit groggy. All right in a + moment.” + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord Harry, I'll see you through. Now buck up. Hear that?” cried + Cutty, throwing up a window. + </p> + <p> + “Music.” + </p> + <p> + “Look through that street there. See the glint of bayonets? American + soldiers, marching up Fifth Avenue, thousands of them, freemen who broke + the vaunted Hindenburg Line. God bless 'em! Americans, every mother's son + of 'em; who went away laughing, who returned laughing, who will go back to + their jobs laughing. The ability to laugh, that's America. Do you know how + to laugh?” + </p> + <p> + “I used to. I'm jolly weak just now. But I'll grin if you want me to.” And + Hawksley grinned. + </p> + <p> + “That's the way. A grin in this country will take you quite as far. All + right. In five years you'll be voting. I'll see to that. Now back to bed + with you, and no more leaving it until the nurse says so. What you need is + rest.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty sent a call to the nurse, who was standing undecidedly in the + doorway; and together they put the derelict back to bed. Then Cutty + fetched the photograph and set it on top of the dresser, where Hawksley + could see it. + </p> + <p> + “Now, no more gallivanting about.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise, old top. This bed is a little bit of all right. I say!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “How long am I to be here?” + </p> + <p> + “If you're good, two weeks,” interposed the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Two weeks? I say, would you mind doing me a trifling favour? I'd like a + violin to amuse myself with.” + </p> + <p> + “A fiddle? I don't know a thing about 'em except that they sound good.” + Cutty pulled at his chin. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever it costs I'll reimburse you the day I'm up.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll bring you a bundle of them, and you can do your own + selecting.” + </p> + <p> + Out in the corridor the nurse said: “I couldn't hold him. But he'll be + easier now that he's got the questions off his mind. He will have to be + humoured a lot. That's one of the characteristics of head wounds.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + “He seems to be gentle and patient; and I imagine he's hard to resist when + he wants anything. Winning, you'd call it. I suppose I mustn't ask who he + really is?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Poor devil. The fewer that know, the better. I'll be home round + three.” + </p> + <p> + Once in the street, Cutty was besieged suddenly with the irresistible + desire to mingle with the crowd over in the Avenue, to hear the military + bands, the shouts, to witness the gamut of emotions which he knew would + attend this epochal day. Of course he would view it all from the aloof + vantage of the historian, and store away commentaries against future + needs. + </p> + <p> + And what a crowd it was! He was elbowed and pushed, jostled and trod on, + carried into the surges, relegated to the eddies; and always the metallic + taptap of steel-shod boots on the asphalt, the bayonets throwing back the + radiant sunshine in sharp, clear flashes. The keen, joyous faces of those + boys. God, to be young like that! To have come through that hell on earth + with the ability still to smile! Cutty felt the tears running down his + cheeks. Instinctively he knew that this was to be his last thrill of this + order. He was fifty-two. + </p> + <p> + “Quit your crowding there!” barked a voice under his chin. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, but it's those behind me,” said Cutty, looking down into a florid + countenance with a raggedy gray moustache and a pair of blue eyes that + were blinking. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so damned short I can't see anything!” + </p> + <p> + “Neither can I.” + </p> + <p> + “You could if you wiped your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “You're crying yourself,” declared Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “Blinking jackass! Got anybody out there?” + </p> + <p> + “All of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “I get you, old son of a gun! No flesh and blood, but they're ours all the + same. Couple of old fools; huh?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure pop! What right have two old codgers got here, anyhow? What brought + you out?” + </p> + <p> + “What brought you?” + </p> + <p> + “Same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn it! If I could only see something!” + </p> + <p> + Cutty put his hands upon the shoulders of this chance acquaintance and + propelled him toward the curb. There were cries of protest, curses, + catcalls, but Cutty bored on ahead until he got his man where he could see + the tin hats, the bayonets, and the colours; and thus they stood for a + full hour. Each time the flag went by the little man yanked off his derby + and turned truculently to see that Cutty did the same. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he said as they finally dropped back, “I'd offer to buy a drink, + only it sounds flat.” + </p> + <p> + “And it would taste flat after a mighty wine like this,” replied Cutty. + “Maybe you've heard of the nectar of the gods. Well, you've just drunk it, + my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I sure have. Those kids out there, smiling after all that hell; and you + and me on the sidewalk, blubbering over 'em! What's the answer? We're + Americans!” + </p> + <p> + “You said it. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty pressed on to the flow and went along with it, lighter in the heart + than he had been in many a day. These two million who lined Fifth Avenue, + who cheered, laughed, wept, went silent, cheered again, what did their + presence here signify? That America's day had come; that as a people they + were homogeneous at last; that that which laws had failed to bring forth + had been accomplished by an ideal. + </p> + <p> + Bolshevism, socialism—call it what you will—would beat itself + into fragments against this Rock of Democracy, which went down to the + centre of the world and whose pinnacle touched the stars. Reincarnation; + the simple ideals of the forefathers restored. And with this knowledge + tingling in his thoughts—and perhaps there was a bit of spring in + his heart—Cutty continued on, without destination, chin jutting, + eyes shining. He was an American! + </p> + <p> + He might have continued on indefinitely had he not seen obliquely a window + filled with musical instruments. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley's fiddle! He had all but forgotten. All right. If the poor beggar + wanted to scrape a fiddle, scrape it he should. The least he, Cutty, could + do would be to accede to any and every whim Hawksley expressed. Wasn't he + planning to rob the beggar of the drums, happen they ever turned up? But + how the deuce to pick out a fiddle which would have a tune in it? Of all + the hypercritical duffers the fiddler was the worst. Beside a fiddler of + the first rank the rich old maid with the poodle was a hail fellow well + met. + </p> + <p> + Of course Gregor had taught the chap. That meant he would know instantly; + just as his host would instantly observe the difference between green + glass and green beryl. + </p> + <p> + Cutty turned into the shop, infinitely amused. Fiddles! What next? Having + constituted a guardianship over Kitty, he was now playing impressario to + Hawksley. As if he hadn't enough parts to play! Wouldn't he be risking his + life to-night trying to find where Stefani Gregor was? Fiddles! Fiddles + and emeralds! What a choice old hypocrite he was! + </p> + <p> + Fate has a way of telling you all about it—afterward; conceivably, + that humanity might continue to reproduce its species. Otherwise humanity + would proceed to extinguish itself forthwith. Thus, Cutty was totally + unaware upon entering the shop that he was about to tear off its hinges + the door he was so carefully bolting and latching and padlocking between + Kitty Conover and this duffer who wanted to fiddle his way through + convalescence. + </p> + <p> + Where there is fiddling there is generally dancing. If it be not the feet, + then it will be the soul. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + There are some men who know a little about all things and a great deal + about many. Such a man was Cutty. But as he approached the counter behind + which stood an expectant clerk he felt for once that he was in a far + country. There were fiddles and fiddles, just as there were emeralds and + emeralds. Never again would he laugh over the story of the man who thought + Botticelli was a manufacturer of spool thread. He attacked the problem, + however, like the thoroughbred he was—frankly. + </p> + <p> + “I want to buy a violin,” he began, knowing that in polite musical circles + the word fiddle was taboo. “I know absolutely nothing at all about quality + or price. Understand, though, while you might be able to fool me, you + wouldn't fool the man I'm buying it for. Now what would you suggest?” + </p> + <p> + The clerk—a salesman familiar with certain urban types, thinly + including the Fifth Avenue, which came in for talking-machine records—recognized + in this well-dressed, attractive elderly man that which he designated the + swell. Hateful word, yes, but having a perfectly legitimate niche, since + in the minds of the hoi polloi it nicely describes the differences between + the poor gentleman and the gentleman of leisure. To proceed with the + digression, to no one is the word more hateful than to the individual to + whom it is applied. Cutty would have blushed at the clerk's thought. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I'd better get the proprietor,” was the clerk's suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Good idea,” Cutty agreed. “Take my card along with you.” This was a Fifth + Avenue shop, and Cutty knew there would be a Who's Who or a Bradstreet + somewhere about. + </p> + <p> + In the interim he inspected the case-lined walls. Trombones. He chuckled. + Lucky that Hawksley's talent didn't extend in this direction. True, he + himself collected drums, but he did not play them. Something odd about + music; human beings had to have it, the very lowest in the scale. A + universal magic. He was himself very fond of good music; but these days he + fought shy of it; it had the faculty of sweeping him back into the + twenties and reincarnating vanished dreams. + </p> + <p> + After a certain length of time, from the corner of his eye he saw the + clerk returning with the proprietor, the latter wearing an amiable smile, + which probably connoted a delving into the aforesaid volumes of attainment + and worth. Cutty hoped this was so, as it would obviate the necessity of + going into details as to who he was and what he had. + </p> + <p> + “Your name is familiar to me,” began the proprietor. “You collect antique + drums. My clerk tells me that you wish to purchase a good violin.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. I have in my apartment rather a distinguished guest who plays + the violin for his own amusement. He is ill and cannot select for himself. + Now I know a little about music but nothing about violins.” + </p> + <p> + “I suggest that I personally carry half a dozen instruments to your + apartment and let your guest try them. How much is he willing to pay?” + </p> + <p> + “Top price, I should say. Shall I make a deposit?” + </p> + <p> + “If you don't mind. Merely precautionary. Half a dozen violins will + represent quite a sum of money; and taxicabs are unreliable animals. A + thousand against accidents. What time shall I call?” The proprietor's + curiosity was stirred. Musical celebrities, as he had occasion to know, + were always popping up in queer places. Some new star probably, whose + violin had been broken and who did not care to appear in public before the + hour of his debut. + </p> + <p> + “Three o'clock,” said Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir. I promise to bring the violins myself.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty wrote out his check for a thousand and departed, the chuckle still + going on inside of him. Versatile old codger, wasn't he? + </p> + <p> + Promptly at three the dealer arrived, his arms and his hands gripping + violin cases. Cutty hurried to his assistance, accepted a part of the + load, and beckoned to the man to follow him. The cases were placed on the + floor, and the dealer opened them, putting the rosin on a single bow. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley, a fresh bandage on his head, his shoulders propped by pillows, + eyed the initial manoeuvres with frank amusement. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you know, would you mind tuning them for me? I'm not top hole.” + </p> + <p> + The dealer's eyebrows went up. An Englishman? Bewildered, he bent to the + trifling labour of tuning the violins. Hawksley rejected the first two + instruments after thrumming the strings with his thumb. He struck up a + melody on the third but did not finish it. + </p> + <p> + “My word! If you have a violin there why not let me have it at once?” + </p> + <p> + The dealer flushed. “Try this, sir. But I do not promise you that I shall + sell it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Hawksley stretched out his hands to receive the instrument. + </p> + <p> + Of course Cutty had heard of Amati and Stradivari, master and pupil. He + knew that all famous violinists possessed instruments of these schools, + and that such violins were practically beyond the reach of many. Only + through some great artist's death or misfortune did a fine violin return + to the marts. But the rejected fiddles had sounded musically enough for + him and looked as if they were well up in the society of select fiddles. + The fiddle Hawksley now held in his hands was dull, almost black. The + maple neck was worn to a shabby gray and the varnish had been sweated off + the chin rest. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley laid his fingers on the strings and drew the bow with a powerful + flourishing sweep. The rich, sonorous tones vibrated after the bow had + passed. Then followed the tricks by which an artist seeks to discover + flaws or wolf notes. A beatific expression settled upon Hawksley face. He + nestled the violin comfortably under his chin and began to play softly. + Cutty, the nurse, and the dealer became images. + </p> + <p> + Minors; a bit of a dance; more minors; nothing really begun, nothing + really finished—sketches, with a melancholy note running through + them all. While that pouring into his ears enchained his body it stirred + recollections in Cutty's mind: The fair at Novgorod; the fiddling + mountebanks; Russian. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the dealer's astonishment was greatest. An Englishman! Who ever + heard of an Englishman playing a violin like that? + </p> + <p> + “I will buy it,” said Hawksley, sinking back. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” began the dealer, “I am horribly embarrassed. I cannot sell that + violin because it isn't mine. It is an Amati worth ten thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “Name a price,” interrupted Hawksley, rather imperiously. “I want it.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty understood that he was witnessing a flash of the ancient blood. To + want anything was to have it. + </p> + <p> + “I repeat, sir, I cannot sell it. It belongs to a Hungarian who is now in + Hungary. I loaned him fifteen hundred and took the Amati as security. + Until I learn if he is dead I cannot dispose of the violin. I am sorry. + But because you are a real artist, sir, I will loan it to you if you will + make a deposit of ten thousand against any possible accident, and that + upon demand you will return the instrument to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That's fair enough,” interposed Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon,” said Hawksley. “I agree. I want it, but not at the price + of any one's dishonesty.” + </p> + <p> + He turned his head toward Cutty, “You're a thoroughbred, sir. This will do + more to bring me round than all the doctors in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “But what the deuce is the difference?” Cutty demanded with a gesture + toward the rejected violins. + </p> + <p> + The dealer and Hawksley exchanged smiles. Said the latter: “The other + violins are pretty wooden boxes with tolerable tunes in their insides. + This has a soul.” He put the violin against his cheek again. + </p> + <p> + Massenet's “Elegie,” Moszkowski's “Serenata,” a transcription, and then + the aria from Lucia. Not compositions professional violinists would have + selected. Cutty felt his spine grow cold as this aria poured goldenly + toward heaven. He understood. Hawksley was telling him that the shade of + his glorious mother was in this room. The boy was right. Some fiddles had + souls. An odd depression bore down upon him. Perhaps this surprising + music, topping his great emotions of the morning, was a straw too much. + There were certain exaltations that could not be sustained. + </p> + <p> + A whimsical forecast: This chap here, in the dingy parlour of his Montana + ranch, playing these indescribable melodies to the stars, his cowmen + outside wondering what was the matter with their “inards.” Somehow this + picture lightened the depression. + </p> + <p> + “My fingers are stiff,” said Hawksley. “My hand is tired. I should like to + be alone.” He lay back rather inertly. + </p> + <p> + In the corridor Cutty whispered to the dealer: “What do you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + “As he says, his touch shows a little stiffness, but the wonderful fire is + there. He's an amateur, but a fine one. Practice will bring him to a + finish in no time. But I never heard an Englishman play a violin like that + before.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” Cutty agreed. “When the owner sends for that fiddle let me know. + Mr. Hawksley might like to dicker for it. If you know where the owner is + you might cable that you have an offer of twelve thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, but I haven't the least idea where the owner is. However, + there is an understanding that if the loan isn't covered in eighteen + months the instrument becomes salable for my own protection. There is a + year still to run.” + </p> + <p> + Four o'clock found Cutty pacing his study, the room blue with smoke. Of + all the queer chaps he had met in his varied career this Two-Hawks topped + the lot. The constant internal turmoil that must be going on, the + instincts of the blood—artist and autocrat! And in the end, the + owner of a cattle ranch, if he had the luck to get there alive! Dizzy old + world. + </p> + <p> + Something else happened at four o'clock. A policeman strolled into + Eightieth Street. He was at peace with the world. Spring was in his + whistle, in his stride, in the twirl of his baton. Whenever he passed a + shop window he made it serve as a mirror. No waistline yet—a + comforting thought. + </p> + <p> + Children swarmed the street and gathered at corners. The older ones played + boldly in midstreet, while the toddlers invented games that kept them to + the sidewalk and curb. The policeman came stealthily upon one of these + latter groups—Italians. At the sight of his brass buttons they fled + precipitately. He laughed. Once in a month of moons he was able to get + near enough to touch them. Natural. Hadn't he himself hiked in the old + days at the sight of a copper? Sure, he had. + </p> + <p> + A bit of colour on the sidewalk attracted his eye, and he picked up the + object. Something those kids had been playing with. A bit of red glass out + of a piece of cheap jewellery. Not half bad for a fake. He would put one + over on Maggie when he turned in for supper. Certainly this was the age of + imitation. You couldn't buy a brass button with any confidence. He put the + trinket in his pocket and continued on, soon to forget it. + </p> + <p> + At six he was off duty. As he was leaving the precinct the desk sergeant + called him back. + </p> + <p> + “Got change for a dollar, an' I'll settle that pinochle debt,” offered the + sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take a look.” The policeman emptied his coin pocket. + </p> + <p> + “What's that yuh got there?” + </p> + <p> + “Which?” + </p> + <p> + “The red stone?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that? Picked it up on the sidewalk. Some Italian kids dropped it as + they skedaddled.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's have a look.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure.” The policeman passed over the stone. + </p> + <p> + “Gee! That looks like real money. Say, they can do anything with glass + these days.” + </p> + <p> + “They sure can.” + </p> + <p> + A man in civilian clothes—a detective from headquarters—went + up to the desk. “What you guys got there?” + </p> + <p> + “A ruby this boob picks up off'n the sidewalk,” said the sergeant, winking + at the finder, who grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have a squint at it.” + </p> + <p> + The stone was handed to him. The detective stared at it carefully, holding + it on his palm and rocking it gently under the desk light. Crimson darts + of flame answered to this treatment. He pushed back his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you boobs!” he drawled. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Matter? Why, this is a ruby! A whale of a ruby, an' pigeon blood at that! + I didn't work in the' appraiser's office for nothing. But for a broken + point—kids probably tried to crack it—it would stack up + somewhere between three and four thousand dollars!” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant and the policemen barked simultaneously: “What?” + </p> + <p> + “A pigeon blood. Where was it you found it?” + </p> + <p> + “Holy Moses! On Eightieth.” + </p> + <p> + “Any chance of finding that bunch of kids?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a chance, not a chance! If I got the hull district here there + wouldn't be nothin' doin'. The kids'd be too scared t' remember anything. + A pigeon-blood ruby, an' I wasn't gonna pick it up at first!” + </p> + <p> + “Lock it up, sergeant,” ordered the detective. “I'll pass the word to + headquarters. Too big for a ring. Probably fallen from a pin. But there'll + be a holler in a few hours. Lost or stolen, there'll be some big noise. + You two boobs!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, whadda yuh know about that?” whined the policeman. “An' me thinkin' + it was glass!” + </p> + <p> + But there was no big noise. No one had reported the loss or theft of a + pigeon-blood ruby of unusual size and quality. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Kitty came home at nine that night, dreadfully tired. She had that day + been rocked by so many emotions. She had viewed the parade from the + windows of a theatrical agency, and she had cheered and cried like + everybody else. Her eyes still smarted, and her throat betrayed her every + time she recalled what she had seen. Those boys! + </p> + <p> + Loneliness. She had dined downtown, and on the way home the shadow had + stalked beside her. Loneliness. Never before had these rooms seemed so + empty, empty. If God had only given her a brother and he had marched in + that glorious parade, what fun they two would be having at this moment! + Empty rooms; not even a pet. + </p> + <p> + Loneliness. She had been a silly little fool to stand so aloof, just + because she was poor and lived in a faded locality. She mocked herself. + Poor but proud, like the shopgirl in the movies. Denied herself + companionship because she was ashamed of her genteel poverty. And now she + was paying for it. Silly little fool! It wasn't as if she did not know how + to make and keep friends. She knew she had attractions. Just a senseless + false pride. The best friends in the world, after a series of rebuffs, + would drop away. Her mother's friends never called any more, because of + her aloofness. She had only a few girl friends, and even these no doubt + were beginning to think her uppish. + </p> + <p> + She did not take off her hat and coat. She wandered through the empty + rooms, undecided. If she went to a movie the rooms would be just as lonely + when she returned. Companionship. The urge of it was so strong that there + was a temptation to call up someone, even someone she had rebuffed. She + was in the mood to confess everything and to make an honest attempt to + start all over again—to accept friendship and let pride go hang. + Impulsively she started for the telephone, when the doorbell rang. + </p> + <p> + Immediately the sense of loneliness fell away. Another chapter in the + great game of hide and seek that had kept her from brooding until + to-night? The doorbell carried a new message these days. Nine o'clock. Who + could be calling at that hour? She had forgotten to advise Cutty of the + fact that someone had gone through the apartment. She could not positively + assert the fact. Those articles in her bureau she herself might have + disturbed. She might have taken a handkerchief in a hurry, hunted for + something under the lingerie impatiently. Still she could not rid herself + of the feeling that alien hands had been rifling her belongings. Not + Bernini, decidedly. + </p> + <p> + Remembering Cutty's advice about opening the door with her foot against + it, she peered out. No emissary of Bolshevisim here. A weary little + messenger boy with a long box in his arms called her name. + </p> + <p> + “Miz Conover?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + The boy thrust the box into her hands and clumped to the stairhead. Kitty + slammed the door and ran into the living room, tearing open the box as she + ran. Roses from Cutty; she knew it. The old darling! Just when she was on + the verge of breaking down and crying! She let the box fall to the floor + and cuddled the flowers to her heart, her eyes filling. Cutty. + </p> + <p> + One of those ideas which sometime or another spring into the minds of all + pretty women who are poor sprang into hers—an idea such as an honest + woman might muse over, only to reject. Sinister and cynical. Kitty was at + this moment in rather a desperate frame of mind. Those two inherent + characteristics, which she had fought valiantly—love of good times + and of pretty clothes—made ingress easy for this sinister and + cynical idea. Having gained a foothold it pressed forward boldly. Cutty, + who had everything—strength, comeliness, wisdom, and money. To live + among all those beautiful things, never to be lonely again, to be waited + on, fussed over, made much of, taken into the high world. Never more to + add up accounts, to stretch five-dollar bills across the chasm of seven + days. An old man's darling! + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” she burst out, passionately. She drew a hand across her + eyes. As if that gesture could rub out an evil thought! It is all very + well to say “Avaunt!” But if the idea will not? “I couldn't, I couldn't! + I'd be a liar and a cheat. But he is so nice! If he did want me!... No, + no! Just for comforts! I couldn't! What a miserable wretch I am!” + </p> + <p> + She caught up the copper jug and still holding the roses to her heart, the + tears streaming down her cheeks, rushed out to the kitchen for water. She + dropped the green stems into the jug, buried her face in the buds to cool + the hot shame on her cheeks, and remembered—what a ridiculous thing + the mind was!—that she had three shirt waists to iron. She set the + jug on the kitchen table, where it remained for many hours, and walked + over to the range, to the flatiron shelf. As she reached for a flatiron + her hand stopped in midair. + </p> + <p> + A fat black wallet! Instantly she knew who had placed it there. That poor + Johnny Two-Hawks! + </p> + <p> + Kitty lifted out the wallet from behind the flatirons. No doubt of it, + Johnny Two-Hawks had placed it there when she had gone to the speaking + tube to summon the janitor. Not knowing if he would ever call for it! + Preferring that she rather than his enemies should have it. And without a + word! What a simple yet amazing hiding place; and but for the need of a + flatiron the wallet would have stayed there until she moved. Left it + there, with the premonition that he was heading into trouble. But what if + they had killed him? How would she have explained the wallet's presence in + her apartment? Good gracious, what an escape! + </p> + <p> + Without direct consciousness she raised the flap. She saw the edges of + money and documents; but she did not touch anything. There was no need. + She knew it belonged to Johnny Two-Hawks. Of course there was an appalling + attraction. The wallet was, figuratively, begging to be investigated. But + resolutely she closed the flap. Why? Because it was as though Two-Hawks + had placed the wallet in her hands, charging her to guard it against the + day he reclaimed it. There was no outward proof that the wallet was his. + She just knew, that was all. + </p> + <p> + Still, she examined the outside carefully. In one corner had been + originally a monogram or a crest; effectually obliterated by the + application of fire. + </p> + <p> + Who he was and what he was, by a simple turn of the wrist. It was Cutty's + affair now, not hers. He had a legal right to examine the contents. He was + an agent of the Federal Government. The drums of jeopardy and Stefani + Gregor and Johnny Two-Hawks, all interwoven. She had waited in vain for + Cutty to mention the emeralds. What signified his silence? She had + indirectly apprised him of the fact that she knew the author of that + advertisement offering to purchase the drums, no questions asked. Who but + Cutty in New York would know about them? The mark of the thong. Johnny + Two-Hawks had been carrying the drums, and Karlov's men had torn them from + their victim's neck during the battle. Was there any reason why Cutty + should not have taken her completely into his confidence? Palaces looted. + If Stefani Gregor had lived in a palace, why not his protege? Still, it + was possible Cutty was holding back until he could tell her everything. + </p> + <p> + But what to do with it? If she called him up and made known her discovery, + Cutty would rush up as fast as a taxicab could bring him. He had + peremptorily ordered her not to come to his apartment for the present. But + to sit here and wait, to be alone again after he had gone! It was not to + be borne. Orders or no orders, she would carry the wallet to him. He could + lecture her as much as he pleased. To-night, at least, she would lay aside + her part as parlour maid in the drama. It would give her something to do, + keep her mind off herself. Nothing but excitement would pull her out of + this semi-hysterical doldrum. + </p> + <p> + She hid the wallet in the pocket of her underskirt. Already her blood was + beginning to dance. She ran into her bedroom for two veils, a gray + automobile puggree and one of those heavy black affairs with butterflies + scattered over it, quite as effectual as a mask. She wound the puggree + about her hat. When the right moment came she would discard the puggree + and drop the black veil. Her coat was of dark blue, lined with steel-gray + taffeta. Turned inside out it would fool any man. She wore spats. These + she would leave behind when she made the change. + </p> + <p> + Someone might follow her as far as the Knickerbocker, but beyond there, + never. She was sorry, but she dared not warn Bernini. He might object, + notify Cutty, and spoil everything. + </p> + <p> + By the time she reached the street exhilaration suffused her. The + melancholia was gone. The sinister and cynical idea had vanished + apparently. Apparently. Merely it had found a hiding place and was content + to abide there for the present. Such ideas are not without avenues of + retreat; they know the hours of attack. Kitty was alive to but one fact: + The game of hide and seek was on again. She was going to have some + excitement. She was going into the night on an adventure, as children play + at bears in the dark. The youth in her still rejected the fact that the + woof and warp of this adventure were murder and loot and pain. + </p> + <p> + En route to the Subway she never looked back. At Forty-second Street she + detrained, walked into the Knickerbocker, entered the ladies dressing + room, turned her coat, redraped her hat, checked her gaiters, and sought a + taxi. Within two blocks of Cutty's she dismissed the cab and finished the + journey on foot. + </p> + <p> + At the left of the lobby was an all-night apothecary's, with a door going + into the lobby. Kitty proceeded to the elevator through this avenue. + Number Four was down, and she stepped inside, raising her veil. + </p> + <p> + “You, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “Very important. Take me up.” + </p> + <p> + “The boss is out.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter. Take me up. + </p> + <p> + “You're the doctor!” What a pretty girl she was. No come-on in her eyes, + though. “The boss may not get back until morning. He just went out in his + engineer's togs. He sure wasn't expecting you. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where he went?” + </p> + <p> + “Never know. But I'll be in this bird cage until he comes back.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to wait for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Up she goes!” + </p> + <p> + As Kitty stepped out into the corridor a wave of confusion assailed her. + She hadn't planned against Cutty's absence. There was nothing she could + say to the nurse; and if Johnny Two-Hawks was asleep—why, all she + could do would be to curl up on a divan and await Cutty's return. + </p> + <p> + The nurse appeared. “You, Miss Conover?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Kitty realized at once that she must take the nurse into her + confidence. “I have made a really important discovery. Did Cutty say when + he would return?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I am not in his confidence to that extent. But I do know that you + assumed unnecessary risks in coming here.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty shrugged and produced the wallet. “Is Mr. Hawksley awake?” + </p> + <p> + “He is.” + </p> + <p> + “It appears that he left this wallet in my kitchen that night. It might + buck him up if I gave it to him.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse, eyeing the lovely animated face, conceded that it might. “Come, + I've been trying futilely to read him asleep, but he is restless. No + excitement, please.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try not to. Perhaps, after all, you had better give him the wallet.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, that would start a series of questions I could not + answer. Come along.” + </p> + <p> + When Kitty saw Hawksley she gave a little gasp of astonishment. Why, he + was positively handsome! His dark head, standing out boldly against the + bolstering pillows, the fine lines of his face definite, the pallor—he + was like a Roman cameo. Who and what could he be, this picturesque + foundling? + </p> + <p> + His glance flashed into hers delightedly. For hours and hours the constant + wonder where she was, why no one mentioned her, why they evaded his + apparently casual questions. To burst upon his vision in the nadir of his + boredom and loneliness like this! She was glorious, this American girl. + She made him think of a golden scabbard housing a fine Toledo blade. + Hadn't she saved his life? More, hadn't she assumed a responsibility in so + doing? Instantly he purposed that she should not be permitted to resign + the office of good Samaritan. He motioned toward the nurse's chair; and + Kitty sat down, her errand in total eclipse. + </p> + <p> + “Just when I never felt so lonely! Ripping!” + </p> + <p> + His quick smile was so engaging that Kitty answered it—kindred + spirits, subconsciously recognizing each other. Fire; but neither of them + knew that; or that two lonely human beings of opposite sex, in touch, + constitute a first-rate combustible. + </p> + <p> + Quietly the nurse withdrew. There would be a tonic in this meeting for the + patient. Her own presence might neutralize the effect. She had not spent + all those dreadful months in base hospitals without acquiring a keen + insight into the needs of sick men. No harm in letting him have this + pretty, self-reliant girl alone to himself for a quarter of an hour. She + would then return with some broth. + </p> + <p> + “How—how are you?” asked Kitty, inanely. + </p> + <p> + “Top-hole, considering. Quite ready to be killed all over again.” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't talk like that!” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “Only to show you I was bucking up. Thank you for doing what you did.” + </p> + <p> + “I had to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Most women would have run away and left me to my fate.” + </p> + <p> + “Not my kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather not! Your kind would risk its neck to help a stray cat. I say, + what's that you have in your hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” Kitty extended the wallet. “It is yours, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I wanted you to bring it to me the way you have. If I hadn't come + back—out of that—it was to be yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine?”—dumfounded. “But——” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Gregor gone, there wasn't a soul in the world. I was hungry, and + you gave me food. I wanted that to pay you. I'll wager you've never looked + into it.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no right to.” + </p> + <p> + “See!” He opened the wallet and spread the contents on the counterpane. “I + wasn't so stony as you thought. What? Cash and unregistered bonds. They + would have been yours absolutely.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't—I can't quite,” Kitty stammered—“but I couldn't + have kept them!” + </p> + <p> + “Positively yes. You would have shown them to that ripping guardian of + yours, and he would have made you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, yes! He would have been scared to death. You poor man, can't you + see? Circumstantial evidence that I had killed you!” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord! And you're right, too! So it goes. You can't do anything you + want to do. The good Samaritan is never requited; and I wanted to break + the rule. Lord, what a bally mix-up I'd have tumbled you in! I forgot that + you were you, that you would have gone straight to the authorities. Of + course I knew if I pulled through and you found the wallet you would bring + it to me.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty no longer had a foot on earth. She floated. Her brain floated, too, + because she could not make it think coherently for her. A fortune—for + a dish of bacon and eggs! The magnificence, the utter prodigality of such + generosity! For a dish of bacon and eggs and a bottle of milk! Had she + left home? Hadn't she fallen asleep, the victim of another nightmare? A + corner of the atmosphere cleared a little. A desire took form; she wanted + the nurse to come back and stabilize things. In a wavering blur she saw + the odd young man restore the money and bonds and other documents to the + wallet. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to give this to your guardian when he comes in. I want him to + understand. I say, you know, I'm going to love that old thoroughbred! He's + fine. Fancy his carrying me on his shoulders and eventually bringing me up + here among the clouds! Americans.... Are you all like that? And you!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty's brain began to make preparations to alight, as it were. Cutty. + That gave her a touch of earth. She heard herself say faintly: “And what + about me?” + </p> + <p> + “You were brave and kind. To help an unknown, friendless beggar like that, + when you should have turned him over to the police! Makes me feel a bit + stuffy. They left me for dead. I wonder—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “If—it wouldn't have been just as well!” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't talk like that! You just mustn't! You're with friends, real + friends, who want to help you all they can.” And then with a little flash + of forced humour, because of the recurrent tightening in her throat—“Who + could be friendless, with all that money?” Instantly she felt like biting + her tongue. He would know nothing of the sad American habit of trying to + be funny to keep a wobbly situation on its legs. He would interpret it as + heartlessness. “I didn't mean that!” With the Irish impulsiveness which + generally weighs acts in retrospection, she reached over and gripped his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you two!” Hawksley closed his eyes for a second. “Wanting to buck + up a chap because you re that sort! All right. I'll stick it out! You two! + And I might be the worst scoundrel unhung!” + </p> + <p> + He drew her hand toward his lips, and Kitty had not the power to resist + him. She felt strangely theatrical, a character in a play; for American + men, except in playful burlesque, never kissed their women's hands. The + moment he released the hand the old wave of hysteria rolled over her. She + must fly. The desire to weep, little fool that she was! was breaking + through her defences. Loneliness. The two of them all alone but for Cutty. + She rose, crushing the wallet in her hand. + </p> + <p> + Ah, never had she needed that darling mother of hers so much as now. Tears + did not seem to afford relief when one shed them into handkerchiefs and + pillows. But on that gentle bosom, to let loose this brimming flood, to + hear the tender voice consoling! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, now! Please!” she heard Johnny Two-Hawks cry out. + </p> + <p> + But she rushed on blindly, knocking against the door jamb and almost + upsetting the nurse, who was returning. Somehow she managed to reach the + living room, glad it was dark. Alter sundry reaching about she found the + divan and flung herself upon it. What would he think? What would the nurse + think? That Kitty Conover had suddenly gone stark, raving crazy! And now + that she was in the dark, alone, the desire to weep passed over and she + lay quietly with her face buried in the pillow. But not for long. + </p> + <p> + She sat up. Music—violin music! A gay waltz that made her think of + flashing water, the laughter of children. Tschaikowsky. Thrilled, she + waited for the finale. Silence. Scharwenka's “Polish Dance,” with a swing + and a fire beyond anything she had ever heard before. Another stretch of + silence—a silence full of interrogation points. Then a tender little + sketch, quite unfamiliar. But all at once she understood. He was imploring + her to return. She smiled in the dark; but she knew she was going to + remain right where she was. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Conover?” It was the voice of the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'm over here on the divan.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, no! I'm overtired. A little hysterical, maybe. The parade + to-day, with all those wounded boys in automobiles, the music and colour + and excitement—have rather done me up. And the way I rushed up here. + And not finding Cutty—” + </p> + <p> + “Anything I can get for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks. I'll try to snatch a little sleep before Cutty returns.” + </p> + <p> + “But he may be gone all night!” + </p> + <p> + “Will it be so very scandalous if I stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “You poor child! Go ahead and sleep. Don't hesitate to call me if you want + anything. I have a mild sedative if you would like it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks. I did not know that Mr. Hawksley played.” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderfully! But does it bother you?” + </p> + <p> + “It kind of makes me choky.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell him.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty, now strangely at peace, snuggled down among the pillows. Some great + Polish violinist, who had roused the bitter enmity of the anarchist? But + no; he was Russian. Cutty had admitted that. It struck her that Cutty knew + a great deal more than Kitty Conover; and so far as she could see there + was no apparent reason for this secrecy. She rather believed she had + Cutty. Either he should tell her everything or she would run loose, + Bolshevik or no Bolshevik. + </p> + <p> + Sheep. She boosted one over the bars, another and another. Round somewhere + in the thirties the bars dissolved. The next thing she knew she was + blinking in the light, Cutty, his arms folded, staring down at her + sombrely. There was blood on his face and blood on his hands. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + Karlov moodily touched the shoulder of the man on the cot. Stefani Gregor + puzzled him. He came to this room more often than was wise, driven by a + curiosity born of a cynical philosophy to discover what it was that + reenforced this fragile body against threats and thirst and hunger. He + knew what he wanted of Gregor—the fiddler on his knees begging for + mercy. And always Gregor faced him with that silent calm which reminded + him of the sea, aloof, impervious, exasperating. Only once since the day + he had been locked in this room had Gregor offered speech. He, Karlov, had + roared at him, threatened, baited, but his reward generally had been a + twisted wintry smile. + </p> + <p> + He could not offer physical torture beyond the frequent omissions of food + and water; the body would have crumbled. To have planned this for months, + and then to be balked by something as visible yet as elusive as + quicksilver! Born in the same mudhole, and still Boris Karlov the avenger + could not understand Stefani Gregor the fiddler. Perhaps what baffled him + was that so valiant a spirit should be housed in so weak a body. It was + natural that he, Boris, with the body of a Carpathian bear, should have a + soul to match. But that Stefani, with his paper body, should mock him! The + damned bourgeoisie! + </p> + <p> + The quality of this unending calm was understandable: Gregor was always + ready to die. What to do with a man to whom death was release? To hold the + knout and to see it turn to water in the hand! In lying he had + overreached. Gregor, having accepted as fact the reported death of Ivan, + had nothing to live for. Having brought Gregor here to torture he had, + blind fool, taken away the fiddler's ability to feel. The fog cleared. He + himself had given his enemy this mysterious calm. He had taken out + Gregor's soul and dissipated it. + </p> + <p> + No. Not quite dissipated. What held the body together was the iron residue + of the soul. Venom and blood clogged Karlov's throat. He could kill only + the body, as he had killed the fiddle; he could not reach the mystery + within. Ah, but he had wrung Stefani's heart there. There were pieces of + the fiddle on the table where Gregor had placed them, doubtless to weep + over when he was alone. Why hadn't he thought to break the fiddle a little + each day? + </p> + <p> + “Stefani Gregor, sit up. I have come to talk.” This was formula. Karlov + did not expect speech from Gregor. + </p> + <p> + Slowly the thin arms bore up the torso; slowly the legs swung to the + floor. But the little gray man's eyes were bright and quick to-night. + </p> + <p> + “Boris, what is it you want?” + </p> + <p> + “To talk”—surprised at this unexpected outburst. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I mean, what is it all about—these killings, these + burnings?” + </p> + <p> + Karlov was ready at all times to expound the theories that appealed to his + dark yet simple mind—humanity overturned as one overturned the sod + in the springtime to give it new life. + </p> + <p> + “To give the proletariat what is his.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said the little man on the cot. “What is his?” + </p> + <p> + “That which capitalism has taken away from him.” + </p> + <p> + “The proletariat. The lowest in the human scale—and therefore the + most helpless. They shall rule, say you. My poor Russia! Beaten and robbed + for centuries, and now betrayed by a handful of madmen—with brains + atrophied on one side! You are a fool, Boris. Your feet are in strange + quicksands and your head among chimeras. You write some words on a piece + of paper, and lo! you say they are facts. Without first proving your + theories correct you would ram them down the throat of the world. The + world rejects you.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait and see, damned bourgeoisie!” thundered Karlov, not alive to the + fact that he was being baited. + </p> + <p> + “Bourgeoisie? Yes, I am of the middle class; the rogue on top and the fool + below. I see. The rogue and the fool cannot combine unless the bourgeoisie + is obliterated. Go on. I am interested.” + </p> + <p> + “Under the soviet the government shall be everything.” + </p> + <p> + “As it was in Prussia.” + </p> + <p> + Karlov ignored this. “The individual shall never again become rich by + exploiting the poor.” + </p> + <p> + Karlov strove to speak calmly. Gregor's willingness to discuss the aims of + the proletariat confused him. He suspected some ulterior purpose behind + this apparent amiability. He must hold down his fury until this purpose + was in the open. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is good,” Gregor admitted. “But somehow it sounds ancient on + my ear. Was there not a revolution in France?” + </p> + <p> + “Fool, it is the world that is revolting!” Karlov paused. “And no man in + the future shall see his sister or his daughter made into a loose woman + without redress.” + </p> + <p> + “Your proletariat's sister and daughter. But the daughter of the noble and + the daughter of the bourgeoisie—fair game!” + </p> + <p> + Sometimes there enters a man's head what might be called a sick idea; when + the vitality is at low ebb and the future holds nothing. Thus there was a + grim and sick idea behind Gregor's gibes. It was in his mind to die. All + the things he had loved had been destroyed. So then, to goad this madman + into a physical frenzy. Once those gorilla-like hands reached out for him + Stefani Gregor's neck would break. + </p> + <p> + “Be still, fiddler! You know what I mean. There will be no upper class, + which is idleness and wastefulness; no middle class, the usurers, the + gamblers of necessities, the war makers. One great body of equals shall + issue forth. All shall labour.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “The common good.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Lenine offered peace, bread, and work for the overthrow of Kerensky. + What you have given—murder and famine and idleness. Can there be + common good that is based upon the blood of innocents? Did Ivan ever harm + a soul? Have I?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” Karlov trembled. “You—with your damned green stones! Did you + not lure Anna to dishonour with the promise to show her the drums, the + sight of which would make all her dreams come true? A child, with a fairy + story in her head!” + </p> + <p> + “You speak of Anna! If you hadn't been spouting your twaddle in taverns + you would have had time to instruct Anna against guilelessness and + superstition.” + </p> + <p> + “How much did they pay you? Did you fiddle for her to dance?... But I left + their faces in the mud!” + </p> + <p> + A madman, with two obsessions. A pitiable Samson with his arms round the + pillars of society to drag it down upon his head because society had + defiled his sister! Ah, how many thousands in Russia like him! A great + yearning filled Gregor's heart, because he understood; but he suppressed + expression of it because the sick idea was stronger. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! I loved those green stones because it was born in me to love + beautiful things. Have you forgotten, Boris, the old days in Moscow, when + we were students and I made you weep with my fiddle? There was hope for + you then. You had not become a pothouse orator on the rights of the + proletariat—the red-combed rooster on the smouldering dungheap! + Beauty, no matter in what form, I loved it. Yes, I was mad about those + emeralds. I was always stealing in to see them, to hold them to the light, + simply because they were beautiful.” Gregor's hands flew to his throat, + which he bared. “I lured her there! 'Twas I, Boris!... Those beautiful + hands of yours, fit for the butcher's block! Kill me! Kill me!” + </p> + <p> + But Karlov shrank back, covering his eyes. “No! I see now! You wish to + die! You shall live!” He rushed toward the far wall, a huge grotesque + shadow rising to meet him—his own, thrown upon the wall by the + wavering candlelight. He turned shaking, for the temptation had been + great. + </p> + <p> + At once Gregor realized his failure. The tenseness went out of him. He + spoke calmly. “Yes, I wanted to die. I no longer possess anything. I lied, + Boris; but it is useless to tell you that. I knew nothing of Anna until it + was too late. I wanted to die.” + </p> + <p> + Karlov began to pace furiously, the candle flame springing after him each + time he passed it. + </p> + <p> + There was a question in Gregor's mind. It rushed to his lips a dozen times + but he dared not voice it. Olga. Since Karlov could not be tempted to + murder, it would be futile to ask for an additional burden of mental + torture. Perhaps it had not happened—the terrible picture he drew in + his mind—since Karlov had not boasted of it. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Boris. There is blood on your hands. What is one more daub of it?” + </p> + <p> + Karlov stopped, scowled, and ran his fingers through his hair. Perhaps + some ugly memory stirred the roots of it. “You wish to die!” + </p> + <p> + Gregor bent his head to his hands and Karlov resumed his pacing. After a + while Gregor looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Private vengeance. You begin your rule with private vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + “The vengeance of a people. All the breed. Did France stop at Louis? Do we + tear up the roots of the poisonous toadstool that killed someone we loved + and leave the other toadstools thriving?” + </p> + <p> + “To cure the world of all its ills by tearing up the toadstools and the + flowers together—do you call that justice? The proletariat shall + have everything, and he begins by killing off noble and bourgeoisie and + dividing up the loot! Even with his oppression the noble had a right to + live. The bourgeoisie must die because of his benefactions to a people. + The world for the proletariat, and damnation for the rest!” + </p> + <p> + “Let each become one of us,” cried Karlov, hoarsely. “We give them that + right.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie! You have done nothing but assassinate them when they + surrendered. But tell me, have not you, Lenine, and Trotzky overlooked + something?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” Karlov was vaguely grateful for this diversion. The lust to kill + was still upon him and he was fighting it. He must remember that Gregor + wished to die. “What have we overlooked?” + </p> + <p> + “Human nature. Can you tear it apart and reconstruct it, as you would a + clock? What of creative genius in this proletariat millennium of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “The state will carefully mother that.” + </p> + <p> + Gregor laughed sardonically. “Will there be creative genius under your + rule? Will you not suffocate it by taking away the air that energizes it—ambition? + You will have all the present marvels of invention to start with, but will + you ever go beyond? Have you read history and observed the inexorable? I + doubt it. What is progress? A series of almost imperceptible steps.” + </p> + <p> + “Which capitalism has always obstructed,” flung back Karlov. + </p> + <p> + “Which capitalism has always made possible. Curb it, yes; but abolish it, + as you have done in unhappy Russia! Why do you starve there? Poor fool, + because you have assassinated those forces which created food—that + is to say, put it where you could get it. Three quarters of Russia are + against you. You read nothing in that? The efficient and the inefficient, + they shall lie down together as the lion and the ass, to paraphrase. They + shall become equal because you say so. What is, fundamentally, this + Bolshevism? The revolt of the inefficient. The mantle of horror that was + Germany's you have torn from her shoulders and thrown upon yours. Fools!” + </p> + <p> + The anarch's huge fists became knotted; wrinkles corrugated his forehead; + but he did not stir. Gregor wanted to die. + </p> + <p> + Gregor pointed with trembling hand toward the brown litter on the table. + “To destroy. You shattered a soul there. You tore mine apart when you did + it. For what? To better humanity? No; to rend something, to obliterate + something that was beautiful. Demolition. Go on. You will tear and rend + until exhaustion comes, then some citizen king, some headstrong Napoleon, + will step in. The French Revolution taught you nothing. You play 'The + Marseillaise' in the Neva Prospekt and miss the significance of that song. + Liberty? You choose license. Equality? You deny it in your acts. + Fraternity? You slaughter your brothers.” + </p> + <p> + “Be silent!” roared Karlov, wavering. + </p> + <p> + But Gregor continued with a new-found hope. He saw that his jeers were + wearing down the other's control. Perhaps the weak side was the political. + Karlov was a fanatic. There might yet be death in those straining fingers. + </p> + <p> + “To seize by confiscation, without justice, indiscriminately all that the + group efficient laboriously constructed. I enter your house, kill your + family and steal your silver. Are your acts fundamentally different from + mine? Remember, I am speaking from the point of view as three quarters of + Russia see it, and all the other civilized nations. There may be something + magnificent in that soviet constitution of yours; but you have deluged it + in blood and folly. Ostensibly you are dividing up the great estates, but + actually you are parcelling them out and charging rent. You will not own + anything. The state shall own all the property. What will be the + patriotism of the man who has nothing? Why defend something that is only + his government's, not his own? You are legalizing women as cows. The sense + of motherhood will vanish when a woman may not select her mate. What is + the greatest thing in the world? The human need of possession. To own + something, however little. The spur of creative genius. Human beings will + never be equal except in lawful privileges. The skillful will outpace the + unskillful; the thrifty will take from the improvident; genius will + overtop mediocrity. And you will change all this with a scrape of your + bloody pen!” + </p> + <p> + Karlov's body began to rock and sway like an angry bear's; but still he + held his ground. Gregor wanted to die, to cheat him. + </p> + <p> + “What of power?” went on his baiter. “Capitalism of might. Lenine and + Trotzky; are they—have they been—honest? Has Russia actually + voted them into office? They sit in the seats of the mighty by the + capitalism of force. For the capitalism of money, which is progress + physical and moral, you substitute the capitalism of force, which is + terror. You speak of yourselves as internationalists. Bats, that is the + judgment day of God—internationalism! For only on the judgment day + will nations become a single people.” + </p> + <p> + A short silence. Gregor was beginning to grow weak. Presently he picked up + the thread of his diatribe. + </p> + <p> + “I have lived in England, France, Italy, and here. I am competent to draw + comparisons. Where you went to distill poison I went to absorb facts. And + I found that here in this great democracy is the true idea. But you will + not read the lesson.” + </p> + <p> + Sweat began to drop from Karlov's beetling eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “You will fail miserably here. Why? Because the Americans are the greatest + of individual property owners. The sense of possession is satisfied. And + woe to the fool who suggests they surrender this. Little wooden houses, + thousands and thousands of them, with a small plot of ground in the rear + where a man in the springtime may dig his hands into the soil and say + gratefully to God, 'Mine, mine!' I, too, am a Russ. I thought in the + beginning that you would take this country as an example, a government of + the people, by the people, for the people. Wrongs? Yes. But day by day + these wrongs are being righted. No lesson in this for Trotzky, a beer-hall + orator like yourself. Ten million men drafted to carry arms. Did they + revolt? Shoulder to shoulder the selected millions marched to the great + ships, shoulder to shoulder they pressed toward the Rhine. No lesson in + that! + </p> + <p> + “Capitalism, seeking to save its loans, you rant! Capitalism of blood and + money that asked only for simple justice to mankind. The ideal of a great + people—a mixture of all bloods, even German! No lessons in these + tremendous happenings! And you babble about your damned proletariat who + represents the dregs of Russia. What is he? The inefficient, whining that + the other man has the luck, so kill him! Russia, the kindly ox, fallen + among wolves! You cannot tear down the keystone of civilization—which + took seven thousand years to construct—insert it upside down, and + expect the arch to stand. You have your chance to prove your theories. + Prove them in Petrograd and Moscow, and you will not have to go forth with + the torch. And what is this torch but the hidden fear that you may be + wrong?... To wreck the world before you are found out! You are idiots, and + you have turned Russia into a madhouse! Spawns from the dung-heap!” + </p> + <p> + “Damn you, Stefani Gregor!” Karlov rushed to the cot, raised his terrible + fists, his chest heaving. Gregor waited. “No, no! You wish to die!” The + madman swung on his heels and dashed toward the door, sweeping the pieces + of the violin to the floor as he passed the table. + </p> + <p> + Gregor feebly drew himself back upon his cot and laid his face in the + pillow. + </p> + <p> + “Ivan—my violin—all that I knew and loved—gone! And God + will not let me die!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + From a window in one of the vacant warehouses, twenty-odd feet away Cutty, + from an oblique angle, had witnessed the peculiar drama without being able + to grasp head or tail to it. For two hours he had crouched behind his + window, watching the man on the cot and wondering if he would ever turn + his face toward the candlelight. Then Karlov had entered. Gregor's ironic + calm—with the exception of the time he had bared his throat—and + Karlov's tempestuous exit baffled him. To the eye it had the appearance of + a victory for Gregor and a defeat for Karlov, but Cutty had long ago + ceased to believe his eyes without some corroborative evidence of + auricular character. + </p> + <p> + He had recognized both men. Karlov answered to Kitty's description as an + old glove answers to the hand. And no man, once having seen Gregor, could + possibly forget his picturesque head. The old chap was alive! This fact + made the night's adventure tally one hundred per cent. How to get a cheery + word to him, to buck him up with, the promise of help? A hard nut to + crack; so many obstacles. Primarily, this was a Federal affair. Yonder hid + the werewolf and his pack, and it would be folly to send them scattering + just for the sake of advising Gregor that he was being watched over. + </p> + <p> + Underneath the official obligation there was a personal interest in not + risking the game to warn Gregor. Cutty was now positive that the drums of + jeopardy were hidden somewhere in this house. To perform three acts, then: + Save Gregor, capture Karlov and his pack, and privately confiscate the + emeralds. Findings were keepings. No compromise regarding those green + stones. It would not particularly hurt his reputation with St. Peter to + play the half rogue once in a lifetime. Besides, St. Peter, hadn't he + stolen something himself back there in the Biblical days; or got into a + scrape or something? The old boy would understand. Cutty grinned in the + dark. + </p> + <p> + Any obsession is a blindfold. A straight course lay open to Cutty, but he + chose the labyrinthian because he was obsessed. He wanted those emeralds. + Nothing less than the possession of them would, to his thinking, round out + a varied and active career. Later, perhaps, he would declare the stones to + the customs and pay the duty; perhaps. Thus his subsequent mishaps this + night may be laid to the fact that he thought and saw through green + spectacles. + </p> + <p> + The idea that the jewels were hidden near by made it imperative that he + should handle this affair exclusively. Coles, the operative he had sent to + negotiate with Karlov, was conceivably a prisoner upstairs or down. Coles + knew about the drums, and they must not turn up under his eye. Federal + property, in that event. + </p> + <p> + If ever he laid his hands upon the drums he would buy something gorgeous + for Kitty. Little thoroughbred! + </p> + <p> + Time for work. Without doubt Karlov had cellar exits through this + warehouse or the other. The job on hand would be first to locate these + exits, and then to the trap on the roof. With his pocket lamp blazing a + trail he went down to the cellar and carefully inspected the walls that + abutted those of the house. Nothing on this side. + </p> + <p> + He left the warehouse and hugged the street wall for a space. The street + was deserted. Instead of passing Karlov's abode he wisely made a detour of + the block. He reached the entrance to the second warehouse without + sighting even a marauding tom. In the cellar of this warehouse he + discovered a newly made door, painted skillfully to represent the + limestone of the foundation. Tiptop. + </p> + <p> + Immediately he outlined the campaign. There should be two drives—one + from the front and another from the roof—so that not an anarchist or + Bolshevik could escape. The mouth of the Federal sack should be held at + this cellar exit. No matter what kind of game he played offside, the raid + itself must succeed absolutely. Nothing should swerve him from making + these plans as perfect as it was humanly possible. He would be on hand to + search Karlov himself. If the drums were not on him he would return and + pick the old mansion apart, lath by lath. Gay old ruffian, wasn't he? + </p> + <p> + Another point worth considering: He would keep his discoveries under cover + until the hour to strike came. Some over-zealous subordinate might attempt + a coup on his own and spoil everything. + </p> + <p> + He picked his way to the far end of the cellar, to the doors. Locks gone. + He took it for granted that the real-estate agent would not come round + with prospective tenants. These doors would take them into the trucking + alley, where there were a dozen feasible exits. There was no way out of + the house yard, as the brick wall, ten feet high and running from + warehouse to warehouse, was blind. Now for the trap on the roof. + </p> + <p> + He climbed the three flights of stairs crisscrossed and festooned with + ancient cobwebs. Occasionally he sneezed in the crook of his elbow, + philosophizing over the fact that there was a lot of deadwood property in + New York. Americans were eternally on the move. + </p> + <p> + The window from which he intended dropping to the house roof was obdurate. + Only the upper half was movable. With hardly any noise at all he pulled + this down, straddled it, balanced himself, secured a good grip on the + ledge, and let himself down. The tips of his shoes, rubber-soled, just + reached the roof. He landed silently. + </p> + <p> + The glare of the street lamp at the corner struck the warehouse, and this + indirect light was sufficient to work by. He made the trap after a series + of extra-cautious steps. The roof was slanting and pebbled, and the least + turn of the foot might start a cascade and bell an alarm. A comfort-loving + dress-suiter like himself, playing Old Sleuth, when he ought to be home + and in bed! It was all of two-thirty. What the deuce would he do when + there were no more thrills in life? + </p> + <p> + He stooped and caught hold of a corner of the trap to test it—and + drew back with a silent curse. Glass! He had cut his hand. The beggars had + covered the trap with cement and broken glass, sealing it. It would take + time to cut round the trap; and even then he wouldn't be sure; they might + have nailed it down from the inside. The worst of it was he would have to + do the work himself; and in the meantime Karlov would have a fair wind for + his propaganda gas, and perhaps the disposal of the drums to some + collector who wasn't above bargaining for smuggled emeralds. Odd, though, + that Karlov should have made a prisoner of Coles. What lay behind that + manoeuvre? Well, this trap must be liberated; no getting round that. + </p> + <p> + Hang it, he wasn't going to be dishonest exactly; it would be simply a + double play, half for Uncle Sam and half for himself. The idea of offering + freely his blood and money to Uncle Sam and at the same time putting one + over on the old gentleman had a novel appeal. + </p> + <p> + He stood up and wiped a tickling cobweb from his cheek. As the window from + which he had descended came into range he stared, loose-jawed. Then be + chuckled, as thoroughbred adventurers generally chuckle when they find + themselves at the bottom of the sack, the mouth of which has + simultaneously and automatically closed. Wasn't he the brainy old top? + Wasn't he Sherlock Holmes plus? Old fool, how the devil was he going to + get back through that window? + </p> + <p> + The drums of jeopardy—even to think of them was unlucky! Not to have + planned a retreat; to have climbed down a well and cut the bucket rope! + For in effect that was precisely what he had done. Only wings could carry + him up to that window. With sardonic humour he felt of his shoulder + blades. Not a feather in sight. Then he touched his ears. Ah, here was + something definite; they had grown several inches during the past few + hours. Monumental ass! + </p> + <p> + Of course there would be the drain. He could escape; but, dear Lord! with + enough noise to wake the dead. And that would write “Finis” to this + particular adventure. The quarry and the emeralds would be gone before he + could return with help. When everything had gone so smoothly—a jolt + like this! + </p> + <p> + A crowded day, and no mistake, as full of individual acts as a bill at a + vaudeville, trained-animal act last. Was it possible that he had gone + fiddle hunting that morning, netting an Amati worth ten thousand dollars? + Hawksley—no, he couldn't blame Hawksley. Still, if this young + Humpty-Dumpty hadn't been pushed off his wall he, Cutty, would not now be + marooned upon this roof 'twixt the devil and the deep blue sea. To remain + here until sunrise would be impossible; to slide down the drain was + equally impossible—that is, if he ever wanted to see Boris Karlov + again. The way of the transgressor was hard. + </p> + <p> + He sat on his heels and let his gaze rove four-square, permitting no + object to escape. He saw a clothes pole leaning against the chimney. + Evidently the former tenants had hung up their laundry here. There was no + clothesline, however. Caught, jolly well, blooming well caught! If ever + this got abroad he would be laughed out of the game. He wasn't going to + put one over on Uncle Sam after all. There might be some kind of a fire + escape on the front of the house. No harm in taking a look; it would serve + to pass the time. + </p> + <p> + There was the usual frontal parapet about three feet in height. Upturned + in the shadow lay a gift from the gods-a battered kitchen chair, probably + used to reach the clothesline in the happy days when the word “Bolshevism” + was known to only a select few dark angels. + </p> + <p> + Cutty waved a hand cheerfully if vaguely toward his guiding star, picked + up the chair, commandeered the clothes pole, and silently manoeuvred to + the wall of the warehouse. Standing on the chair he placed the tip of the + pole against the top of the upper frame and pushed the frame halfway up. + He repeated this act upon the obdurate lower half. He heaved slowly but + with all his force. Glory be, the lower half went up far enough to afford + ingress! He would eat his breakfast in the apartment as usual. To-morrow + night he would establish his line of retreat by fetching a light rope + ladder. There was sweat at the roots of his hair, however, when he finally + gained the street. He was very tired. He observed mournfully that the + vigour which had always recharged itself, no matter how recklessly he had + drawn upon it, was beginning to protest. Fifty-two. + </p> + <p> + Well, his troubles were over for the night. So he believed. Arriving home, + dirty and spent, he had to find Kitty asleep on the divan! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + “Kitty,” he said, breaking the tableau, “what are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “You've been hurt! There is blood on you!” + </p> + <p> + “A trifling cut. But I'm hurt, nevertheless, that you should be so + thoughtless as to come here against my orders. It doesn't matter that + Karlov has given up the idea of having you followed. But for the sake of + us all you must be made to understand that we are dealing with high + explosives and poison gas. It's not what might happen to me or to Uncle + Sam's business. It's you. Any moment they may take it into their heads to + get at me and Hawksley through you. That's why we watch over you. You + don't want to see Hawksley done in, do you? It's real tragedy, Kitty, and + nobody can guess what the end is going to be.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty's lip quivered. “Cutty, if you talk like that to me I shall cry.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, what about?”—bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “About everything. I've been on the verge of hysterics all day.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, you poor child, what's happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—everything. Lonesome. When I saw all those mothers and + wives and sisters and sweethearts on the curb to-day, watching their boys + march by, it hit me hard. I was alone. Nobody. So please don't be cross + with me. I'm on the ragged edge. Silly, I know. But we women often go to + pieces over nothing, without any logical reason. Ready to face murder and + battle and sudden death; and then to blow up, as you men say it, over + nothing. I had to move, go somewhere, do something; so I came here. But I + came on—what do you call it?—official business. Here!” She + offered him the wallet. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” + </p> + <p> + “Belongs to Johnny Two-Hawks. He hid it that night behind my flatirons on + the range. Why, Cutty, he's rich!” + </p> + <p> + “Did he show the contents?” + </p> + <p> + “Only the money and the bonds. He said if he had died the money and bonds + would have been mine. + </p> + <p> + “Providing Gregor was also dead.” Cutty looked into the wallet, but + disturbed nothing. “I imagine these funds are actually Gregor's.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me to give the wallet to you. And so I waited. I fell asleep. So + please don't scold me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a brute! But it's because you've become so much to me that I was + angry. You're Tommy and Molly's girl, and I've got to watch out for you + until you reach some kind of a port.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for the flowers. You'll never know just what they did for me. + There was somebody who gave me a thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, I honestly don't get you. A beauty like you, lonesome!” + </p> + <p> + “That's it. I am pretty. Why should I deny it? If I'd been homely I + shouldn't have been ashamed to invite my friends to my shabby home. I + shouldn't have cold shouldered everybody through false pride. But where + have you been, and what have you been doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Official business. But I just missed being a fine jackass. I'll look into + the wallet after I've cleaned up. I'm a mess of gore and dust. Is it + interesting stuff?” dreading her answer. + </p> + <p> + “The wallet? I did not look into it. I had no right.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Well, I'll be back in two jigs.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried off, relieved to learn that the secret was still beyond Kitty's + knowledge. Of course Hawksley wouldn't carry anything in the wallet by + which his true identity might be made known. Still, there would be stuff + to excite her interest and suspicion. Hawksley had shown her some of that + three hundred thousand probably. What a game! + </p> + <p> + He would say nothing about his own adventures and discoveries. He worked + on the theory that the best time to tell about something was after it had + become a fact. But no theory is perfect; and in this instance his + reticence was going to cost him intolerable agony in the near future. + </p> + <p> + Within a quarter of an hour he was back in the living room. Kitty was out + of sight; probably had curled up on the divan again. He would not disturb + her. Hawksley's wallet! He drew a chair under the reading lamp and + explored the wallet. Money and bonds he rather expected, but the customs + appraiser's receipt was like a buffet. The emeralds belonged honorably to + his guest! All his own plans were knocked galley-west by this discovery. + </p> + <p> + An odd sense of indignation blazed up in him, as though someone had + imposed upon him. The sport was gone, the fun of the thing; it became + merely official business. To appropriate a pair of smuggled emeralds was a + first-class sporting proposition, with a humorous twist. As it stood now, + he would be picking Hawksley's pocket; and he wasn't rogue enough for + that. Hang the luck! + </p> + <p> + Emeralds, rubies, sapphires, pearls, and diamonds! No doubt many of them + with histories—in a bag hung to his neck—and all these + thousands of miles! Not since the advent of the Gaekwar of Baroda into San + Francisco, in 1910, had so many fine stones passed through that port of + entry. + </p> + <p> + But why hadn't Hawksley inquired about them? Stoic indifference? A good + loser? How had he got through the customs without a lot of publicity? The + Russian consul of the old regime probably; and an appraiser who was a good + sport. To have come safely to his destination, and then to have lost out! + The magnificent careless generosity of putting the wallet behind Kitty's + flatirons, to be hers if he didn't pull through! Why, this fiddling + derelict was a man! Stood up and fought Karlov with his bare fists; wasn't + ashamed to weep over his mother's photograph; and fiddled like Heifetz. + All right. This Johnny Two-Hawks, as Kitty persisted in calling him, was + going to reach his Montana ranch. His friend Cutty would take it upon + himself to see to that. + </p> + <p> + It struck him that after all he would have to play the game as he had + planned it. Those gems falling into the hands of the Federal agents would + surely bring to light Hawksley's identity; and Hawksley should have his + chance. + </p> + <p> + Cutty then came upon the will. Somehow the pathos of it went deep into his + heart. The poor devil!—a will that hadn't been witnessed, the + handwriting the same as that on the passport. If he had fallen into the + hands of the police they would have justifiably locked him up as a murder + suspect. Two-Hawks! It was a small world. He returned the contents to the + wallet, leaving out the will, however. This he thrust into a drawer. + </p> + <p> + “Coffee?” said Kitty at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty? I'd forgotten you! I thought I smelt coffee. Just what I wanted, + too, only I hadn't brains enough left to think of it. Smells better than + anything Kuroki makes.... Tastes better, too. You're going to make some + lucky duffer a fine wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything you can tell me, Cutty?” + </p> + <p> + “A whole lot, Kitty; only I'm twenty years too old.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the wallet. Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + Cutty drained the cup slowly. A good coherent lie, to appease Kitty's + curiosity; half a truth, something hard to nail. He set down the empty + cup, building. By the time he had filled his pipe and lit it he was ready. + </p> + <p> + Something bored up through the subconscious, however—a query. Why + hadn't he told her the plain truth at the start? Wasn't on account of the + drums. He hadn't kept her in the dark because of the drums. He could have + trusted her with that part of it—his tentative piracy. That to + divulge Hawksley's identity would be a menace to her peace of mind now + appeared ridiculous; and yet he had worked forward from this assumption. + No answer to the query. Generally he thought clearly enough; but somewhere + along this route he had made a muddle of things and couldn't find the + spot. The only point clearly defined was that he should wish to keep her + out of the affair because there were elements of positive danger. But + somewhere inside of him was a question asking for recognition, and it + eluded him. Nothing could be solved until this question got out of the + fog. Even now he might risk the whole truth; but the lie he had woven + appeared too good to waste. + </p> + <p> + Human frailty. The most accomplished human being is the finished liar. + Never to forget a detail, to remember step by step the windings, over a + ticklish road. And Cutty, for all his wide newspaper experience, was a + poor liar because he had been brought up on facts. Perhaps his lie might + have passed had he not been so fagged. The physical labours of the night + had dulled his perceptions. + </p> + <p> + “Ab, but that tastes good!”—as he blew forth a wavering ring of + smoke. + </p> + <p> + “It ought to have at least one merit,” replied Kitty, wrinkling her nose. + What a fine profile Cutty had! “Now, who and what is he? I'm dying to + know.” + </p> + <p> + “An odd story; probably hundreds like it. You see, the Bolsheviki have + driven out of the country or killed all the nobles and bourgeoisie. Some + of them have escaped—into China, Sweden, India, wherever they could + find an open route. To his story there are many loose ends, and Hawksley + is not the talking kind. You mustn't repeat what I tell you. Hawksley, + with all that money and a forged English passport, would have a good deal + of trouble explaining if he ran afoul the police. There is no real proof + that the money is his or Gregor's. As a matter of fact, it is Gregor's, + and Hawksley was bringing it to him. Hawksley is Gregor's protege.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty nodded. This dovetailed with what Johnny Two-Hawks had told her that + night. + </p> + <p> + “How the two came together originally I don't know. Gregor was in his + younger days a great violinist, but unknown to the American public. Early + in his career he speculated with his concert earnings and turned a pot of + money. He dropped the professional career for that of a country gentleman. + He had a handsome estate, and lived sensibly. He sent Hawksley to England + to school and spent a good deal of time there with him, teaching him how + to play the fiddle, for which it seems Hawksley had a natural bent. He had + to Anglicize his name; for Two-Hawks would have made people laugh. To be a + gentleman, Kitty, one does not have to be a prince or a grand duke. Gregor + was a polished gentleman, and he turned Hawksley into one.” + </p> + <p> + Again Kitty nodded, her eyes sparkling. + </p> + <p> + “The Russ—the educated Russ—is a queer biscuit. Got to have a + finger in some political pie, and political pies in Russia before the war + were lese-majesty. The result—Gregor got in wrong with his secret + society and the political police and was forced to fly to save his life. + But before he fled he had all his convertible funds transferred. Only his + estate was confiscated. Hawksley was in London when the war broke out. + There was a lot of red tape, naturally, regarding the funds. I shan't + bother you with that, Hawksley, hoping to better his protector's future, + returned to Russia and joined his regiment and fought until the Czar + abdicated. Foretasting the trend of events, he tried to get back to + England, but that was impossible. He was permitted to retire to the Gregor + estate, where he remained until the uprising of the Bolsheviki. Then he + started across the world to join Gregor.” + </p> + <p> + “That was brave.” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly was. I imagine that Hawksley's journey has that of Ulysses + laid away on the shelf. Karlov was the head of the society which had voted + Gregor's death. So he had agents watching Hawksley. And Karlov himself + undertook the chase across Russia, China, and the Pacific.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad I gave him something to eat. But Gregor, a valet in a hotel, + with all that money!” + </p> + <p> + “The red tape.” + </p> + <p> + “What a dizzy world we live in, Cutty!” + </p> + <p> + “Dizzy is the word.” Cutty sighed. His yarn had passed a very shrewd + censor. “Karlov feels it his duty to kill off all his countryman who do + not agree with his theories. He wanted these funds here, but Hawksley was + too clever for him. Remember, now, not a word of this to Hawksley. I tell + you this in confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to spend the night here. It's round four, and the power has + been shut off. There's the stairs, but it would be dawn before you reach + the street.” + </p> + <p> + “Who cares?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I don't believe you're in a good mood to send back to that garlicky + warren. I wish to the Lord you'd leave it!” + </p> + <p> + “It's difficult to find anything desirable within my means. Rents are + terrifying. I'll sleep on the divan. A rug or a blanket. I'm a silly fool, + I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “You can have a guest room.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather the divan; less scandalous. Cutty, I forgot. He played for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “What? He did?” + </p> + <p> + “I had to run out of the room because some things he said choked me up. + Didn't care whether he died or not. He was even lonelier than I. I lay + down on the divan, and then I heard music. Funny, but somehow I fancied he + was calling me back; and I had to hang on to the divan. Cutty, he is a + great violinist.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you fond of music?” + </p> + <p> + “I am mad about it! I'm always running round to concerts; and I'd walk + from Battery to Bronx to hear a good violinist.” + </p> + <p> + Fiddles and Irish hearts. Swiftly came the vision of Hawksley fiddling the + heart out of this lonely girl—if he had the chance. And he, Cutty, + was going to fascinate her—with what? He rose and took her by the + shoulders, bringing her round so that the light was full in her face. + Slate-blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, what would you say if I kissed you?” Inwardly he asked: “Now, what + the devil made me say that?” + </p> + <p> + The sinister and cynical idea leaped from its ambush. “Why, Cutty, I—I + don't believe I should mind. It's—it's you!” Vile wretch that she + was! + </p> + <p> + Cutty, noting the lily succeeding the rose, did not kiss her. Fate has a + way of reversing the illogical and giving it logical semblance. It was + perfectly logical that he should not kiss her; and yet that was exactly + what he should have done. The fatherliness of the salute—and he + couldn't have made it anything else—would have shamed Kitty's + peculiar state of mind out of existence and probably sent back to its + eternal sleep that which was strangely reawaking in his lonely heart. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Kitty. That wasn't exactly nice of me, even if I was trying + to be funny.” + </p> + <p> + She tore away from him, flung herself upon the divan, her face in the + pillows, and let down the dam. + </p> + <p> + This wild sobbing—apparently without any reason terrified Cutty. He + put both hands into his hair, but he drew them out immediately without + retaining any of the thinning gray locks. Done up, both of them; that was + the matter. He longed to console her, but knew not what to say or how to + act. He had not seen a woman weep like this in so many years that he had + forgotten the remedies. + </p> + <p> + Should he call the nurse? But that would only add to Kitty's + embarrassment, and the nurse would naturally misinterpret the situation. + He couldn't kneel and put his arms round her; and yet it was a situation + that called for arms and endearments. He had sense enough to recognize + that. Molly's girl crying like that, and he able to do nothing! It was + intolerable. But what was she weeping about? + </p> + <p> + Covering the divan was a fine piece of Bokhara embroidery. He drew this + down over Kitty and tucked her in, turned off the light, and proceeded to + his bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Kitty's sobs died eventually. There was an occasional hiccup. That, too, + disappeared. To play—or even think of playing—a game like + that! She was despicable. A silly little fool, too, to suppose that so + keen a mind as Cutty's would not see through the artifice! What was + happening to her that she could let such a thought into her head? + </p> + <p> + By and by she was able to pick up Cutty's narrative and review it. Not a + word about the drums of jeopardy, the mark of the thong round Hawksley's + neck. Hadn't she let him know that she knew the author of that + advertisement offering to buy the drums, no questions asked? Very well, + then; if he would not tell her the truth she would have to find it out + herself. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Cutty sat on the edge of his bed staring blankly at the rug, + trying to find a pick-up to the emotions that beset him. One thing issued + clearly: He had wanted to kiss the child. He still wanted to kiss her. Why + hadn't he? Unanswerable. It was still unanswerable even when the pallor of + dawn began slowly to absorb the artificial light of his bed lamp. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + When Cutty awoke—having had about two hours' sleep—he was + instantly conscious that the zest had gone from the adventure. It had + resolved itself into official business into which he had projected himself + gratuitously; and having assumed the offices of chief factor, he would + have to see the affair through, victim of his own greediness. It did not + serve to marshal excuses. He had frankly entered the affair in the role of + buccaneer; and here he was, high and dry on the reef. + </p> + <p> + The drums of jeopardy, so far as he was concerned, had been shot into the + moon two hundred thousand miles out of reach. He found himself resenting + Hawksley's honesty in the matter of the customs. + </p> + <p> + But immediately this sense of resentment caused him to chuckle. Certainly + some ancestor of his had been a Black Bart or a Galloping Dick. + </p> + <p> + He would put a few straight questions to Hawksley, however. To have lost + all those precious stones and not to have inquired about them was a bit + foggy, wasn't normal, human. Unless—bang on the plexus came the + thought!—the beggar had hidden them himself. He had been exceedingly + clever in hiding the wallet. Come to think of it, he hadn't mentioned + that, either. Of course he had hidden the stones—either in Gregor's + apartment or in Kitty's. Blind as a bat. Now he understood why Karlov had + made a prisoner of Coles. The old buzzard had sensed a trap and had + countered it. The way of the transgressor was hard. His punishment for + entertaining a looter's idea would be work when he wanted to loaf and + enjoy himself. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at Hawksley's door he was confronted by a spectacle not without + its humorous touch: The nurse extending a bowl and Hawksley staring at the + sky beyond the window, stonily. + </p> + <p> + “But you must!” insisted Miss Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Chops or beefsteak!” + </p> + <p> + “It will give you nausea.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to find out. Dash it, I'm hungry!” Hawksley declared. “I'm no + fever patient. A smart rap on the head; nothing more than that. Healthy + food will draw the blood down from there. Haven't lost anything but a few + hours of consciousness, and you treat me as though I'd been jolly well + peppered with shrapnel and gassed. Touch that stuff? Rather not! Chops or + beefsteak!” + </p> + <p> + “Let him have it, Miss Frances,” advised Cutty from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “But it's unusual,” replied the nurse as a final protest. + </p> + <p> + “Give it a try. Is he strong enough to sit up through breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “He's really not fit. But if he insists on doing the one he might as well + do the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Righto!”—from the patient. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell Kuroki to make it a beefsteak breakfast for four? I know + how Mr. Hawksley feels. Been through the same bout.” Cutty wanted Miss + Frances out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Only, I've warned him.” Miss Frances left, somewhat miffed. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” said Hawksley, smiling. “She thinks I'm a canary.” + </p> + <p> + “Whereas you're an eagle.” + </p> + <p> + “Or a vulture.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty chew up a chair. “Frankly, I believe a good breakfast will put you a + peg up.” + </p> + <p> + “A beefsteak!” Hawksley stared ecstatically at the ceiling. “You see, I'm + naturally tough. Always went in for rough sports—football, rowing, + boxing. Poor old Stefani's idea; and not so bad, either. Of course he was + always worrying about my hands; but I always took great care to keep them + soft and pliant. Which sounds rummy, considering the pounding I used to + give and take. My word, I used to go to bed with my hands done up in + ointments like a professional beauty! Of course I'm dizzy yet, and the + bally spot is sore; but solid food and some exercise will have me off your + hands in no time. I don't fancy being coddled, y'know. I've been trouble + enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let that worry you. I'll bring some togs in; flannels and soft + shirts. We're about the same height. Anyhow, the difference won't be + noticeable in flannels. I've had to tell Miss Conover a bit of fiction. + I'll tell you, so if need arises you can back me up.” + </p> + <p> + When Cutty finished his romance Hawksley frowned. “All said and done, if + I'm not that splendid old chap's protege, what am I? But for his patience + and kindness I'd have run true to the blood. He was with me at the + balancing age, when a chap becomes a man or a rotter. He actually gave up + a brilliant career because of me. He is a great musician, with that + strange faculty of taking souls out of people and untwisting them. I have + the gift, too, in a way; but there's always a bit of the devil in me when + I play. Natural bent, I fancy. And they've killed him!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Cutty, slowly. “But this is for your ear alone: He's alive; and + one of these days I'll bring him to you. So buck up.” + </p> + <p> + “Alive! Stefani alive!” whispered Hawksley. He stretched out his hand + rather blindly, and Cutty was surprised at the strength of the grip. + “Makes me feel choky. I say, are all Americans good Samaritans?” + </p> + <p> + Cutty put this aside because he did not care to disillusion Hawksley. “I + found an appraiser's receipt in your wallet. You carried some fine jewels. + Did you hide them or did Karlov get them? It struck me as odd that you + haven't inquired about them.” The change that came into Hawksley's face + alarmed Cutty. The rich olive skin became chalky and the eyes closed. + “What is it? Shall I call Miss Frances?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” Hawksley opened his eyes, but looked dully straight ahead. “The + stones! I was trying to forget! My God, I was trying to forget!” + </p> + <p> + “But they were yours?” Cutty was mystified beyond expression. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mine, mine, mine!”—panting. “Damn them! Some day I'll tell + you. But just now I can't toe the mark. I was trying to forget them! + Against my heart, gnawing into my soul like the beetle of the Spanish + Inquisition!” Silence. “But they were future bread and butter—for + Gregor as well as for myself. They got them, and may they damn Karlov as + they have damned me! I had no chance when I returned to Gregor's. They + were on me instantly. I put up a fight, but I'd come from a lighted room + and was practically blind. Let them go. Most of those stones came out of + hell, anyhow. Let them go. There is an unknown grave between those stones + and me.” + </p> + <p> + The level despair of the tone appalled Cutty. A crime somewhere? There was + still a bottom to this affair he had not plumbed? He rose, deeply + agitated. + </p> + <p> + “I'll fetch those togs for you. Miss Conover will breakfast with us, and + the sight of her will give you a brace. I'm sorry. I had to ask you.” + </p> + <p> + “Beefsteak and a pretty girl! That's something. I suppose she was trapped + by the lift not running.” Hawksley was trying to meet Cutty halfway to + cover up the tragedy. “I say, why the deuce do you let her live where she + does?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I'm not legally her guardian. She is the daughter of the man and + woman I loved best. All I can do is to watch over her. She lives on her + earnings as a newspaper writer. I'd give her half of all I have if I had + the least idea she would accept it.” + </p> + <p> + “Fond of her?” + </p> + <p> + “Fond of her!” repeated Cutty. “Why, of course I'm fond of her!” There was + a touch of indignation in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Is she fond of you?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so.” What was the chap driving at? + </p> + <p> + “Then marry her,” suggested Hawksley with a cynical smile; “make a + settlement and give her her freedom. Simple enough. What?” + </p> + <p> + Cutty stepped back, stunned and terrified. “She would laugh at me!” + </p> + <p> + “You never can tell,” replied Hawksley, maintaining the crooked smile. The + devil was blazing in his eyes now. “Try it. It's being done every day; + even here in this big America of yours. From the European point of view + you have compromised her—or she has compromised herself, by spending + the night here. Convention has been disregarded. A ripping good chance, I + call it. You tell me she wouldn't accept benefits, and you want to help + her. If she's the kind I believe her to be, even if she refuses you she + will not be angry. You never can tell what woman will or won't do.” + </p> + <p> + An old and forgotten bit of mental machinery began to set up a + ditter-datter in Cutty's brain. Marry Kitty? Make a settlement, and then + give her her freedom? Rot! Girls of Kitty's calibre were above such + expediencies. He tried to resurrect his interest in the drums of jeopardy, + which he might now appropriate without having to shanghai his conscience. + The clitter-clatter smothered it; indeed, this new racket upset and + demoralized the well-ordered machinery of his thinking apparatus as + applied daily. Marry Kitty! + </p> + <p> + “I'm old enough to be her father.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that to do with it so long as convention is satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + Cutty was so shaken and confused that he missed the tragic irony of the + voice. All the receptive avenues to his brain seemed to have shut down + suddenly. He was conscious only of the clitter-clatter. Marry Kitty! + </p> + <p> + “You can't settle money on her,” went on Hawksley, “without scandal. You + can't offer her anything without offending her. And you can't let her go + to rust without having her bit of good times.” + </p> + <p> + “Utterly impossible,” said Cutty, to the idea rather than to his + tormentor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course, if you have an affair—No, God forgive me, I don't + mean that! I'm a damned ingrate! But your bringing up those stones and + knocking off the top of all the misery piling up in my heart! I was only + trying to hurt you, hurt myself, everybody. Please have a little patience + with me, for I've come out of hell!” Hawksley turned aside his head. + </p> + <p> + “Buck up,” said Cutty, his blazing wrath dropping to a smoulder. “I'll + fetch those togs.” + </p> + <p> + What had the boy done to fill him with such tragic bitterness? Was he + Two-Hawks? Cutty dismissed this doubt instantly. He recalled the episode + of the boy's conduct when confronted by the photograph of his mother. No + human being could be a play actor in such a moment. The boy's emotion had + been deep and real. Cutty recognized the fact that he had become as a + block in the middle of a Chinese puzzle; only Fate could move him to his + appointed place. + </p> + <p> + But offer marriage to Kitty so that he could provide for her! Mechanically + he rummaged his clothes press for the suit he was to take to Hawksley. + Well, why not? He could settle five thousand a year on her. His departure + for the Balkans—he might be gone a year or more—could be + legally construed as desertion. And with pretty clothes and freedom she + would soon find some young chap to her liking. But would a girl like Kitty + see it from his point of view? The marriage could take place an hour or + two before he went aboard his ship. Hang it, Hawksley wasn't so far off. + Kitty couldn't possibly be offended if he laid the business squarely on + the table. To provide for Molly's girl! + </p> + <p> + When Kuroki announced that breakfast was ready, Cutty went into the living + room for Kitty, whom he had not yet seen. He found her by a window + fascinated by the splendour of the panorama as seen in the morning light. + Not a vestige of the tears and disorder in which he had left her. What had + been behind those tears? Dainty and refreshing; to the eye as though she + had stepped out of a bandbox. Compromised? That was utter rot! Wasn't Miss + Frances here? Clitter-clatter, clitter-clatter. But Cutty was not aware + that it was no longer in his head but in his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Breakfast is served, Your Highness,” he announced with a grave salaam. + </p> + <p> + Kitty pirouetted. For some reason she could not explain to herself she + wanted to laugh, sing, dance. Perhaps it was because she was only + twenty-four. Or it might have had its origin in the tonicky awakening + among all these beautiful furnishings. + </p> + <p> + She assumed a haughty expression—such as the Duchess of Gerolstein + assumes when she appoints the private to the office of generalissimo—and + with a careless wave of the hand said: “Summon His Highness!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + Between Cutty's heart and his throat there was very little space at that + moment for the propelment of sound. Kitty Conover had innocently—he + understood that almost immediately and recovered his mental balance—Kitty + had innocently thrown a bomb at his feet. It did not matter that it was a + dud. The result was the same. For a second, then, all the terror, all the + astounding suspension of thought and action attending the arrival of a + shell on the battlefield were his. As an aftermath he would have liked + very much to sit down. Instead, maintaining the mock gravity of his + expression, he offered his arm, which Kitty accepted, still the Grand + Duchess of Gerolstein. Pompously they marched into the dining room. But as + Kitty saw Hawksley she dropped the air confusedly, and hesitated. “Good + gracious!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” Cutty whispered in turn. + </p> + <p> + “My clothes!” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “I slept in them!” + </p> + <p> + If that wasn't like a woman! It did not matter how she might look to an + old codger, aetat. fifty-two; he didn't count. But a handsome young chap, + now, in white flannels and sport shirt, his head bound picturesquely— + </p> + <p> + “Don't let that bother you,” he said. “Those duds of his are mine.” + </p> + <p> + Still, Cutty was grateful for this little diversion. As he drew back + Kitty's chair he was wholly himself again. At once he dictated the trend + of the conversation, moved it whither he willed, into strange channels, + gave them all a glimpse of his amazing versatility, with vivid shafts of + humour to light up corners. + </p> + <p> + Kuroki, who had travelled far with his master these ten years, sometimes + paused in his rounds to nod affirmatively. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley listened intently, wondering a bit. What was the dear old + beggar's idea, throwing such fireworks round at breakfast? He stole a + glance at Kitty to see how she was taking it—and caught her stealing + a glance at him. Instantly both switched back to Cutty. Shortly the little + comedy was repeated because neither could resist the invisible force of + some half-conscious inquiry. Third time, they smiled unembarrassedly. Mind + you, they were both hanging upon Cutty's words; only their eyes were like + little children at church, restless. It was spring. + </p> + <p> + Without being exactly conscious of what he was doing, Hawksley began to + dress Kitty—that is, he visualized her in ball gowns, in sports, in + furs. He put her on horses, in opera boxes, in limousines. But in none of + these pictures could he hold her; she insisted upon returning to her + kitchen to fry bacon and eggs. + </p> + <p> + Then came a twisted thought, rejected only to return; a surprising + thought, so alluring that the sense of shame, of chivalry, could not press + it back. Cutty's words began to flow into one ear and out of the other, + without sense. There was in his heart—put there by the recollection + of the jewels—an indescribable bitterness, a desperate cynicism that + urged him to strike out, careless of friend or foe. Who could say what + would happen to him when he left here? A flash of spring madness, then to + go forth devil-may-care. + </p> + <p> + She was really beautiful, full of unsuspected fire. To fan it into white + flame. The whole affair would depend upon whether she cared for music. If + she did he would pluck the soul out of her. She had saved his life. Well, + what of that? He had broken yonder man's bread and eaten his salt. Still, + what of that? Hadn't he come from a race of scoundrels? The blood—he + had smothered and repressed it all his life—to unleash it once, + happen what might. If she were really fond of music! + </p> + <p> + Once again Kitty's glance roved back to Hawksley. This time she + encountered a concentration in his unwavering stare. She did not quite + like it. Perhaps he was only thinking about something and wasn't actually + seeing her. Still, it quieted down the fluttering gayety of her mood. + There was a sun spot of her own that became visible whenever her interest + in Cutty's monologue lagged. Perhaps Hawksley had his sun spot. + </p> + <p> + “And so,” she heard Cutty say. “Mr. Hawksley is going to become an + American citizen. Kitty, what are some of the principles of good + citizenship?” + </p> + <p> + “To be nice to policemen. Not to meddle with politics, because it is + vulgar. To vote perfunctorily. To 'let George do it' when there are + reforms to be brought about. To keep your hat on when the flag goes by + because otherwise you will attract attention. To find fault without being + able to offer remedies. To keep in debt because life here in America would + be monotonous without bill collectors.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty interrupted with a laugh. “Kitty, you'll 'scare Hawksley off the + map!” + </p> + <p> + “Let him know the worst at once,” retorted Kitty, flashing a smile at the + victim. + </p> + <p> + “Spoofing me—what?” said Hawksley, appealing to his host. + </p> + <p> + This quality of light irony in a woman was a distinct novelty to Hawksley. + She had humour, then? So much the better. An added zest to the game he was + planning. He recalled now that she was not of the clinging kind either. A + woman with a humorous turn of mind was ten times more elusive than a + purely sentimental one. Give him an hour or two with that old Amati—if + she really cared for music! She would be coming to the apartment again—some + afternoon, when his host was out of the way. Better still, he would call + her by telephone; the plea of loneliness. Scoundrel? Of course he was. He + was not denying that. He would embark upon this affair without the smug + varnish of self-lies. Fire—to play with it! + </p> + <p> + He ate his portion of beefsteak, potatoes, and toast, and emptied his + coffee cup. It was really the first substantial meal he had had in many + hours. A feeling of satisfaction began to permeate him. He smiled at Miss + Frances, who shook her head dubiously. She could not quite make him out + pathologically. Perhaps she had been treating him as shell-shocked when + there was nothing at all the matter with his nerves. + </p> + <p> + Presently Kuroki came in with a yellow envelope, which he laid at the side + of Cutty's plate. + </p> + <p> + “Telegrams!” exploded Cutty. “Hang it, I don't want any telegrams!” + </p> + <p> + “Open it and have it over with,” suggested Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't mind.” + </p> + <p> + It was the worst kind of news—a summons to Washington for + conference. Which signified that the Government's plans were completed and + that shortly he would be on his way to Piraeus. + </p> + <p> + A fine muddle! Hawksley in no condition to send upon his way; Kitty's + affair unsettled; the emeralds still in camera obscura; Karlov at liberty + with his infernal schemes, and Stefani Gregor his prisoner. Wild horses, + pulling him two ways. A word, and Karlov would come to the end of his rope + suddenly. But if he issued that word the whole fabric he had erected so + painstakingly would blow away like cardboard. If those emeralds turned up + in the possession of any man but himself the ensuing complications would + be appalling. For he himself would be forced to tell what he knew about + the stones: Hawksley would be thrust conspicuously into the limelight, and + sooner or later some wild anarch would kill him. Known, Hawksley would not + have one chance in a thousand. Kitty would be dragged into the light and + harassed and his own attitude toward her misunderstood. All these things, + if he acted upon his oath. Nevertheless, he determined to risk suspension + of operations until he returned from Washington. There was one sound plank + to cling to. He had first-hand information that anarchistic elements would + remain in their noisome cellars until May first. If he were not ordered + abroad until after that, no harm would follow his suspension of + operations. + </p> + <p> + “Bad news?” asked Kitty, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Aggravating rather than bad. I am called to Washington. May be gone four + or five days. Official business. Leaves things here a bit in the air.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay as long as you need me,” said Miss Frances. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather a man now. You've been a brick. You need rest. I've a chap in + mind. He'll make our friend here toe the mark. A physical instructor, + ex-pugilist; knows all about broken heads.” + </p> + <p> + “I say, that's ripping!” cried Hawksley. “Give me your man, and I'll be + off your hands within a week. The sooner you stop fussing over me the + sooner the crack in my head will cease to bother me. + </p> + <p> + “Kuroki will cook for you and Ryan will put you through the necessary + stunts. The roof, when the weather permits, makes a good exercising + ground. If you'll excuse me I'll do some telephoning. Kuroki, pack my bag + for a five-day trip to Washington. I'll take you down to the office, + Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't fancy I ever will quite understand you,” said Hawksley, leaning + back in his chair, listlessly. “Honestly, now, you'd be perfectly + justified in bundling me off to some hotel. I have funds. Why all this + pother about me?” + </p> + <p> + Cutty smiled. “When I tackle anything I like to carry it through. I want + to put you on your train.” + </p> + <p> + “To be reasonably sure that I shan't come back?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely”—but without smiling. With a vague yet inclusive nod + Cutty hurried off. + </p> + <p> + “It is because he is such a thorough sportsman. Mr. Hawksley,” Kitty + explained. “Having accepted certain obligations he cannot abrogate them + off hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I bother you last night? I mean, did my fiddling?” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy, no! From the hurdy-gurdy of my childhood, down to Kubelik and his + successors, I have been more or less music-mad. You play—wonderfully!” + Sudden, inexplicable shyness. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley smiled. An hour or two with that old Amati. + </p> + <p> + “I am only an unconventional amateur. You should hear Stefani Gregor when + the mood is on. He puts something into your soul that makes you wish to go + forth at once to do some fine, unselfish act.” + </p> + <p> + Stefani Gregor! He thought of the clear white soul of the man who had + surrendered imperishable fame to stand between him and the curse of his + blood; who had for ten years stood between his mother and the dissolute + man whom irony had selected for the part of father. Ten years of + diplomacy, tact, patience. Stefani Gregor! There was the blood, predatory + and untamed; and there was the spirit which the old musician had moulded. + He could not harm this girl. Dead or alive, Stefani Gregor would not + permit it. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley rose slowly and without further speech walked to the corridor + door. He leaned against the jamb for a moment, then went on to his + bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid that breakfast was too much for him,” the nurse ventured. “An + odd young man.” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” replied Kitty, rather absently. She was trying to analyze that + flash of shyness. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Cutty sat down before the telephone. He wanted Kitty out of town + during his absence. In her present excitable mood he was afraid to trust + her. She might surrender to any mad impulse that stirred her fancy. So he + called up Burlingame. Kitty's chief, and together they manufactured an + assignment that was always a pleasant recollection to Kitty. + </p> + <p> + Next, Cutty summoned Professor Billy Ryan to the wire, argued and cajoled + for ten minutes, and won his point. He was always dealing in futures—banking + his favours here and there and drawing checks against them when needed. + </p> + <p> + Then he tackled his men and issued orders suspending operations + temporarily. He was asked what they should do in case Karlov came out into + the open. He answered in such an event not to molest him but to watch and + take note of those with whom he associated. There were big things in the + air, and only he himself had hold of all the threads. He relayed this + information to the actual chief of the local service, from whom he had + borrowed his men. There was no protest. Green spectacles. + </p> + <p> + Quarter to nine he and Kitty entered a subway car and found a corner to + themselves, while Karlov's agent was content with a strap in the crowded + end of the car. + </p> + <p> + Karlov for once had outthought Cutty. He had withdrawn his watchers, + confident that after a day or so his unknown opponent would withdraw his. + During the lull Karlov matured his plans, then resumed operations, + calculating that he would have some forty-odd hours' leeway. + </p> + <p> + His agent was clever. He had followed Kitty from Eightieth Street to the + Knickerbocker Hotel. There he had lost her. He had loitered on the + sidewalk until midnight, and was then convinced that the girl had slipped + by. So he had returned to Eightieth Street; but as late as five in the + morning she had not returned. + </p> + <p> + This agent had followed the banker after his visit to Kitty. He had + watched the banker's house, seen Cutty arrive and depart. Taking a chance + shot in the dark, he had followed Cutty to the office building, learned + that Cutty was the owner and lived in the loft. As Kitty had not returned + home by five he proceeded to take a second chance shot in the dark, + stationing himself across the street from the entrance to the office + building, thereby solving the riddle uppermost in Karlov's mind. He had + found the man in the dress suit. + </p> + <p> + “Cutty, I'm sorry I was such a booby last night. But it was the best thing + that could have happened. The pentupness of it was simply killing me. I + hadn't any one to come to but you—any one who would understand. I + don't know of any man who has a better right to kiss me. I know. You were + just trying to buck me up.” + </p> + <p> + Clitter-clatter! Clitter-clatter! Cutty stared hard at the cement floor. + Marry her, settle a sum on her, and give her her freedom. Molly's girl. + Give her a chance to play. He turned. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, do you trust me?” + </p> + <p> + “Of all the foolish questions!” She pressed his arm. “Why shouldn't I + trust you?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you marry me? Wait! Let me make clear to you what I have in mind. + I'm all alone. I loved your mother. It breaks my heart that while I have + everything in the way of luxuries you have nothing. I can't settle a sum + on you—an income. The world wouldn't understand. Your friends would + be asking questions among themselves. This telegram from Washington means + but one thing: that in a few weeks I shall be on my way to the East. I + shall be mighty unhappy if I have to go leaving you in the rut. This is my + idea: marry me an hour or so before the ship sails. I will leave you a + comfortable income. Lord knows how long I shall be gone. Well, I won't + write. After a year you can regain your freedom on the grounds of + desertion. Simple as falling off a log. It's the one logical way I can + help you. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + Station after station flashed by. Kitty continued stare through the window + across the way, by and by she turned her face toward him, her eyes shining + with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Cutty, there is going to be a nice place in heaven for you some day. I + understand. I believe Mother understands, too. Am I selfish? I can't say + No to you and I can't say Yes. Yet I should be a liar if I did not say + that everything in me leaps toward the idea. It is both hateful and + fascinating. Common sense says Yes; and something else in me says No. I + like dainty things, dainty surroundings. I want to travel, to see + something of the world. I once thought I had creative genius, but I might + as well face the fact that I haven't. Only by accident will I ever earn + more than I'm earning now. In a few years I'll grow old suddenly. You know + what the newspaper game does to women. The rush and hurry of it, the + excitements, the ceaseless change. It is a furnace, and women shrivel up + in it quicker than men.” + </p> + <p> + “There won't be any nonsense, Kitty. An hour before I go aboard my ship. + I'll go back to the job the happiest of men. Molly's girl taken care of! + Just before your father died I promised him I'd keep an eye on you. I + never forgot, but conditions made it impossible. The apartment will be + yours as long as you need it. Kuroki, of course, goes with me. It's merely + going by convention on the blind side. To leave you something in my will + wouldn't serve at all, I'm a tough old codger and may be marked down for a + hale old ninety. All I want is to make you happy and carefree.” + </p> + <p> + “Cutty, I'd like to curl up in some corner and cry, gratefully. I didn't + know there were such men. I just don't know what to do. It isn't as if you + were asking me to be your wife. And as you say, I can't accept money. + There is a pride in me that rejects the whole thing; but it may be the + same fool pride that has cut away my friends. I ought to fall on your neck + with joy: and here I am trying to look round corners! You are my father's + friend, my mother's, mine. Why shouldn't I accept the proposition? You are + alone, too. You have a perfect right to do as you please with your money, + and I have an equally perfect right to accept your gifts. We are all + afraid of the world, aren't we? That's probably at the bottom of my + doddering. Cutty, what is love?” she broke off, whimsically. + </p> + <p> + “Looking into mirrors and hunting for specks,” he answered, readily. + </p> + <p> + “I mean seriously.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I. Before I went round to the stage entrance to take your mother + out to supper I used to preen an hour before the mirror. My collar, my + cravat, my hair, the nap on my stovepipe, my gloves—terrible things! + And what happened? Your dad, dressed in his office clothes, came along + like a cyclone, walked all over my toes, and swooped up your mother right + from under my nose. Now just look the proposition over from all angles. + Think of yourself; let the old world go hang. They'll call it alimony. In + a year or so you'll be free; and some chap like Tommy Conover will come + along, and bang! You'll know all about love. Here's old Brooklyn Bridge. + I'll see you to the elevator. All nonsense that you should have the least + hesitance.” + </p> + <p> + Fifteen minutes later he was striding along Park Row. By the swing of his + stride any onlooker would have believed that Cutty was in a hurry to + arrive somewhere. Instead, one was only walking. Suddenly he stopped in + the middle of the sidewalk with the two currents of pedestrians flowing on + each side of him, as a man might stop who saw some wonderful cloud effect. + But there was nothing ecstatical in his expression; on the contrary, there + was a species of bewildered terror. The psychology of all his recent + actions had in a flash become vividly clear. + </p> + <p> + An unbelievable catastrophe had overtaken him. He loved Kitty, loved her + with an intense, shielding passion, quite unlike that which he had given + her mother. Such a thing could happen! He offered not the least combat; + the revelation was too smashing to admit of any doubt. It was not a + recrudescence of his love for Molly, stirred into action by the + association with Molly's daughter. He wanted Kitty for himself, wanted her + with every fibre in his body, fiercely. And never could he tell her—now. + </p> + <p> + The tragic irony of it all numbed him. Fate hadn't played the game fairly. + He was fifty-two, on the far side of the plateau, near sunset. It wasn't a + square deal. + </p> + <p> + Still he stood there on the sidewalk, like a rock in the middle of a + turbulent stream, rejecting selfish thoughts. Marry Kitty, and tell her + the truth afterward. He knew the blood of her—loyalest of the loyal. + He could if he chose play that sort of game—cheat her. He could not + withdraw his proposition. If she accepted it he would have to carry it + through. Cheat her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + Kitty hung up her hat and coat. She did not pat her hair or tuck in the + loose ends before the mirror—a custom as invariable as sunrise. The + coat tree stood at the right of the single window, and out of this window + Kitty stared solemnly, at everything and at nothing. + </p> + <p> + Burlingame eyed her seriously. Cutty had given him a glimmer of the tale—enough + to make known to him that this pretty, sensible girl, though no fault of + her own, was in the shadow of some actual if unknown danger. And Cutty + wanted her out of town for a few days. Burlingame had intended sending + Kitty out of town on an assignment during Easter week. An exchange of + telegrams that morning had closed the gap in time. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you might say 'Good morning.'” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Burly!” In newspaper offices you belong at once or you + never belong; and to belong is to have your name sheared to as few + syllables as possible. You are formal only to the city editor, the + managing editor, and the auditor. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I've been set in the middle of a fairy story,” said Kitty, “and I'm + wondering if it's worth the trouble to try to find a way out. A Knight of + the Round Table, a prince of chivalry. What would you say if you saw one + in spats and a black derby?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” answered Burlingame, “I suppose I'd consider July first as the best + thing that could happen to me.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed; and that was what he wanted. + </p> + <p> + What had that old rogue been doing now—offering Kitty his + eighteen-story office building? + </p> + <p> + “It's odd, isn't it, that I shouldn't possess a little histrionic ability. + You'd think it would be in my blood to act.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, Kitty; only not to mimic. You're an actress, but the Big Dramatist + writes your business for you. Now, I've got some fairly good news for you. + An assignment.” + </p> + <p> + “Work! What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to send you on a visit to the most charming movie queen in the + business. She is going to return to Broadway this autumn, and she has a + trunkful of plays to read. I have found your judgment ace-high. Mornings + you will read with her; afternoons you will visit. She remembers your + mother, who was the best comedienne of her day. So she will be quite as + interested in you as you are in her. I want you to note her ways, how she + amuses herself, eats, exercises. I want you to note the contents of her + beautiful home; if she likes dogs or cats or horses. You will take a + camera and get half a dozen good pictures, and a page yarn for Easter + Sunday. Stay as long as she wants you to.” + </p> + <p> + “But who?” + </p> + <p> + Burlingame jerked his thumb toward a photograph on the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! This will be the most scrumptious event in my life. I'm wild about + her! But I haven't any clothes!” + </p> + <p> + Burlingame waved his hands. “I knew I'd hear that yodel. Eve didn't have + anything to speak of, but she travelled a lot. Truth is, Kitty, you'd + better dress in monotones. She might wake up to the fact that you're a + mighty pretty young woman and suddenly become temperamental. She has a + husband round the lot somewhere. Make him think his wife is a lucky woman. + Here's all the dope—introduction, expenses, and tickets. Train + leaves at two-fifty. Run along home and pack. Remember, I want a page + yarn. No flapdoodle or mush; straight stuff. She doesn't need any + advertising. If you go at it right you two will react upon each other as a + tonic.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty realized that this little junket was the very thing she needed—open + spaces, long walks in which to think out her problem. She hurried home and + spent the morning packing. When this heartrending business was over she + summoned Tony Bernini. + </p> + <p> + “I am going out of town, Mr. Bernini. I may be gone a week.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Miss Conover.” Bernini hid a smile. He knew all about this + trip, having been advised by Cutty over the wire. + </p> + <p> + “Am I being followed any more?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that we know of. Still, you never can tell. What's your destination?” + Kitty told him. “Better not go by train. I can get a fast roadster and run + you out in a couple of hours. Right after lunch you go to the boss's + garage and wait for me. I'll take care of your grips and camera. I'll + follow on your heels.” + </p> + <p> + “Anybody would consider that Karlov was after me instead of Hawksley.” + </p> + <p> + Bernini smiled. “Miss Conover, the moment Karlov puts his hands on you the + whole game goes blooey. That's the plain fact. There is death in this + game. These madmen expect to blow up the United States on May first. We + are easing them along because we want the top men in our net. But if + Karlov takes it into his head to get you, and succeeds, he'll have a + stranglehold on the whole local service; because we'd have to make great + concessions to free you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why wasn't I told this at the start?” + </p> + <p> + “You were told, indirectly. We did not care to frighten you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not frightened,” said Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Nope. But we wish to the Lord you were, Miss Conover. When you want to + come home, wire me and I'll motor out for you.” + </p> + <p> + Another fragment. Karlov's agent sought his chief and found him in the + cellar of the old house, sinisterly engaged. The wall bench was littered + with paraphernalia well known to certain chemists. Had the New York bomb + squad known of the existence of this den, the short hair on their necks + would have risen. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” greeted Karlov, moodily. + </p> + <p> + “I have found the man in the dress suit.” + </p> + <p> + “He and the Conover girl left that office building together this morning, + and I followed them to Park Row. This man uses the loft of the building + for his home. No elevator goes up unless you have credentials. Our man is + hiding there, Boris.” + </p> + <p> + Karlov dry-washed his hands. “We'll send him one of the samples if we fail + in regard to the girl. You say she arrives daily at the newspaper office + about nine and leaves between five and six?” + </p> + <p> + “Every day but Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news. Two bolts; one or the other will go home.” + </p> + <p> + About the same time in Cutty's apartment rather an amusing comedy took + place. Professor Ryan, late physical instructor at one of the aviation + camps, stood Hawksley in front of him and ran his hard hands over the + young man's body. Miss Frances stood at one side, her arms folded, her + expression skeptical. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' the matter with you, Bo, but the crack on the conk.” + </p> + <p> + “Right-o!” agreed Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + “Lemme see your hands. Humph. Soft. Now stand on that threshold. That's + it. Walk t' the' end o' the hall an' back. Step lively.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” began Miss Frances in protest. This was cruelty. + </p> + <p> + “I'm the doctor, miss,” interrupted Ryan, crisply. “If he falls down he + goes t' bed, an' you stay. If he makes it, he follows my instructions.” + </p> + <p> + When Hawksley returned to the starting line the walls rocked, there were + two or three blinding stabs of pain; but he faced this unusual Irishman + with never a hint of the torture. A wild longing to be gone from this + kindly prison—to get away from the thought of the girl. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Ryan. “Now toddle back t' bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep. Goin' t' give you a rub that'll start all your machinery workin'.” + </p> + <p> + Docilely Hawksley obeyed. He wasn't going to let them know, but that bed + was going to be tolerably welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Miss Frances. “I don't see how he did it.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said the ex-pugilist. “I told him to. Either he was a false alarm, + or he'd attempt the job even if he fell down. The hull thing is this: Make + a guy wanta get well an' he'll get well. If he's got any pride, dig it up. + Go after 'em. He hasn't lost any blood. No serious body wound. A crack on + the conk. It mighta killed him. It didn't. He didn't wabble an' fall down. + So my dope is right. Drop in in a few days an' I'll show yuh.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Frances held out her hand. “You've handled men,” she said, with + reluctant admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, boy!—millions of 'em, an' each guy different. Believe me! Make + 'em wanta.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty attended his conferences. He learned immediately that he was booked + to sail the first week in May. His itinerary began at Piraeus, in Greece, + and might end in Vladivostok. But they detained him in Washington overtime + because he was a fount of information the departments found it necessary + to draw upon constantly. The political and commercial aspects of the + polyglot peoples, what they wanted, what they expected, what they needed; + racial enmities. The bugaboo of the undesirable alien was no longer + bothering official heads in Washington. Stringent immigration laws were in + the making. What they wanted to know was an American's point of view, + based upon long and intimate associations. + </p> + <p> + Washington reminded him of nothing so much as a big sheep dog. The + hazardous day was over; the wolves had been driven off and the sheep into + the fold; and now the valiant guardian was turning round and round and + round preparatory to lying down to sleep. For Washington would go to sleep + again, naturally. + </p> + <p> + Often it occurred to him what a remarkable piece of machinery the human + brain was. He could dig up all this dry information with the precise + accuracy of an economist, all the while his actual thoughts upon Kitty. + His nights were nightmares. And all this unhappiness because he had been + touched with the lust for loot. Fundamentally, this catastrophe could be + laid to the drums of jeopardy. + </p> + <p> + The alluring possibility of finding those damnable green stones—the + unsuspected kink in his moral rectitude—had tumbled him into this + pit. Had not Kitty pronounced the name Stefani Gregor—in his mind + always linked with the emeralds—he would have summoned an ambulance + and had Hawksley carried off, despite Kitty's protests; and perhaps he + would have seen her but two or three times before sailing, seen her in + conventional and unemotional parts. At any rate, there would have been + none of this peculiar intimacy—Kitty coming to him in tears, opening + her young heart to him and discovering all its loneliness. If she loved + some chap it would not be so hard, the temptation would not be so keen—to + cheat her. Marry her, and then tell her. This dogged his thoughts like a + murderer's deed, terrible in the watches of the night. Marry her, and then + tell her. Cheat her. Break her heart and break his own. + </p> + <p> + Fifty-two. Never before had he thought old. His splendid health and + vigorous mentality were the results of thinking young. But now he heard + the avalanche stirring, the whispering slither of the first pebbles. He + would grow old swiftly, thunderously. Kitty's youth would shore up the + debacle, suspend it indefinitely. Marry her, cheat her, and stay young. + Green stones, accursed. + </p> + <p> + Kitty's days were pleasant enough, but her nights were sieges. One evening + someone put Elman's rendition of Schubert's “Ave Maria” on the phonograph. + Long after it was over she sat motionless in her chair. Echoes. The + Tschaikowsky waltz. She got up suddenly, excused herself, and went to her + room. + </p> + <p> + Six days, and her problem was still unsolved. Something in her—she + could not define it, she could not reach it, it defied analysis—something, + then, revolted at the idea of marrying Cutty, divorcing him, and living on + his money. There was a touch of horror in the suggestion. It was tearing + her to pieces, this hidden repellence. And yet this occult objection was + so utterly absurd. If he died and left her a legacy she would accept it + gratefully enough. Cutty's plan was only a method of circumventing this + indefinite wait. + </p> + <p> + Comforts, the good things of life, amusements—simply by nodding her + head. Why not? It wasn't as if Cutty was asking her to be his wife; he + wasn't. Just wanted to dodge convention, and give her freedom and + happiness. He was only giving her a mite out of his income. Because he had + loved her mother; because, but for an accident of chance, she, Kitty, + might have been his daughter. Why, then, this persistent and unaccountable + revulsion? Why should she hesitate? The ancient female fear of the trap? + That could not be it. For a more honourable, a more lovable man did not + walk the earth. Brave, strong, handsome, whimsical—why, Cutty was a + catch! + </p> + <p> + Comfy. Never any of that inherent doubt of man when she was with him. + Absolute trust. An evil thought had entered her head; fate had made it + honourably possible. And still this mysterious repellence. + </p> + <p> + Romance? She was not surrendering her right to that. What was a year out + of her life if afterward she would be in comfortable circumstances, free + to love where she willed? She wasn't cheating herself or Cutty: she was + cheating convention, a flimsy thing at best. + </p> + <p> + Windows. We carry our troubles to our windows; through windows we see the + stars. We cannot visualize God, but we can see His stars pinned to the + immeasurable spaces. So Kitty sought her window and added her question to + the countless millions forlornly wandering about up there, and finding no + answer. + </p> + <p> + But she would return to New York on the morrow. She would not summon + Bernini as she had promised. She would go back by train, alone, + unhampered. + </p> + <p> + And in his cellar Boris Karlov spun his web for her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + Hawksley heard the lift door close, and he knew that at last he was alone. + He flung out his arms, ecstatically. Free! He would see no more of that + nagging beggar Ryan until tomorrow. Free to put into execution the idea + that had been bubbling all day long in his head, like a fine champagne, + firing his blood with reckless whimsicality. + </p> + <p> + Quietly he stole down the corridor. Through a crack in the kitchen door he + saw Kuroki's back, the attitude of which was satisfying. It signified that + the Jap was pegging away at his endless studies and that only the banging + of the gong would rouse him. The way was as broad and clear as a street at + dawn. Not that Kuroki mattered; only so long as he did not know, so much + the better. + </p> + <p> + With careful step Hawksley manoeuvred his retreat so that it brought him + to Cutty's bedroom door. The door was unlocked. He entered the room. What + a lark! They would hide his own clothes; so much the worse for the old + beggar's wardrobe. Street clothes. Presently he found a dark suit, + commendable not so much for its style as for the fact that it was the + nearest fit he could find. He had to roll up the trouser hems. + </p> + <p> + Hats. Chuckling like a boy rummaging a jam closet, he rifled the shelves + and pulled down a black derby of an unknown vintage. Large; but a runner + of folded paper reduced the size. As he pressed the relic firmly down on + his head he winced. A stab over his eyes. He waited doubtfully; but there + was no recurrence. Fit as a fiddle. Of course he could not stoop without a + flash of vertigo; but on his feet he was top-hole. He was gaining every + day. + </p> + <p> + Luck. He might have come out of it with the blank mind of a newborn babe; + and here he was, keen to resume his adventures. Luck. They had not stopped + to see if he was actually dead. Some passer-by in the hall had probably + alarmed them. That handkerchief had carried him round the brink. Perhaps + Fate intended letting him get through—written on his pass an + extension of his leave of absence. Or she had some new torture in reserve. + </p> + <p> + Now for a stout walking stick. He selected a blackthorn, twirled it, + saluted, and posed before the mirror. Not so bally rotten. He would pass. + Next, he remembered that there were some flowers in the dining room—window + boxes with scarlet geraniums. He broke off a sprig and drew it through his + buttonhole. + </p> + <p> + Outside there was a cold, pale April sky, presaging wind and rain. + Unimportant. He was going down into the streets for an hour or so. The + colour and action of a crowded street; the lure was irresistible. Who + would dare touch him in the crowd? These rooms had suddenly become + intolerable. + </p> + <p> + He leaned against the side of the window. Roofs, thousands of them, flat, + domed, pinnacled; and somewhere under one of these roofs Stefani Gregor + was eating his heart out. It did not matter that this queer old eagle whom + everybody called Cutty had promised to bring Stefani home. It might be too + late. Stefani was old, highly strung. Who knew what infernal lies Karlov + had told him? Stefani could stand up under physical torture; but to tear + at his soul, to twist and rend his spirit! + </p> + <p> + The bubble in the champagne died down—as it always will if one + permits it to stand. He felt the old mood seep through the dikes of his + gayety. Alone. A familiar face—he would have dropped on his knees + and thanked God for the sight of a familiar face. These people, kindly as + they were—what were they but strangers? Yesterday he had not known + them; to-morrow he would leave them behind forever. All at once the + mystery of this bubbling idea was bared: he was going to risk his life in + the streets in the vague hope of seeing some face he had known in the days + before the world had gone drunk on blood. One familiar face. + </p> + <p> + Of course he would never forget—at any rate, not the girl whose + courage had made possible this hour. Those chaps, scared off temporarily, + might have returned. What had become of her? He was always seeing her + lovely face in the shadows, now tender, now resolute, now mocking. + Doubtless he thought of her constantly because his freedom of action was + limited. He hadn't diversion enough. Books and fiddling, these carried him + but halfway through the boredom. Where was she? Daily he had called her by + telephone; no answer. The Jap shook his head; the slangy boy in the lift + shook his. + </p> + <p> + She was a thoroughbred, even if she had been born of middle-class + parentage. He laughed bitterly. Middle class. A homeless, countryless + derelict, and he had the impudence to revert to comparisons that no longer + existed in this topsy-turvy old world. He was an upstart. The final + curtain had dropped between him and his world, and he was still thinking + in the ancient make-up. Middle class! He was no better than a troglodyte, + set down in a new wilderness. + </p> + <p> + He heard the curtain rings slither on the pole. Believing the intruder to + be Kuroki he turned belligerently. And there she stood—the girl + herself! The poise of her reminded him of the Winged Victory in the + Louvre. Where there had been a cup of champagne in his veins circumstance + now poured a magnum. + </p> + <p> + “You!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened? Where are you going in those clothes?” demanded Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “I am running away—for an hour or so.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must not! The risks—after all the trouble we've had to help + you!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be perfectly safe, for you are going with me. Aren't you my + guardian angel? Well, rather! The two of us—people, lights, shop + windows! Perfectly splendiferous! Honestly, now, where's the harm?” He + approached her rapidly as he spoke, and before the spell of him could be + shaken off Kitty found her hands imprisoned in his. “Please! I've been so + damnably bored. The two of us in the streets, among the crowds! No one + will dare touch us. Can't you see? And then—I say, this is ripping!—we'll + have dinner together here. I will play for you on the old Amati. Please!” + </p> + <p> + The fire of him communicated to the combustibles in Kitty's soul. A wild, + reckless irony besieged her. This adventure would be exactly what she + needed; it would sweep clear the fog separating one side of her brain from + the other. For it was plain enough that part of her brain refused to + cooperate with the other. A break in the trend of thought: she might + succeed in getting hold of the puzzle if she could drop it absolutely for + a little while and then pick it up again. + </p> + <p> + She had not gone home. She had not notified Bernini. She had checked her + luggage in the station parcel room and come directly here. For what? To + let the sense of luxury overcome the hidden repugnance of the idea of + marrying Cutty, divorcing him, and living on his money. To put herself in + the way of visible temptation. What fretted her so, what was wearing her + down to the point of fatigue, was the patent imbecility of her reluctance. + There would have been some sense of it if Cutty had proposed a real + marriage. All she had to do was mumble a few words, sign her name to a + document, live out West for a few months, and be in comfortable + circumstances all the rest of her life. And she doddered! + </p> + <p> + She would run the streets with Johnny Two-Hawks, return, and dine with + him. Who cared? Proper or improper, whose business was it but Kitty + Conover's? Danger? That was the peculiar attraction. She wanted to rush + into danger, some tense excitement the strain of which would lift her out + of her mood. A recurrent touch of the wild impulsiveness of her childhood. + Hadn't she sometimes flown out into thunderstorms, after merited + punishment, to punish the mother whom thunder terrorized? And now she was + going to rush into unknown danger to punish Fate—like a silly child! + Nevertheless, she would go into the streets with Johnny Two-Hawks. + </p> + <p> + “But are you strong enough to venture on the streets?” + </p> + <p> + “Rot! Dash it all, I'm no mollycoddle! All nonsense to keep me pinned in + like this. Will you go with me—be my guide?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” She shot out the word and crossed the Rubicon before reason could + begin to lecture. Besides, wasn't reason treating her shabbily in + withholding the key to the riddle? “Johnny Two-Hawks, I will go as far as + Harlem if you want me to.” + </p> + <p> + “Johnny Two-Hawks!” He laughed joyously, then kissed her hands. But he had + to pay for this bending—a stab that filled his eyes with flying + sparks. He must remember, once out of doors, not to stoop quickly. “I say, + you're the jolliest girl I ever met! Just the two of us, what?” + </p> + <p> + “The way you speak English is wonderful!” + </p> + <p> + “Simple enough to explain. Had an English nurse from the beginning. Spoke + English and Italian before I spoke Russian.” + </p> + <p> + He seized the wooden mallet and beat the Burmese gong—a flat piece + of brass cut in the shape of a bell. The clear, whirring vibrations filled + the room. Long before these spent themselves Kuroki appeared on the + threshold. He bobbed. + </p> + <p> + “Kuroki, Miss Conover is dining here with me to-night. Seven o'clock + sharp. The best you have in the larder.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sair. You are going out, sair?” + </p> + <p> + “For a bit of fresh air.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am going with him, Kuroki,” said Kitty. Kuroki bobbed again. + “Dinner at seven, sair.” Another bob, and he returned to the kitchen, + smiling. The girl was free to come and go, of course, but the ancient + enemy of Nippon would not pass the elevator door. Let him find that out + for himself. + </p> + <p> + When the elevator arrived the boy did not open the door. He noted the + derby on Hawksley's head. + </p> + <p> + “I can take you down, Miss Conover, but I cannot take Mr. Hawksley. When + the boss gives me an order I obey it—if I possibly can. On the day + the boss tells me you can go strolling, I'll give you the key to the city. + Until then, nix! No use arguing, Mr. Hawksley.” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't argue,” replied Hawksley, meekly. “I am really a prisoner, + then?” + </p> + <p> + “For your own good, sir. Do you wish to go down, Miss Conover?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The boy swung the lever, and the car dropped from sight. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” said Kitty. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley smiled and laid a finger on his lips. “I wanted to know,” he + whispered. “There's another way down from this Matterhorn. Come with me. + Off the living room is a storeroom. I found the key in the lock the other + day and investigated. I still have the key. Now, then, there's a door that + gives to the main loft. At the other end is the stairhead. There is a door + at the foot of the first flight down. We can jolly well leave this way, + but we shall have to return by the lift. That bally young ruffian can't + refuse to carry us up, y' know!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed. “This is going to be fun!” + </p> + <p> + “Rather!” + </p> + <p> + They groped their way through the dim loft—for it was growing dark + outside—and made the stairhead. The door to the seventeenth floor + opened, and they stepped forth into the lighted hallway. + </p> + <p> + “Now what?” asked Kitty, bubbling. + </p> + <p> + “The floor below, and one of the other lifts, what?” Twenty minutes later + the two of them, arm in arm, turned into Broadway. + </p> + <p> + “This, sir,” began Kitty with a gesture, “is Broadway—America's + backyard in the daytime and Ali Baba's cave at night. The way of the + gilded youth; the funnel for papa's money; the chorus lady; the starting + point of the high cost of living. We New Yorkers despise it because we + can't afford it.” + </p> + <p> + “The lights!” gasped Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + “Wreckers' lights. Behold! Yonder is a highly nutritious whisky blinking + its bloomin' farewell. Do you chew gum? Even if you don't, in a few + minutes I'll give you a cud for thought. Chewing gum was invented by a man + with a talkative wife. He missed the physiological point, however, that a + body can chew and talk at the same time. Come on!” + </p> + <p> + They went on uptown, Hawksley highly amused, exhilarated, but frequently + puzzled. The pungent irony of her observations conveyed to him that under + this gayety was a current of extreme bitterness. “I say, are all American + girls like you?” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens, no! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I never met one like you before. Rather stilted—on their + good behaviour, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “And I interest you because I'm not on my good behaviour?” Kitty whipped + back. + </p> + <p> + “Because you are as God made you—without camouflage.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor innocent young man! I'm nothing but camouflage to-night. Why are + you risking your life in the street? Why am I sharing that risk? Because + we both feel bound and are blindly trying to break through. What do you + know about me? Nothing. What do I know about you? Nothing. But what do we + care? Come on, come on!” + </p> + <p> + Tumpitum—tump! tumpitum—tump! drummed the Elevated. Kitty + laughed. The tocsin! Always something happened when she heard it. + </p> + <p> + “Pearls!” she cried, dragging him toward a jeweller's window. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he said, holding back. “I hate—jewels! How I hate them!” He + broke away from her and hurried on. + </p> + <p> + She had to run after him. Had she hesitated they might have become + separated. Hated jewels? No, no! There should be no questions, verbal or + mental, this night. She presently forced him to slow down. “Not so fast! + We must never become separated,” she warned. “Our safety—such as it + is—lies in being together.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm an ass. Perhaps my head is ratty without my realizing it. I fancy I'm + like a dog that's been kicked; I'm trying to run away from the pain. + What's this tomb?” + </p> + <p> + “The Metropolitan Opera House.” + </p> + <p> + As they were passing a thin, wailing sound came to the ears of both. + Seated with his back to the wall was a blind fiddler with a tin cup + strapped to a knee. He was out of bounds; he had no right on Broadway; but + he possessed a singular advantage over the law. He could not be forced to + move on without his guide—if he were honestly blind. Hundreds of + people were passing; but the fiddler's “Last Rose of Summer” wasn't worth + a cent. His cup was empty. + </p> + <p> + “The poor thing!” said Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” Hawksley approached the fiddler, exchanged a few words with him, + and the blind man surrendered his fiddle. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hat!” cried Kitty, delighted. + </p> + <p> + Carefully Hawksley pried loose his derby and handed it to Kitty. No stab + of pain; something to find that out. He turned the instrument, tucked it + under his chin and began “Traumerei.” Kitty, smiling, extended the hat. + Just the sort of interlude to make the adventure memorable. She knew this + thoroughfare. Shortly there would be a crowd, and the fiddler's cup would + overflow—that is, if the police did not interfere too soon. + </p> + <p> + As for the owner of the wretched fiddle, he raised his head, his mouth + opened. Up there, somewhere, a door to heaven had opened. + </p> + <p> + True to her expectations a crowd slowly gathered. The beauty of the girl + and the dark, handsome face of the musician, his picturesque bare head, + were sufficient for these cynical passers-by. They understood. Operatic + celebrities, having a little fun on their own. So quarters and dimes and + nickels began to patter into Cutty's ancient derby hat. Broadway will + always contribute generously toward a novelty of this order. Famous names + were tossed about in undertones. + </p> + <p> + Entered then the enemy of the proletariat. Kitty, being a New Yorker born, + had had her weather eye roving. The brass-buttoned minion of the law was + always around when a bit of innocent fun was going on. As the policeman + reached the inner rim of the audience the last notes of Handel's “Largo” + were fading on the ear. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” demanded the policeman. + </p> + <p> + “It's all over, sir,” answered Kitty, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Can't have this on Broadway, miss. Obstruction.” He could not speak + gruffly in the face of such beauty—especially with a Broadway crowd + at his back. + </p> + <p> + “It's all over. Just let me put this money in the blind man's cup.” Kitty + poured her coins into the receptacle. At the same time Hawksley laid the + fiddle in the blind man's lap. Then he turned to Kitty and boomed a long + Russian phrase at her. Her quick wit caught the intent. “You see, he + doesn't understand that this cannot be done in New York. I couldn't + explain.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, miss; but don't do it again.” The policeman grinned. + </p> + <p> + “And please don't be harsh with the blind man. Just tell him he mustn't + play on Broadway again. Thank you!” + </p> + <p> + She linked her arm in Hawksley's, and they went on; and the crowd + dissolved; only the policeman and the blind man remained, the one + contemplating his duty and the other his vision of heaven. + </p> + <p> + “What a lark!” exclaimed Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + “Were you asking me for your hat?” + </p> + <p> + “I was telling the bobby to go to the devil!” + </p> + <p> + They laughed like children. + </p> + <p> + “March hares!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No. April fools! Good heavens, the time! Twenty minutes to seven. Our + dinner!” + </p> + <p> + “We'll take a taxi.... Dash it!” + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bally copper in my pockets!” + </p> + <p> + “And I left my handbag on the sideboard! We'll have to walk. If we hurry + we can just about make it.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime, there lay in wait for them—this pair of April fools—a + taxicab. It stood snugly against the curb opposite the entrance to Cutty's + apartment. The door was slightly ajar. + </p> + <p> + The driver watched the south corner; the three men inside never took their + gaze off the north corner. + </p> + <p> + “But, I say, hasn't this been a jolly lark?” + </p> + <p> + “If we had known we could have borrowed a dollar from the blind man; he'd + never have missed it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + Champagne in the glass is a beautiful thing to see. So is water, the + morning after. That is the fault with frolic; there is always an + inescapable rebound. The most violent love drops into humdrum tolerance. A + pessimist is only a poor devil who has anticipated the inevitable; he has + his headache at the start. Mental champagnes have their aftermaths even as + the juice of the grape. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley and Kitty, hurrying back, began to taste lees. They began to see + things, too—menace in every loiterer, threat in every alley. They + had had a glorious lark; somewhere beyond would be the piper with an + appalling bill. They exaggerated the dangers, multiplied them; perhaps + wisely. There would be no let-down in their vigilance until they reached + haven. But this state of mind they covered with smiling masks, banter, + bursts of laughter, and flashes of wit. + </p> + <p> + They were both genuinely frightened, but with unselfish fear. Kitty's fear + was not for herself but for Johnny Two-Hawks. If anything happened the + blame would rightly be hers. With that head he wasn't strictly accountable + for what he did; she was. A firm negative on her part and he would never + have left the apartment. And his fear was wholly for this astonishing + girl. He had recklessly thrust her into grave danger. Who knew, better + than he, the implacable hate of the men who sought to kill him? + </p> + <p> + Moreover, his strength was leaving him. There was an alarming weakness in + his legs, purely physical. He had overdone, and if need rose he would not + be able to protect her. Damnable fool! But she had known. That was the odd + phase of it. She hadn't come blindly. What mood had urged her to share the + danger along with the lark? Somehow, she was always just beyond his reach, + this girl. He would never forget that fan popping out of the pistol, the + egg burning in the pan. + </p> + <p> + The apartment was only three blocks away when Kitty decided to drop her + mask. “I'd give a good deal to see a policeman. They are never around when + you really want them. Johnny Two-Hawks, I'm a little fool! You wouldn't + have left the apartment but for me. Will you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is I who should ask forgiveness. I say, how much farther is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Only about two blocks; but they may be long ones. Let's step into this + doorway for a moment. I see a taxicab. It looks to be standing opposite + the building. Don't like it. Suppose we watch it for a few minutes?” + </p> + <p> + Hawksley was grateful for the respite; and together they stared at the + unwinking red eye of the tail light. But no man approached the cab or left + it. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I've hit upon a plan,” said Kitty. “Certainly we have not been + followed. In that event they would have had a dozen chances. If someone + saw us leave together, naturally they will expect us to return together. + We'll walk to the corner of our block, then turn east; but I shall remain + just out of sight while you will go round the block. Fifteen minutes + should carry you to the south corner. I'll be on watch for you. The moment + you turn I'll walk toward you. It will give us a bit of a handicap in case + that taxi is a menace. If any one appears, run for it. Where's the cane + you had?” + </p> + <p> + “What a jolly ass I am! I remember now. I left the stick against the wall + of the opera house. Blockhead! With a stick, now!... I'm hopeless!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. Let's start. That taxi may be perfectly honest. It's our + guilty consciences that are peopling the shadows with goblins. What really + bothers us is that we have broken our word to the kindliest man in all + this world.” + </p> + <p> + Hawksley wondered if he could walk round the block without falling down. + He saw that he was facing a physical collapse, hastened by the knowledge + that the safety of the girl depended largely upon himself. What he had + accepted at the beginning as strength had been nothing more than + exhilaration and nerve energy. There was now nothing but the latter, and + only feeble straws at that. Oh, he would manage somehow; he jolly well had + to; and there was a bare chance of falling in with a bobby. But run? + Honestly, now, how the devil was a chap to run on a pair of spools? + </p> + <p> + Arriving at the appointed spot they separated. He waved his hand airily + and marched off. If he fell it would be out of sight, where the girl could + not see him. Clever chap—what? Damned rotter! For himself he did not + care. He was weary of this game of hide and seek. But to have lured the + girl into it! When he turned the first corner of his journey he paused and + leaned against the wall, his eyes shut. When he opened them the sidewalk + and the street lamps were normal again. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he disappeared a new plan came to Kitty. She put it into + execution at once, on the basis that yonder taxicab was an enemy machine. + She left her retreat and walked boldly down the street, her eyes alert for + the least suspicious sign. If she could make the entrance before they + suspected the trick, she could obtain help before Johnny Two-Hawks made + the south turn. She reached her objective, pushed through the revolving + doors, and turned. Dimly she could see the taxi driver; but he appeared to + be dozing on the seat. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, one of the three men in the taxi recognized Kitty, + but too late to intercept her. Her manoeuvre had confused him temporarily. + And while he and his companions were debating, Kitty had time to summon + Cutty's man from Elevator Four. + </p> + <p> + “Step into the car!” he roughly ordered, after she had given him a gist of + her suspicions. He turned off the lights, stepped out, and shut the gates + with a furious bang. “And stick to the corner! I'll attend to the other fool.” + </p> + <p> + He rushed into the street, his automatic ready, eyed the taxicab + speculatively, wheeled suddenly, and ran south at a dog-trot. He rounded + the south corner, but he did not see Hawksley anywhere. The dog-trot + became a dead run. As he wheeled round the corner of the parallel street + he almost bumped into Hawksley, who had a policeman in tow. + </p> + <p> + “Officer,” said the man with the boy's face, “this is Federal business. + Aliens. Come along. There may be trouble. If there should be any shooting + don't bother with the atmosphere. Pick out a real target.” + </p> + <p> + “Anarchists?” + </p> + <p> + “About the size of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Conover?” asked Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + “Safe. No thanks to you, though. I'd like to knock your block off, if you + want to know!” + </p> + <p> + “Do it! Damned little use to me,” declared Hawksley, sagging. + </p> + <p> + “Here, what's the matter with you?” cried the policeman, throwing his arm + round Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + “They nearly killed him a few days gone. A crack on the bean; but he + wasn't satisfied. Help him along. I'll be hiking back.” + </p> + <p> + But the taxicab was gone. + </p> + <p> + Before Cutty's lieutenant opened the gate to the apartment he spoke to + Hawksley. “The boss is doing everything he can to put you through, sir. + Miss Conover's wit saved you. For if you hadn't separated they'd have + nailed you. I've been running round like a chicken with its head cut off. + I forgot that door on the seventeenth floor. I tell you honestly, you've + been playing with death. It wasn't fair to Miss Conover.” + </p> + <p> + “It was my fault,” volunteered Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Mine,” protested Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they know where you roost now, for a fact. You've spilled the + beans. I'm sorry I lost my temper. The devil fly away with you both!” The + boy laughed. “You're game, anyhow. But darn it all, if anything had + happened to you the boss would never have forgiven me. He's the whitest + old scout God ever put the breath of life into. He's always doing + something for somebody. He'd give you the block if you had the gall to ask + for it. Play the game fifty-fifty with him and you'll land on both feet. + And you, Miss Conover, must not come here again.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you a little secret. It was the boss who sent you out of town. + He was afraid you'd do something like this. When you are ready to go home + you'll find Tony Bernini downstairs. Sore as a crab, too, I'll bet.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be glad to go home with him,” said Kitty, thoroughly chastened in + spirit. + </p> + <p> + “That's all for to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty and Hawksley stepped out into the corridor, the problem they had + sought to shake off reestablished in their thoughts, added too, if + anything. + </p> + <p> + “How do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + “Top-hole,” lied Hawksley. “My word, though, I wobbled a bit going round + that block. I almost kissed the bobby. I say, he thought I'd been tilting + a few. But it was a lark!” + </p> + <p> + “Dinner is served,” announced Kuroki at their elbows. His expression was + coldly bland. + </p> + <p> + “Dinner!” cried Hawksley, brightening. “What does the American soldier + say?” + </p> + <p> + “Eats!” answered Kitty. + </p> + <p> + All tension vanished in the double laughter that followed. They approached + dinner with something of the spirit that had induced Hawksley to fiddle + and Kitty to pass the hat in front of the Metropolitan Opera House. + Hawksley's recuperative powers promised well for his future. By the time + coffee was served his head had cleared and his legs had resumed their + normal functions of support. + </p> + <p> + “I was so infernally bored!” + </p> + <p> + “And now?” asked Kitty, recklessly. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy asking me that!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you realize that all this is dreadfully improper?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, now! Where's the harm? If ever there was a young woman capable + of taking care of herself—” + </p> + <p> + “That isn't it. It's just being here alone with you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are not alone with me!” + </p> + <p> + “Kuroki?” Kitty shrugged. + </p> + <p> + “No. At my side of the table is Stefani Gregor; at yours the man who has + befriended me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for that. I don't know of anything nicer you could say. But the + outside world would see neither of our friends. I did not come here to see + you.” + </p> + <p> + “No need of telling me that.” + </p> + <p> + “I had a problem—a very difficult one—to solve; and I believed + that I might solve it if I came to these rooms. I had quite forgotten + you.” + </p> + <p> + Instantly, upon receiving this blunt explanation, he determined that she + should never cease to remember him after this night. His vanity was not + touched; it was something far more elusive. It was perhaps a recurrence of + that inexplicable desire to hurt. Somehow he sensed the flexible steel + behind which lay the soul of this baffling girl. He would presently find a + chink in the armour with that old Amati. + </p> + <p> + Blows on the head have few surgical comparisons. That which kills one man + only temporarily stuns another. One man loses his identity; another + escapes with all his faculties and suffers but trifling inconvenience. In + Hawksley's case the blow had probably restricted some current of thought, + and that which would have flowed normally now shot out obliquely, + perversely. It might be that the natural perverseness of his blood, + unchecked by the noble influence of Stefani Gregor and liberated by the + blow, governed his thoughts in relation to Kitty. The subjugation of + women, the old cynical warfare of sex—the dominant business of his + rich and idle forbears, the business that had made Boris Karlov a deadly + and implacable enemy—became paramount in his disordered brain. + </p> + <p> + She had forgotten him! Very well. He would stir the soul of her, play with + it, lift it to the stars and dash it down—if she had a soul. + Beautiful, natural, alone. He became all Latin under the pressure of this + idea. + </p> + <p> + “I will play for you,” he said, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Please! And then I'll go home where I belong. I'll be in the living + room.” + </p> + <p> + When he returned he found her before a window, staring at the myriad + lights. + </p> + <p> + “Sit here,” he said, indicating the divan. “I shall stand and walk about + as I play.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty sat down, touching the pillows, reflectively. She thought of the + tears she had wept upon them. That sinister and cynical thought! Suddenly + she saw light. Her problem would have been none at all if Cutty had said + he loved her. There would have been something sublime in making him happy + in his twilight. He had loved and lost her mother. To pay him for that! He + was right. Those twenty-odd years—his seniority—had mellowed + him, filled him with deep and tender understanding. To be with him was + restful; the very thought of him now was resting. No matter how much she + might love a younger man he would frequently torture her by unconscious + egoism; and by the time he had mellowed, the mulled wine would be cold. If + only Cutty had said he loved her! + </p> + <p> + “What shall I play?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty raised her eyes in frank astonishment. There was a fiercely proud + expression on Hawksley's face. It was not the man, it was the artist who + was angry. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me! I was dreaming a little,” she apologized with quick + understanding. “I am not quite—myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither am I. I will play something to fit your dream. But wait! When I + play I am articulate. I can express myself—all emotions. I am what I + play—happy, sad, gay, full of the devil. I warn you. I can speak all + things. I can laugh at you, weep with you, despise you, love you! All in + the touch of these strings. I warn you there is magic in this Amati. Will + you risk it?” + </p> + <p> + Ordinarily—had this florid outburst come from another man—Kitty + would have laughed. It had the air of piqued vanity; but she knew that + this was not the interpretation. On the streets he had been the most + amusing and surprising comrade she had ever known, as merry and whimsical + as Cutty—young and handsome—the real man. He had been real + that night when he entered through her kitchen window, with the drums of + jeopardy about his neck. He had been real that night she had brought him + his wallet. + </p> + <p> + Electric antagonism—the room seemed charged with it. The man had + stepped aside for a moment and the great noble had taken his place. It was + not because she had been reared in rather a theatrical atmosphere that she + transcribed his attitude thus. She knew that he was noble. That she did + not know his rank was of no consequence. Cutty's narrative, which she had + pretended to believe, had set this man in the middle class. Never in this + world. There was only one middle class out of which such a personality + might, and often did, emerge—the American middle class. In Europe, + never. No peasant blood, no middle-class corpuscle, stirred in this man's + veins. The ancient boyar looked down at her. + </p> + <p> + “Play!” said Kitty. There was a smile on her lips, but there was fiery + challenge in her slate-blue eyes. The blood of Irish kings—and what + Irishman dares deny it?—surged into her throat. + </p> + <p> + We wear masks, we inherit generations of masks; and a trivial incident + reveals the primordial which lurks in each one of us. Savages—Kitty + with her stone hatchet and Hawksley swinging the curved blade of Hunk. + </p> + <p> + He began one of those tempestuous compositions, brilliant and bewildering, + that submerge the most appreciative lay mentality—because he was + angry, a double anger that he should be angry over he knew not what—and + broke off in the middle of the composition because Kitty sat upright, + stonily unimpressed. + </p> + <p> + Tschaikowsky's “Serenade Melancolique.” Kitty, after a few measures, laid + aside her stone hatchet, and her body relaxed. Music! She began to absorb + it as parched earth absorbs the tardy rain. Then came the waltz which had + haunted her. Her face grew tenderly beautiful; and Hawksley, a true + artist, saw that he had discovered the fifth string; and he played upon it + with all the artistry which was naturally his and which had been given + form by the master who had taught him. + </p> + <p> + For the physical exertions he relied upon nerve energy again. Nature is + generous when we are young. No matter how much we draw against the account + she always has a little more for us. He forgot that only an hour gone he + had been dizzy with pain, forgot everything but the glory of the sounds he + was evoking and their visible reaction upon this girl. The devil was not + only in his heart, but in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Never had Kitty heard such music. To be played to in this manner—directly, + with embracing tenderness, with undivided fire—would have melted the + soul of Gobseck the money lender; and Kitty was warm-blooded, Irish, + emotional. The fiddle called poignantly to the Irish in her. She wanted to + go roving with this man; with her hand on his shoulder to walk in the thin + air of high places. Through it all, however, she felt vaguely troubled; + the instinct of the trap. The sinister and cynical idea which had + clandestinely taken up quarters in her mind awoke and assailed her from a + new angle, that of youth. Something in her cried out: “Stop! Stop!” But + her lips were mute, her body enchained. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Hawksley laid aside the fiddle and advanced. He reached down and + drew her up. Kitty did not resist him; she was numb with enchantment. He + held her close for a second, then kissed her—her hair, eyes, mouth—released + her and stepped back, a bantering smile on his lips and cold terror in his + heart. The devil who had inspired this phase of the drama now deserted his + victim, as he generally does in the face of superior forces. + </p> + <p> + Kitty stood perfectly still for a full minute, stunned. It was that smile—frozen + on his lips—that brought her back to intimacy with cold realities. + Had he asked her pardon, had he shown the least repentance, she might have + forgiven, forgotten. But knowing mankind as she did she could give but one + interpretation to that smile—of which he was no longer conscious. + </p> + <p> + Without anger, in quiet, level tones she said: “I had foolishly thought + that we two might be friends. You have made it impossible. You have also + abused the kindly hospitality of the man who has protected you from your + enemies. A few days ago he did me the honour to ask me to marry him. I am + going to. I wish you no evil.” She turned and walked from the room. + </p> + <p> + Even then there was time. But he did not move. It was not until he heard + the elevator gate crash that he was physically released from the thraldom + of the inner revelation. Love—in the blinding flash of a + thunderbolt! He had kissed her not because he was the son of his father, + but because he loved her! And now he never could tell her. He must let her + go, believing that the man she had saved from death had repaid her with + insult. On top of all his misfortunes, his tragedies—love! There was + a God, yes, but his name was Irony. Love! He stepped toward the divan, + stumbled, and fell against it, his arms spread over the pillows; and in + this position he remained. + </p> + <p> + For a while his thoughts were broken, inconclusive; he was like a man in + the dark, groping for a door. Principally, his poor head was trying to + solve the riddle of his never-ending misfortunes. Why? What had he done + that these calamities should be piled upon his head? He had lived + decently; his youth had been normal; he had played fair with men and + women. Why make him pay for what his forbears had done? He wasn't fair + game. + </p> + <p> + He! A singular revelation cleared one corner. Kitty had spoken of a + problem; and he, by those devil-urged kisses, had solved it for her. She + had been doddering, and his own act had thrust her into the arms of that + old thoroughbred. That cynical suggestion of his the other morning had + been acted upon. God had long ago deserted him, and now the devil himself + had taken leave. Hawksley buried his face in the pillow once made wet with + Kitty's tears. + </p> + <p> + The great tragedy in life lies in being too late. Hawksley had learned + this once before; it was now being driven home again. Cutty was to find it + out on the morrow, for he missed his train that night. + </p> + <p> + The shuttles of the Weaver in this pattern of life were two green stones + called the drums of jeopardy, inanimate objects, but perfect tools in the + hands of Destiny. But for these stones Hawksley would not have tarried too + long on a certain red night; Cutty would not now be stumbling about the + labyrinths into which his looting instincts had thrust him; and Kitty + Conover would have jogged along in the humdrum rut, if not happy at least + philosophically content with her lot. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + Decision is always a mental relief, hesitance a curse. Kitty, having + shifted her burdens to the broad shoulders of Cutty, felt as she reached + the lobby as if she had left storm and stress behind and entered calm. She + would marry Cutty; she had published the fact, burned her bridges. + </p> + <p> + She had stepped into the car, her heart full of cold fury. Now she began + to find excuses for Hawksley's conduct. A sick brain; he was not really + accountable for his acts. Her own folly had opened the way. Of course she + would never see him again. Why should she? Their lives were as far apart + as the Volga and the Hudson. + </p> + <p> + Bernini met her in the lobby. “I've got a cab for you, Miss Conover,” he + said as if nothing at all had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Have you Cutty's address?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then take me at once to a telegraph office. I have a very important + message to send him.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Miss Conover.” + </p> + <p> + “Say: 'Decision made. It is yes.' And sign it just Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + Without being conscious of it her soul was still in the clouds, where it + had been driven by the music of the fiddle; thus, what she assumed to be a + normal sequence of a train of thought was only a sublime impulse. She + would marry Cutty. More, she would be his wife, his true wife. For his + tenderness, his generosity, his chivalry, she would pay him in kind. There + would be no nonsense; love would not enter into the bargain; but there + would be the fragrance of perfect understanding. That he was fifty-two and + she was twenty-four no longer mattered. No more loneliness, no more + genteel poverty; for such benefits she was ready to pay the score in full. + A man she was genuinely fond of, a man she could look up to, always depend + upon. + </p> + <p> + Was there such a thing as perfect love? She had her doubts. She reasoned + that love was what a body decided was love, the psychological moment when + the physical attraction became irresistible. Who could tell before the + fact which was the true and which the false? Lived there a woman, herself + excepted, who had not hesitated between two men—a man who had not + doddered between two women—for better or for worse? What did the + average woman know of the man, the average man know of the woman—until + afterward? To stake all upon a guess! + </p> + <p> + She knew Cutty. Under her own eyes he had passed through certain proving + fires. There would be no guessing the manner of man he was. He was + fifty-two; that is to say, the grand passion had come and gone. There + would be mutual affection and comradeship. + </p> + <p> + True, she had her dreams; but she could lay them away without any + particular regret. She had never been touched by the fire of passion. Let + it go. But she did know what perfect comradeship was, and she would grasp + it and never loose her hold. Something out of life. + </p> + <p> + “A narrow squeak, Miss Conover,” said Berumi, breaking the long silence. + </p> + <p> + “A miss is as good as a mile,” replied Kitty, not at all grateful for the + interruption. + </p> + <p> + “We've done everything we could to protect you. If you can't see now—why, + the jig is up. A chain is as strong as its weakest link. And in a game + like this a woman is always the weakest link.” + </p> + <p> + “You're quite a philosopher.” + </p> + <p> + “I have reason to be. I'm married.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I expected to laugh?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Conover, you're a wonder. You come through these affairs with a + smile, when you ought to have hysterics. I'll bet a doughnut that when you + see a mouse you go and get it a piece of cheese.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want the truth? Well, I'll tell it to you. You have all kept me on + the outer edge of this affair, and I've been trying to find out why. I + have the reportorial instinct, as they say. I inherited it from my father. + You put a strange weapon in my hands, you tell me it is deadly, but you + don't tell me which end is deadly. Do you know who this Russian is?” + </p> + <p> + “Honestly, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Cutty?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that, either.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of a pair of emeralds called the drums of jeopardy?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. But I do know if you continue these stunts you'll head the whole + game into the ditch.” + </p> + <p> + “You may set your mind at ease. I'm going to marry Cutty. I shall not go + to the apartment again until Hawksley, as he is called, is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well; that's good news! But let me put you wise to one fact, Miss + Conover: you have picked some man! I'm not much of a scholar, but knowing + him as I do I'm always wondering why they made Faith, Hope, and Charity in + female form. But this night's work was bad business. They know where the + Russian is now; and if the game lasts long enough they'll reach the chief, + find out who he is; and that'll put the kibosh on his usefulness here and + abroad. Well, here's home, and no more lecture from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry I've been so much trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we ought to have shown you which end shoots.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + If Kitty had any doubt as to the wisdom of her decision, the cold, gloomy + rooms of her apartment dissipated them. She wandered through the rooms, + musing, calling back animated scenes. What would the spirit of her mother + say? Had she doddered between Conover and Cutty? Perhaps. But she had been + one of the happy few who had guessed right. Singular thought: her mother + would have been happy with Cutty, too. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the relief of knowing what the future was going to be! She took off + her hat and tossed it upon the table. The good things of life, and a good + comrade. + </p> + <p> + Food. The larder would be empty and there was her breakfast to consider. + She passed out into the kitchen, wrote out a list of necessities, and put + it on the dumb waiter. Now for the dishes she had so hurriedly left. She + rolled up her sleeves, put on the apron, and fell to the task. After such + a night—dish-washing! She laughed. It was a funny old world. + </p> + <p> + Pauses. Perhaps she should have gone to a hotel, away from all familiar + objects. Those flatirons intermittently pulled her eyes round. Her fancy + played tricks with her whenever her glance touched the window. Faces + peering in. In a burst of impatience she dropped the dish towel, hurried + to the window, and threw it up. Black emptiness!... Cutty, crossing the + platform with Hawksley on his shoulders. She saw that, and it comforted + her. + </p> + <p> + She finished her work and started for bed. But first she entered the guest + room and turned on the lights. Olga. She had intended to ask him who Olga + was. + </p> + <p> + A great pity. They might have been friends. The back of her hand went to + her lips but did not touch them. She could not rub away those burning + kisses—that is, not with the back of her hand. Vividly she saw him + fiddling bareheaded in front of the Metropolitan Opera House. It seemed, + though, that it had happened years ago. A great pity. The charm of that + frolic would abide with her as long as she lived. A brave man, too. Hadn't + he left her with a gay wave of the hand, not knowing, for want of + strength, if he could make the detour of the block? That took courage. His + journey halfway across the world had taken courage. Yet he could so basely + disillusion her. It was not the kiss; it was the smile. She had seen that + smile before, born of evil. If only he had spoken! + </p> + <p> + The heavenly magic of that fiddle! It made her sad. Genius, the ability to + play with souls, soothe, tantalize, lift up; and then to smile at her like + that! + </p> + <p> + She shut down the curtain upon these cogitations and summoned Cutty, + visualized his handsome head, shot with gray, the humour of his smile. She + did care for him; no doubt of that. She couldn't have sent that telegram + else. Cutty—name of a pipe, as the Frenchmen said! All at once she + rocked with laughter. She was going to marry a man whose given name she + could not recall! Henry, George, John, William? For the life of her she + could not remember. + </p> + <p> + And with this laughter still bubbling in a softer note she got into bed, + twisted about from side to side, from this pillow to that, the tired body + seeking perfect relaxation. + </p> + <p> + A broken melody entered her head. Sleepily she sought one channel of + thought after another to escape; still the melody persisted. As her + consciousness dodged hither and thither the bars and measures joined.... + She sat up, chilled, bewildered. That Tschaikowsky waltz! She could hear + it as clearly as if Johnny Two-Hawks and the Amati were in the very room. + She grew afraid. Of what? She did not know. + </p> + <p> + And while she sat there in bed threshing out this fear to find the grain, + Cutty was tramping the streets of Washington, her telegram crumpled in his + hand. From time to time he would open it and reread it under a street + lamp. + </p> + <p> + To marry her and then to cheat her. It wasn't humanly possible to marry + her and then to let her go. He thought of those warm, soft arms round his + neck, the absolute trust of that embrace. Molly's girl. No, he could not + do it. He would have to back down, tell her he could not put the bargain + through, invent some other scheme. + </p> + <p> + The idea had been repugnant to her. It had taken her a week to fight it + out. It was a little beyond his reach, however, why the idea should have + been repugnant to her. It entailed nothing beyond a bit of mummery. The + repugnance was not due to religious training. The Conover household, as he + recalled it, had been rather lax in that respect. Why, then, should Kitty + have hesitated? + </p> + <p> + He thought of Hawksley, and swore. But for Hawksley's suggestion no muddle + like this would have occurred. Devil take him and his infernal green + stones! + </p> + <p> + Cutty suddenly remembered his train. He looked at his watch and saw that + his lower berth was well on the way to Baltimore. Always and eternally he + was missing something. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + Not unusually, when we burn our bridges, we have in the back of our minds + the dim hope that there may be a shallow ford somewhere. Thus, bridges + should not be burned impulsively; there may be no ford. + </p> + <p> + The idea of retreat pushed forward in Kitty's mind the moment she awoke; + but she pressed it back in shame. She had given her word, and she would + stand by it. + </p> + <p> + The night had been a series of wild impulses. She had not sent that + telegram to Cutty as the result of her deliberations in the country. + Impulse; a flash, and the thing was done, her bridges burned. To crush + Johnny Two-Hawks, fill his cup with chagrin, she had told him she was + going to marry Cutty. That was the milk in the cocoanut. Morning has a way + of showing up night-gold for what it is—tinsel. Kitty saw the stage + of last night's drama dismantled. If there was a shallow ford, she would + never lower her pride to seek it. She had told Two-Hawks, sent that wire + to Cutty, broke the news to Bernini. + </p> + <p> + But did she really want to go back? Not to know her own mind, to swing + back and forth like a pendulum! Was it because she feared that, having + married Cutty, she might actually fall in love with some other man later? + She could still go through the mummery as Cutty had planned; but what + about all the sublime generosity of the preceding night? + </p> + <p> + A queer feeling pervaded her: She was a marionette, a human manikin, and + some invisible hand was pulling the wires that made her do all these + absurd things. Her own mind no longer controlled her actions. The + persistence of that waltz! It had haunted her, broken into her dreams, + awakened her out of them. Why should she be afraid? What was there to be + afraid of in a recurring melody? She had heard a dozen famed violinists + play it. It had never before affected her beyond a flash of emotionalism. + Perhaps it was the romantic misfortune of the man, the mystery surrounding + him, the menace which walled him in. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast. Human manikins had appetites. So she made her breakfast. Before + leaving the kitchen she stopped at the window. The sun filled the court + with brilliant light. The patches of rust on the fire-escape ladder, which + was on the Gregor side of the platform, had the semblance of powdered + gold. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later she was speeding downtown to the office. All through + the day she walked, worked, talked as one in the state of trance. There + were periods of stupefaction which at length roused Burlingame's + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, what's the matter with you? You look dazed about something.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you clean a pipe?” she countered, irrelevantly. + </p> + <p> + “Clean a pipe?” he repeated, nearly overbalancing his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You see, I may make up my mind to marry a man who smokes a pipe,” + said Kitty, desperately, eager to steer Burlingame into another channel; + “and certainly I ought to know how to clean one.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, I'm an old-timer. You can't sidetrack me like this. Something has + happened. You say you had a great time in the country, and you come in as + pale as the moon, like someone suffering from shell shock. Ever since + Cutty came in here that day you've been acting oddly. You may not know it, + but Cutty asked me to send you out of town. You've been in some kind of + danger. What's the yarn?” + </p> + <p> + “So big that no newspaper will ever publish it, Burly. If Cutty wants to + tell you some day he can. I haven't the right to.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he drag you into it or did you fall into it?” + </p> + <p> + “I walked into it, as presently I shall walk out of it—all on my + own. + </p> + <p> + “Better keep your eyes open. Cutty's a stormy petrel; when he flies + there's rough weather.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably what he has already told you—that he is a foreign agent of + the Government. What do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything but one thing, and that's a problem particularly my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Alien stuff, I suppose. Cutty's strong on that. Well, mind your step. The + boys are bringing in queer scraps about something big going to happen May + Day—no facts, just rumours. Better shoot for home the shortest route + each night and stick round there.” + </p> + <p> + There are certain spiritual exhilarants that nullify caution, warning the + presence of danger. The boy with his first pay envelope, the lover who has + just been accepted, the debutante on the way to her first ball; the + impetus that urges us to rush in where angels fear to tread. + </p> + <p> + At a quarter after five Kitty left the office for home, unaware that the + attribute designated as caution had evaporated from her system. She + proceeded toward the Subway mechanically, the result of habit. Casually + she noted two taxicabs standing near the Subway entrance. That she noted + them at all was due to the fact that Subway entrances were not fortuitous + hunting grounds for taxicabs. Only the unusual would have attracted her in + her present condition of mind. It takes time and patience to weave a good + web—observe any spider—time in finding a suitable place for + it; patience in the spinning. All that worried Karlov was the possibility + of her not observing him. If he could place his taxicabs where they would + attract her, even casually, the main difficulty would be out of the way. + The moment she turned her head toward the cabs he would step out into + plain view. The girl was susceptible and adventuresome. + </p> + <p> + Kitty saw a man step out of the foremost taxicab, give some instructions + to the chauffeur, and get back into the cab, immediately to be driven off + at moderate speed. She recognized the man at once. Never would she forget + that squat, gorilla-like body. Karlov! Yonder, in that cab! She ran to the + remaining cab; wherein she differed from angels. + </p> + <p> + “Are you free?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “See that taxi going across town? Follow it and I will give you ten extra + fare.” + </p> + <p> + “You're on, miss.” + </p> + <p> + Karlov peered through the rear window of his cab. If she had in tow a + Federal agent the manoeuvre would fail, at a great risk to himself. But he + would soon be able to tell whether or not she was being followed. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, she was not. She had returned to New York a day + before she was expected. Her unknown downtown guardian would not turn up + for duty until ordered by Cutty to do so. She entered the second cab with + no definite plan in her head. Karlov, the man who wanted to kill Johnny + Two-Hawks, the man who held Stefani Gregor a prisoner! For the present + these facts were sufficient. “Don't get too near,” said Kitty through the + speaking tube. “Just keep the cab in sight.” + </p> + <p> + A perfectly logical compensation. She herself had set in motion the + machinery of this amazing adventure; it was logically right that she + should end it. Poor dear old Cutty—to fancy he could pull the wool + over Kitty Conover's eyes! Cutty, the most honest man alive, had set his + foot upon an unethical bypath and now found himself among nettles. To keep + Johnny Two-Hawks prisoner in that lofty apartment while he hunted for the + drums of jeopardy! Hadn't he said he had seen emeralds he would steal with + half a chance? Cutty, playing at this sort of game, his conscience biting + whichever way he turned! He had been hunting unsuccessfully for the stones + that night he had come in with his face and hands bloody. Why hadn't he + kissed her? + </p> + <p> + Johnny Two-Hawks—bourgeois? Utter nonsense! Of course it did not + matter now what he was; he had dug a bridgeless chasm with that smile. + Sometime to-morrow he and Stefani Gregor would be on their way to Montana; + and that would be the last of them both. To-morrow would mark the fork in + the road. But life would never again be humdrum for Kitty Conover. + </p> + <p> + The taxicabs were bumping over cobbles, through empty streets. It was six + by now; at that hour this locality, which she recognized as the warehouse + district, was always dead. The deserted streets, how ever, set in motion a + slight perturbation. Supposing Karlov grew suspicious and turned aside + from his objective? Even as this disturbing thought took form Karlov's + taxicab stopped. Kitty's stopped also, but without instructions from her. + She had intended to drive on and from the rear window observe if Karlov + entered that old red-brick house. + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” she called through the tube. + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur obeyed, but he stopped again directly behind Karlov's + taxicab. He slid off his seat and opened the door. His face was grim. + </p> + <p> + Tumpitum-tump! Tumpitum-tump! She did not hear the tocsin this time; she + felt it on her spine—the drums of fear. If they touched her! + </p> + <p> + “Come with me, miss. If you are sensible you will not be harmed. If you + cut up a racket I'll have to carry you.” + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” faltered Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “That we have finally got you, miss. You can see for yourself that there + isn't any help in sight. Better take it sensibly. We don't intend to hurt + you. It's somebody else we want. There's a heavy score against you, but + we'll overlook it if you act sensibly. You were very clever last night; + but the game depends upon the last trick.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go sensibly,” Kitty agreed. They must not touch her! + </p> + <p> + Karlov did not speak as he opened the door of the house for her. His + expression was Buddha-like. + </p> + <p> + “This way, miss,” said the chauffeur, affably. + </p> + <p> + “You are an American?” + </p> + <p> + “Whenever it pays.” + </p> + <p> + Presently Kitty found herself in the attic, alone. They hadn't touched + her; so much was gained. Poor little fool that she was! It was fairly dark + now, but overhead she could see the dim outlines of the scuttle or trap. + The attic was empty except for a few pieces of lumber and some soap boxes. + She determined to investigate the trap at once, before they came again. + </p> + <p> + She placed two soap boxes on end and laid a plank across. After testing + its stability she mounted. She could reach the trap easily, with plenty of + leverage to spare. She was confident that she could draw herself up to the + roof. She sought for the hooks and liberated them, then she placed her + palms against the trap and heaved. Not even a creak answered her. She + pressed upward again and again. The trap was immovable. + </p> + <p> + Light. She turned, to behold Karlov in the doorway, a candlestick in his + hand. “The scuttle is covered with cement, Miss Conover. Nobody can get in + or out.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty got down, her knees uncertain. If he touched her! Oh, the fool she + had been! + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with me?” she asked through dry lips. + </p> + <p> + “You are to me a bill of exchange, payable in something more precious to + me than gold. I am going to keep you here until you are ransomed. The + ransom is the man you have been shielding. If he isn't here by midnight + you vanish. Oh, we shan't harm you. Merely you will disappear until my + affairs in America are terminated. You are clever and resourceful for so + young a woman. You will understand that we are not going to turn aside. + You are not a woman to me; you are a valuable pawn. You are something to + bargain for.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Kitty, her heart trying to burst through. It seemed + impossible that Karlov should not hear the thunder. To placate him, to + answer his questions, to keep him from growing angry! + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would.” Karlov set the candle on Kitty's impromptu + stepladder. “We saw your interest in the affair, and attacked you on that + side. You had seen me once. Being a newspaper writer—the New York + kind—you would not rest until you learned who I was. You would not + forget me. You were too well guarded uptown. You have been out of the city + for a week. We could not find where. You were reported seen entering your + office this morning; and here you are. My one fear was that you might not + see me. Personally you will have no cause to worry. No hand shall touch + you. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't misunderstand. There is no sentiment behind this promise. I imagine + your protector will sacrifice much for your sake. Simply it is unnecessary + to offer you any violence. Do you know who the man is your protector is + shielding?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Has he played the fiddle for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Karlov smiled. “Did you dance?” + </p> + <p> + “Dance? I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter. He can play the fiddle nearly as well as his master. The two + of them have gone across the world fiddling the souls of women out of + their bodies.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty sat down weakly on the plank. Terror from all points. Karlov's + unexcited tones—his lack of dramatic gesture—convinced her + that this was deadly business. Terror that for all the promise of immunity + they might lay hands on her. Terror for Johnny Two-Hawks, for Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “Has he injured you?” she asked, to gain time. + </p> + <p> + “He is an error in chronology. He represents an idea which no longer + exists.” He spoke English fluently, but with a rumbling accent. + </p> + <p> + “But to kill him for that!” + </p> + <p> + “Kill him? My dear young lady, I merely want him to fiddle for me,” said + Karlov with another smile. + </p> + <p> + “You tried to kill him,” insisted Kitty, the dryness beginning to leave + her throat. + </p> + <p> + “Bungling agents. Do know what became of them—the two who invaded + your bedroom?” + </p> + <p> + “They were taken away the police.” + </p> + <p> + “So I thought. What became of the wallet?” + </p> + <p> + “I found it hidden on the back of my stove.” + </p> + <p> + “I never thought to look there,” said Karlov, musingly. “Who has the + drums?” + </p> + <p> + “The emeralds? You haven't them!” cried Kitty, becoming her mother's + daughter, though her heart never beat so thunderously as now. “We thought + you had them!” + </p> + <p> + Karlov stared at her, moodily. “What is that button for, at the side of + your bed?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty comprehended the working of the mind that formulated this question. + If she answered truthfully he would accept her statements. “It rings an + alarm in the basement.” + </p> + <p> + Karlov nodded. “You are truthful and sensible I haven't the emeralds.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps one of your men betrayed you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought of that. But if he had betrayed me the drums would have + been discovered by the police.... Damn them to hell!” Kitty wondered + whether he meant the police or the emeralds. + </p> + <p> + “Later, food and a blanket will be brought to you. If your ransom does not + appear by midnight you will be taken away. If you struggle we may have to + handle you roughly. That is as you please.” + </p> + <p> + Karlov went out, locking the door. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the blind little fool she had been! All those constant warnings, and + she had not heeded! Cutty had warned her repeatedly, so had Bernini; and + she had deliberately walked into this trap. As if this cold, murderous + madman would risk showing himself without some grim and terrible purpose. + She had written either Cutty's or Johnny Two-Hawks' death warrant. She + covered her eyes. It was horrible. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps not Cutty, but assuredly Two-hawks. His life for her liberty. + </p> + <p> + “And he will come!” she whispered. She knew it. How, was not to be + analyzed. She just knew that he would come. What if he had smiled like + that! The European point of view and her own monumental folly. He would + come quietly, without protest, and give himself up. + </p> + <p> + “God forgive me! What can I do? What can I do?” + </p> + <p> + She slid to the floor and rocked her body. Her fault! He would come—even + as Cutty would have come had he been the man demanded. And Karlov would + kill him—because he was an error in chronology! She sensed also that + the anarchist would not look upon his act as murder. He would be removing + an obstacle from the path of his sick dreams. + </p> + <p> + Comparisons! She saw how much alike the two were. Cutty was only Johnny + Two-Hawks at fifty-two—fearless and whimsical. Had Cutty gone + through life without looking at some woman as, last night, Two-Hawks had + looked at her? All the rest of her life she would see Two-Hawks' eyes. + </p> + <p> + Abysmal fool, to pit her wits against such men as Karlov! Because she had + been successful to a certain extent, she had overrated her cleverness, + with this tragic result... He had fiddled the soul out of her. But death! + </p> + <p> + She sprang up. It was maddening to sit still, to feel the approach of the + tragedy without being able to prevent it. She investigated the windows. No + hope in this direction. It was rapidly growing dark outside. What time was + it? + </p> + <p> + The door opened. A man she had not seen before came in with a blanket, a + pitcher of water, and some graham crackers. His fingers were stained a + brilliant yellow and a peculiar odour emanated from his clothes. He did + not speak to her, but set the articles on the floor and departed. + </p> + <p> + Kitty did not stir. An hour passed; she sat as one in a trance. The tallow + dip was sinking. By and by she became conscious of a faint sound, a + tapping. Whence it came she could not tell. She moved about cautiously, + endeavouring to locate it. When she finally did the blood drummed in her + ears. The trap! Someone was trying to get in through the trap! + </p> + <p> + Cutty! Thus soon! Who else could it be? She hunted for a piece of lumber + light enough to raise to the trap. She tapped three times, and waited. + Silence. She repeated the signal. This time it was answered. Cutty! In a + little while she would be free, and Two-Hawks would not have to pay for + her folly with his life. Terror and remorse departed forthwith. + </p> + <p> + She took the plank to the door and pushed one end under the door knob. + Then she piled the other planks against the butt. The moment she heard + steps on the stairs she would stand on the planks. It would be difficult + to open that door. She sat down on the planks to wait. From time to time + she built up the falling tallow. Cutty must have light. The tapping on the + trap went on. They were breaking away the cement. Perhaps an hour passed. + At least it seemed a very long time. + </p> + <p> + Steps on the stairs! She stood up, facing the door, the roots of her hair + tingling. She heard the key turn in the lock; and then as in a nightmare + she felt the planks under her feet stir slightly but with sinister + persistence. She presently saw the toe of a boot insert, itself between + the door and the jamb. The pressure increased; the space between the door + and the jamb widened. Suddenly the boot vanished, the door closed, and the + plank fell. Immediately thereafter Karlov stood inside the room, scowling + suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + Cutty arrived at the apartment in time to share dinner with Hawksley. He + had wisely decided to say nothing about the escapade of Hawksley and Kitty + Conover, since it had terminated fortunately. Bernini had telegraphed the + gist of the adventure. He could readily understand Hawksley's part; but + Kitty's wasn't reducible to ordinary terms of expression. The young chap + had run wild because his head still wobbled on his shoulders and because + his isolation was beginning to scratch his nerves. But for Kitty to run + wild with him offered a blank wall to speculation. (As if he could solve + the riddle when Kitty herself could not!) So he determined to shut himself + up in his study and shuffle the chrysoprase. Something might come of it. + Looking backward, he recognized the salient, at no time had he been quite + sure of Kitty. She seemed to be a combination of shallows and unfathomable + deeps. + </p> + <p> + From the Pennsylvania Station he had called up the office. Kitty had gone. + Bernini informed him that Kitty was dining at a cafe on the way home. + Cutty was thorough. He telephoned the restaurant and was advised that Miss + Conover had reserved a table. He had forgotten to send down the operative + who guarded Kitty at that end. But the distance from the office to the + Subway was so insignificant! + </p> + <p> + “You are looking fit,” he said across the table. + </p> + <p> + “Ought to be off your hands by Monday. But what about Stefani Gregor? I + can't stir, leaving him hanging on a peg.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going into the study shortly to decide that. Head bother you?” + </p> + <p> + “Occasionally.” + </p> + <p> + “Ryan easy to get along with?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather a good sort. I say, you know, you've seen a good deal of life. + Which do you consider the stronger, the inherited traits or environment?” + </p> + <p> + “Environment. That is the true mould. There is good and bad in all of us. + It is brought into prominence by the way we live. An angel cannot touch + pitch without becoming defiled. On the other hand, the worst gutter rats + in the world saved France. Do you suppose that thought will not always be + tugging at and uplifting those who returned from the first Marne?” + </p> + <p> + “There is hope, then, for me!” + </p> + <p> + “Hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You know that my father, my uncle, and my grandfather were fine + scoundrels.” + </p> + <p> + “Under their influence you would have been one, too. But no man could live + with Stefani Gregor and not absorb his qualities. Your environment has + been Anglo-Saxon, where the first block in the picture is fair play. You + have been constantly under the tutelage of a fine and lofty personality, + Gregor's. Whatever evil traits you may have inherited, they have become + subject to the influences that have surrounded you. Take me, for instance. + I was born in a rather puritanical atmosphere. My environments have always + been good. Yet there lurks in me the taint of Macaire. Given the wrong + environment, I should now have my picture in the Rogues' Gallery.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Hawksley played with his fork. “If you had a daughter would you trust me + with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Any man who can weep unashamed over the portrait of his mother may + be trusted. Once you are out there in Montana you'll forget all about your + paternal forbears.” + </p> + <p> + Handsome beggar, thought Cutty; but evidently born under the opal. An + inexplicable resentment against his guest stirred his heart. He resented + his youth, his ease of manner, his fluency in the common tongue. He was + theoretically a Britisher; he thought British; approached subjects from a + British point of view. A Britisher—except when he had that fiddle + tucked under his chin. Then Cutty admitted he did not know what he was. + Devil take him! + </p> + <p> + There must have been something electrical in Cutty's resentment, for the + object of it felt it subtly, and it fired his own. He resented the freedom + of action that had always been denied him, resented his host's mental and + physical superiority. Did Cutty care for the girl, or was he playing the + game as it had been suggested to him? Money and freedom. But then, it was + in no sense a barter; she would be giving nothing, and the old beggar + would be asking nothing. His suggestion! He laughed. + </p> + <p> + “What's the joke?” asked Cutty, looking up from his coffee, which he was + stirring with unnecessary vigour. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't a joke. I'm bally well twisted. I laugh now when I think of + something tragic. I am sorry about last night. I was mad, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about it.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty listened intently and smiled occasionally. Mad as hatters, both of + them. He and Kitty couldn't have gone on a romp like this, but Kitty and + Hawksley could. Thereupon his resentment boiled up again. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea why she took such a risk? Why she came here, knowing me + to be absent?” + </p> + <p> + “She spoke of a problem. I fancy it related to your approaching marriage. + She told me.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty laid down his spoon. “I'd like to dump Your Highness into the middle + of East River for putting that idea into my head. She has consented to it; + and now, damn it, I've got to back out of it!” Cutty rose and flung down + his napkin. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked the bewildered Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + “Because there is in me the making of a first-rate scoundrel, and I never + should have known it if you and your affairs hadn't turned up.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty entered his study and slammed the door, leaving Hawksley prey to so + many conflicting emotions that his head began to bother him. Back out of + it! Why? Why should Kitty have a problem to solve over such a marriage of + convenience, and why should the old thoroughbred want to back out? + </p> + <p> + Kitty would be free, then? A flash of fire, which subsided quickly under + the smothering truth. What if she were free? He could not ask her to be + his wife. Not because of last night's madness. That no longer troubled + him. She was the sort who would understand, if he told her. She had a soul + big with understanding. It was that he walked in the shadow of death, and + would so long as Karlov was free; and he could not ask any woman to share + that. + </p> + <p> + He pushed back his chair slowly. In the living room he took the Amati from + its case and began improvising. What the chrysoprase did for Cutty the + fiddle did for this derelict—solved problems. + </p> + <p> + He reviewed all the phases as he played. That dish of bacon and eggs, the + resolute air of her, that popping fan! [Allegretto.] She had found him + senseless on the floor. She had had the courage to come to his assistance. + [Andante con espressione.] What had been in her mind that night she had + taken flight from his bedroom, after having given him the wallet? + Something like tears. What about? An American girl, natural, humorous, and + fanciful. Somehow he felt assured that it had not been his kisses; she had + looked into his eyes and seen the taint. Always there, the beast that old + Stefani had chained and subdued. He knew now that this beast would never + again lift its head. And he had let her go without a sign. + [Dolorosomente.] To have gone through life with a woman who would have + understood his nature. The test of her had been last night in the streets. + His mood had been hers. [Allegretto con amore.] + </p> + <p> + “Love,” he said, lowering the bow. + </p> + <p> + “Love,” said Cutty, shifting his chrysoprase. There was no fool like an + old fool. It did not serve to recall Molly in all her glory, to reach + hither and yon for a handhold to pull him out of this morass. Molly had + become an invisible ghost. He loved her daughter. Double sunset; the + phenomenon of the Indian Ocean was now being enacted upon his own horizon. + Double sunset. + </p> + <p> + But why should Kitty have any problem to solve? Why should she dodder over + such a trifle as this prospective official marriage? It was only a joke + which would legalize his generosity. She had sent that telegram after + leaving this apartment. What had happened here to decide her? Had Hawksley + fiddled? There was something the matter with the green stones to-night; + they evoked nothing. + </p> + <p> + He leaned back in his chair, listening, the bowl of his pipe touching the + lapel of his coat. Music. Queer, what you could do with a fiddle if you + knew how. + </p> + <p> + After all there was no sense in venting his anger on Hawksley. He was + hoist by his own petard. Why not admit the truth? He had had a crack on + the head the same night as Hawksley; only, he had been struck by an idea, + often more deadly than the butt of a pistol. He would apologize for that + roaring exit from the dining room. The poor friendless devil! He bent + toward the green stones again. In the living room Hawksley sat in a chair, + the fiddle across his knees. He understood now. The old chap was in love + with the girl, and was afraid of himself; couldn't risk having her and + letting her go.... A curse on the drums of jeopardy! Misfortune followed + their wake always. The world would have been different this hour if he—The + break in the trend of thought was caused by the entrance of Kuroki, who + was followed by a man. This man dropped into a chair without apparently + noticing that the room was already tenanted, for he never glanced toward + Hawksley. A haggard face, dull of eye. Kuroki bobbed and vanished, but + returned shortly, beckoning the stranger to follow him into the study. + </p> + <p> + “Coles?” cried Cutty delightedly. Here was the man he had sent to + negotiate for the emeralds, free. “How did you escape? We've combed the + town for you.” + </p> + <p> + “They had me in a room on Fifteenth Street. Once in a while I got + something to eat. But I haven't escaped. I'm still a prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I am here as an emissary. There was nothing for me to do but accept the + job.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he have the stones?” asked Cutty, without the least suspicion of what + was coming. + </p> + <p> + “That I don't know. He pretended to have them in order to get me where he + wanted me. I've been hungry a good deal because I wouldn't talk. I'm here + as a negotiator. A rotten business. I agreed because I've hopes you'll be + able to put one over on Karlov. It's the girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty?” + </p> + <p> + “Karlov has her. The girl wasn't to blame. Any one in the game would have + done as she did. Karlov is bugs on politics; but he's shrewd enough at + this sort of game. He trapped the girl because he'd studied her enough to + learn what she would or would not do. Now they are not going to hurt her. + They merely propose exchanging her for the man you've been hiding up here. + There's a taxi downstairs. It will carry me back to Fifteenth; then it + will return and wait. If the man is not at the appointed place by midnight—he + must go in this taxi—the girl will be carried off elsewhere, and + you'll never lay eyes on her again. Karlov and his gang are potential + assassins; all they want is excuse. Until midnight they will not touch the + girl; but after midnight, God knows! What message am I to take back?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where she is?” + </p> + <p> + Cutty spoke without much outward emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Not the least idea. Whenever Karlov wanted to quiz me, he appeared late + at night from some other part of the town. But he never got much.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw him this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It probably struck him as a fine joke to send me.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you don't go back?” + </p> + <p> + “The girl will be taken away. I'm honestly afraid of the man. He's too + quiet spoken. That kind of a man always goes the limit.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Wait here.” + </p> + <p> + At Cutty's approach Hawksley looked up apathetically. + </p> + <p> + “Want me?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “You are pale. Anything serious?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Karlov has got Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + For a minute Hawksley did not stir. Then he got up, put away the Amati, + and came back. He was pale, too. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he said. “They will exchange her for me. Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But you are not obliged to do anything like that, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + “You give yourself up?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “You're a man!” Cutty burst out. + </p> + <p> + “I was brought up by one. Honestly, now, could I ever look a white man in + the face again if I didn't give myself up? I did begin to believe that I + might get through. But Fate was only playing with me. May I use your desk + to write a line?” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” said Cutty, unsteadily. This was not the result of + environment. Quiet courage of this order was race. No questions demanding + if there wasn't some way round the inevitable. Cutty's heart glowed; the + boy had walked into it, never to leave it. “I'm ready.” It took a man to + say that when the sequence was death. + </p> + <p> + “Coles,” said Cutty upon reentering the study, “tell Karlov that His + Highness will give himself up. He will be there before midnight.” + </p> + <p> + “That's enough for me. But if there's the least sign that you're not + playing straight it will be all off. Two men will be watching the taxi and + the entrance. If you appear, it's good-night. They told me to warn you.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise not to appear.” + </p> + <p> + Coles smiled enigmatically and reached for his hat. He held his hand out + to Hawksley. “You're a white man, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” said Hawksley, absently. To have it all over with! + </p> + <p> + As soon as the captive Federal agent withdrew Hawksley sat down at the + desk and wrote. + </p> + <p> + “Will this hold legally?” he asked, extending the written sheet to Cutty. + </p> + <p> + Cutty saw that it was a simple will. In it Hawksley gave half of his + possessions to Kitty and half to Stefani Gregor. In case the latter was + dead the sum total was to go to Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “I got you into a muddle; this will take you out of it. Karlov will kill + me. I don't know how. I am his obsession. He will sleep better with me off + his mind. Will this hold legally?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But why Kitty Conover, a stranger?” + </p> + <p> + “Is a woman who saves your life a stranger?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not exactly. This is what we might call zero hour. I gave you a + haven here not particularly because I was sorry for you, but because I + wanted those emeralds. Once upon a time Gregor showed them to me. Until I + examined your wallet I supposed you had smuggled in the stones; and that + would have been fair game. But you had paid your way in honestly. Now, + what did you do to Kitty Conover last night that decided her to accept + that fool proposition? She sent her acceptance after she left you. + </p> + <p> + “I did not know that. I played for her. She became music-struck, and I + took advantage of it—kissed her. Then she told me she was going to + marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is why you asked me if I would trust you with a daughter of + mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Conscience. That explains this will.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Why did you accept my suggestion to marry her?” + </p> + <p> + “To make her comfortable without sidestepping the rules of convention.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Because you love her—the way I do.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty's pipe slipped from his teeth. It did not often do that. He stamped + out the embers and laid the pipe on the tray. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think I love her?” + </p> + <p> + “What makes me tell you that I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, death may be at the end of to-night's work; so I'll admit that I + love her. She is like a forest stream, wild at certain turns, but always + sweet and clear. I'm an old fool, old enough to be her father. I loved her + mother. Can a man love two women with all his heart, one years after the + other?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the avatar; she is the reincarnation of the mother. I understand + now. What was a beautiful memory takes living form again. You still love + the mother; the daughter has revived that love.” + </p> + <p> + “By the Lord Harry, I believe you've struck it! Walked into the fog and + couldn't find the way out. Of course. What an old ass I've been! Simple as + daylight. I've simply fallen in love with Molly all over again, thinking + it was Kitty. Plain as the nose on my face. And I might have made a fine + mess of it if you hadn't waked me up.” + </p> + <p> + All this gentle irony went over Hawksley's head. “When do you wish me to + go down to the taxi?” + </p> + <p> + “Son, I'm beginning to like you. You shall have your chance. In fact, + we'll take it together. There'll be a taxi but I'll hire it. I'm quite + positive I know where Kitty is. If I'm correct you'll have your chance. If + I'm wrong you'll have to pay the score. We'll get her out or we'll stay + where she is. In any event, Karlov will pay the price. Wouldn't you prefer + to go out—if you must—in a glorious scrap?” + </p> + <p> + “Fighting?” Hawksley was on his feet instantly. “Do you mean that? I can + die with free hands?” + </p> + <p> + “With a chance of coming out top-hole.” + </p> + <p> + “I say, what a ripping thing hope is—always springing back!” + </p> + <p> + Cutty nodded. But he knew there was one hope that would never warm his + heart again. Molly!... Well, he'd let the young chap believe that. Kitty + must never know. Poor little chick, fighting with her soul in the dark and + not knowing what the matter was! Such things happened. He had loved Molly + on sight. He had loved Kitty on sight. In neither case had he known it + until too late to turn about. Mother and daughter; a kind of sacrilege, as + if he had betrayed Molly! But what a clear vision acknowledged love lent + to the mind! He understood Kitty, who did not understand herself. Well, + this night's adventure would decide things. + </p> + <p> + He smiled. Neither Kitty nor the drums of jeopardy; nothing. The gates of + paradise again—for somebody else! Whoever heard of a prompter + receiving press notices? + </p> + <p> + “Let's look alive! We haven't any time to waste. We'll have to change to + dungarees—engineer togs. There'll be some tools to carry. We go + straight down to the boiler room. We come up the ash exit on the street + side. Remember, no suspicious haste. Two engineers off for their evening + swig of beer at the corner groggery. Through the side door there, and into + my taxi. Obey every order I give. Now run along to Kuroki and say night + work for both of us. He'll understand what's wanted. I'll set the + machinery in motion for a raid. How do you feel? I want the truth. I don't + want to turn to you for help and not get it.” + </p> + <p> + Hawksley laughed. “Don't worry about me. I'll carry on. Don't you + understand? To have an end of it, one way or the other! To come free or to + die there!” + </p> + <p> + “And if Kitty is not where I believe her to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll return to the taxi outside.” + </p> + <p> + To be young like that! thought Cutty, feeling strangely sad and old. “To + come free or to die there!” That was good Anglo-Saxon. He would make a + good American citizen—if he were in luck. + </p> + <p> + At half after nine the two of them knelt on the roof before the cemented + trap. Nothing but raging heat disintegrates cement. So the liberation of + this trap, considering the time, was a Herculean task, because it had to + be accomplished with little or no noise. Cold chisels, fulcrums, prying, + heaving, boring. To free the under edge; the top did not matter. Not + knowing if Kitty were below—that was the worst part of the job. + </p> + <p> + The sweat of agony ran down Hawksley's face; but he never faltered. He was + going to die to-night, somehow, somewhere, but with free hands, the way + Stefani would have him die, the way the girl would have him die. All these + thousands of miles—to die in a house he had never seen before, just + when life was really worth something! + </p> + <p> + An hour went by. Then they heard Kitty's signal. Instinctively the two of + them knew that the taps came from her. They were absolutely certain when + her signal was repeated. She was below, alone. + </p> + <p> + “Faster!” whispered Cutty. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley smiled. To say that to a chap when he was digging into his tomb! + </p> + <p> + When the sides of the trap were free Cutty tapped to Kitty again. There + was a long, agonizing wait. Then three taps came from below. Cutty flashed + a signal to the warehouse windows. In five minutes the raid would be in + full swing—from the roof, from the street, from the cellar. + </p> + <p> + With their short crowbars braced by stout fulcrums the two men heaved. + Noise did not matter now. Presently the trap went over. + </p> + <p> + “Look out for your hands; there's lots of loose glass. And together when + we drop.” + </p> + <p> + “Right-o!” whispered Hawksley, assured that when he dropped through the + trap the result would be oblivion. Done in. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + Karlov, upon forcing his way past Kitty's barricade, stared at her + doubtfully. This was a clever girl; she had proved her cleverness + frequently. She might have some reason other than fear in keeping him out. + So he put a fresh candle in the sconce and began to prowl. He pierced the + attic windows with a ranging glance; no one was in the yard or on the + Street. The dust on the windows had not been disturbed. + </p> + <p> + To Kitty the suspense was intolerable. At any moment Cutty might tap a + query to her. How to warn him that all was not well? A scream would do it; + but in that event when Cutty arrived there would be no Kitty Conover. + Something that would sound unusual to Cutty and accidental to Karlov. She + hit upon it. She seized a plank from her barricade, raised it to a + perpendicular position, then flung it down violently. Would Cutty hear and + comprehend that she was warning him? As a matter of fact, Cutty never + heard the crash, for at that particular minute he was standing up to get + the kinks out of his knees. + </p> + <p> + Karlov whirled on his heels, ran to Kitty, and snatched her wrist. “Why + did you do that?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty remained mute. “Answer!”—with a cruel twist. + </p> + <p> + “You hurt!” she gasped. Anything to gain time. She tried to break away. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you do that?” + </p> + <p> + “I was going to thrust it through a window to attract attention. It was + too heavy.” + </p> + <p> + This explanation was within bounds of reason. It is possible that Karlov—who + had merely come up with a fresh candle—would have departed but for a + peculiarly grim burst of humour on the part of Fate. + </p> + <p> + Tap—tap—tap? inquired the unsuspecting man on the roof—exactly + to Kitty like some innocent, inquisitive child embarrassing the family + before company. + </p> + <p> + Karlov flung her aside roughly, stepped under the trap, and cupped an ear. + He required no explanations from Kitty, who shrank to the wall and + remained pinned there by terror. Karlov's intuition was keen. Men on the + roof held but one significance. The house was surrounded by Federal + agents. For a space he wavered between two desires, the political and the + private vengeance. + </p> + <p> + A call down the stairs, and five minutes afterward there would be nothing + on the spot but a jumble of smoking wood and brick. But not to see them + die! + </p> + <p> + His subsequent acts, cold and methodical, fascinated Kitty. He took a step + toward her. The scream died in her throat. But he did not go beyond that + step. The picture of her terror decided his future actions. He would see + them die, here, with the girl looking on. A full measure. Well enough he + knew who were digging away the cement of the trap. What gave lodgment to + this conviction he did not bother to analyze. The man he had not yet seen, + who had balked him, now here, now there, from that first night; and who + but the last of that branch of the hated house should be with him? To + rend, batter, crush, kill! If he were bound for hell, to go there with the + satisfaction of knowing that his private vengeance had been cancelled. The + full reckoning for Anna's degradation: Stefani Gregor, broken and dying, + and all the others dead! + </p> + <p> + He would shoot them as they dropped through the trap. Not to kill, but to + maim, render helpless; then he would taunt them and grind his heels in + their faces. Up there, the two he most hated of all living men! + </p> + <p> + First he restored Kitty's barricade—to keep assistance from entering + before his work was completed. The butt of the first plank he pushed under + the door knob. The other planks he laid flat, end to end, with the butt of + the last snug against the brick chimney. The door would never give as a + whole; it would have to be smashed in by axes. He then set the candle on + the floor, backed by an up-ended soapbox. His enemies would drop into a + pool of light, while they would not be able to see him at once. The girl + would not matter. Her terror would hold her for some time. These + manoeuvres completed, he answered the signal, sat down on another box and + waited, reminding Kitty of some grotesque Mongolian idol. + </p> + <p> + Kitty saw the inevitable. Thereupon her terror ceased to bind her. As + Cutty flung back the trap she would cry out a warning. Karlov might—and + probably would—kill her. Her share in this night's work—her + incredible folly—required full payment. Having decided to die with + Cutty, all her courage returned. This is the normal result of any sublime + resolve. But with the return of her courage she evolved another plan. She + measured the distance between herself and Karlov, calculating there would + be three strides. As Cutty dropped she would fling herself upon the + madman. The act would at least give Cutty something like equal terms. What + became of Kitty Conover thereafter was of no importance to the world. + </p> + <p> + Sounds. She became conscious of noises elsewhere in the house. The floor + trembled. There came a creaking and snapping of wood, and she heard the + trap fall. Karlov stood up, menacing, terrible. She saw where Cutty would + drop, and now understood the cunning of the manoeuvre of placing the + candle in front of the soapbox. Cutty would be an absolute mark for + Karlov, protected by the shadow. She set herself, as a runner at the tape. + </p> + <p> + Karlov was not the type criminal, which when cornered, thinks only of + personal safety. He was a political fanatic. All who opposed his beliefs + must not be permitted to survive. There was a touch of Torquemada of the + Inquisition in his cosmos. He could not kill directly; he had to torture + first. + </p> + <p> + He knew by the ascending sounds that there would be no way out of this for + him. To the American, Russia was an outlaw. He would be treated as a + dangerous alien enemy and locked up. Boris Karlov should never live to eat + his heart out behind bars. + </p> + <p> + Unique angle of thought, he mused. He wanted mud to trample them in, + Russian mud. The same mud that had filled the mouth of Anna's destroyer. + </p> + <p> + He was, then, a formidable antagonist for any two strong men; let alone + two one of whom was rather spent, the other dizzy with pain, holding + himself together by the last shreds of his will. They dropped through the + trap, Cutty in front of the candle, Hawksley a little to one side. The + elder man landed squarely, but Hawksley fell backward. He crawled to his + feet, swaying drunkenly. For a space he was not sure of the reality of the + scene.... Torches and hobnailed boots! + </p> + <p> + “So!” said Karlov. + </p> + <p> + The torturer must talk; he must explain the immediate future to double the + agony. He could have maimed them both, then trampled them to death, but he + had to inform them of the fact. He pointed the automatic at Cutty because + he considered this man the more dangerous of the two. He at once saw that + the other was a negligible factor. He spoke slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And the girl shall witness your agonies,” he concluded. + </p> + <p> + Cutty, bereft of invention, could only stare. Death! He had faced it many + times, but always with a chance. There was none here, and the absolute + knowledge paralyzed him. + </p> + <p> + Had Cutty been alone Kitty would have rushed at the madman; but the sight + of Hawksley robbed her of all mobility. His unexpected appearance was to + her the Book of Revelation. The blind alley she had entered and reentered + so many times and so futilely crumbled.... Johnny Two-Hawks! + </p> + <p> + As for Hawksley, he knew he had but little time. The floor was billowing; + he saw many candles where he knew there was only one. He was losing his + senses. There remained but a single idea—to do the old thoroughbred + one favour for the many. Scorning death—perhaps inviting it—he + lunged headlong at Karlov's knees. + </p> + <p> + This reckless challenge to death was so unexpected that Karlov had no time + to aim. He fired at chance. The bullet nipped the left shoulder of + Hawksley's coat and shattered the laths of the partition between the attic + and the servant's quarters. Under the impact of the human catapult Karlov + staggered back, desperately striving to maintain his balance. He succeeded + because Hawksley's senses left him in the instant he struck Karlov's + knees. Still, the episode was a respite for Cutty, who dashed at Karlov + before the latter could set himself or raise the smoking automatic. + </p> + <p> + Kitty then witnessed—dimly—a primordial, titanic conflict + which haunted her dreams for many nights to come. They were no longer men, + but animals; the tiger giving combat to the gorilla, one striking the + quick, terrible blows of the tiger, the other seeking always to come to + grips. + </p> + <p> + The floor answered under the step and rush. Rare athletes, these two; big + men who were light on their feet. Kitty could see their faces occasionally + and the flash of their bare hands, but of their bodies little or nothing. + Nor could she tell how the struggle was going. Indeed until the idea came + that they might be trampling Johnny Two-Hawks there was no coherent + thought in her head, only broken things. + </p> + <p> + She ran to the soapbox and kicked it aside. She saw Hawksley on his face, + motionless. At least they should not trample his dead body. She caught + hold of his arms and dragged him to the wall—to discover that she + was sobbing, sobs of rage and despair that tore at her breast horribly and + clogged her throat. She was a woman and could not help; she could not help + Cutty! She was a woman, and all she could do was to drag aside the + lifeless body of the man who had given Cutty his chance! + </p> + <p> + She knelt, turning Hawksley over on his back. There was a slight gash on + one grimy cheek, possibly caused by contact with the latchets of Karlov's + boots. She raised the handsome head, pressed it to her bosom, and began to + sway her body from side to side. Tumult. The Federal agents were throwing + their bodies against the door repeatedly. In the semi-darkness Cutty + fought for his life. But Kitty neither heard nor saw. The world had + suddenly contracted; there was only this beautiful head in her arms; + beyond and about, nothing. + </p> + <p> + Cutty felt his strength ebbing; soon he would not be able to wrench + himself loose from those terrible arms. He knew all the phases of the + fighting game. Chivalry and fair play had no part in this contest. Clear + light, to observe what his blows were accomplishing; a minute or two of + clear light! Half the time his blows glanced. The next time those arms + wound about him, that would be the end. He was growing tired, winded; he + had not gone into battle fresh. He knew that many of his blows had gone + home. Any ordinary man would have dropped; but Karlov came on again and + again. + </p> + <p> + And all the while Karlov was not fighting Cutty; he was endeavouring to + remove him. He was an obstacle. What Karlov wanted was that head the girl + was holding in her arms; to grind his heel into it. Had Cutty stepped + aside Karlov would have rushed for the other man. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, the door, the door!” Cutty shouted in despair, taking a terrible + kick on the thigh. “The door!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty did not stir. + </p> + <p> + A panel in the door crushed in. The sole of a boot appeared and vanished. + Then an arm reached in, groping, touched the plank propped under the door + knob, wrenched and tugged until it fell. Immediately the attic became + filled with men. It was time. Karlov had Cutty in his arms. + </p> + <p> + This turn in the affair roused Kitty. Presently she saw men in a snarl, + heaving and billowing, with a sudden subsidence. The snarl untangled + itself; men began to step back and produce pocketlamps. Kitty saw Cutty's + face, battered and bloody, appear and disappear in a flash. She saw + Karlov's, too, as he was pulled to his feet, his hands manacled. Again she + saw Cutty. With shaking hand he was trying to attach the loose end of his + collar to the button. The absurdity of it! + </p> + <p> + “Take him away. But don't be rough with him. He's only a poor devil of a + madman,” said Cutty. + </p> + <p> + Karlov turned and calmly spat into Cutty's face. A dozen fists were + raised, but Cutty intervened. + </p> + <p> + “No! Let him be. Just take him away and lock him up. He's a rough road to + travel. And hustle a comfortable car for me to go home in. Not a word to + the newspapers. This isn't a popular raid.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the attic was cleared Cutty limped over to Molly Conover's + daughter. The poor innocent! The way she was holding that head was an + illumination. With a reassuring smile—an effort, for his lips were + puffed and burning—he knelt and put his hand on Hawksley's heart. + </p> + <p> + “Done in, Kitty; that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, no! He had nine lives, this chap, and only one of 'em missing to + date. But I had no right to let him come. I thought he was fairly fit, but + he wasn't. Saved my life, though. Kitty, your Johnny Two-Hawks is a real + man; how real I did not know until to-night. He has earned his American + citizenship. Fights like he fiddles—on all four strings. All our + troubles are at an end; so buck up.” + </p> + <p> + “Alive? He is alive?” + </p> + <p> + The wild joy in her voice! “Yes, ma'am; and we two can regularly thank him + for being alive also. That lunge gave me my chance. He's only stunned. + Perhaps he'll need a nurse again. Anyhow, he'll be coming round in a + minute or two. I'll wager the first thing he does is to smile. I should.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Kitty grew strangely shy. She became conscious of her anomalous + position. She had promised to marry Cutty, promised herself that she would + be his true wife—and here she was, holding another man's head to her + heart as if it were the most precious head in all the world. She could not + put that head upon the floor at once; that would be a confession of her + embarrassment; and yet she could not continue to hold Hawksley while Cutty + eyed her with semi-humorous concern. Cutty was merciful, however. “Let me + hold him while you make a pillow out of your coat.” After he had laid + Hawksley's head on the coat he said: “He'll come about quicker this way. + We've had some excitement, haven't we?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any more, Cutty; never any more. I've been a silly, romantic + fool!” + </p> + <p> + “Not silly, only glorious.” + </p> + <p> + “Your poor face!” + </p> + <p> + “Banged up? Well, honestly, it feels as it looks, Kitty, this chap was + going to give himself up in exchange for you. Not a word of protest, not a + question. All he said was: 'I am ready.' That's why I'm always going to be + on his side.” + </p> + <p> + “He did that—for me?” + </p> + <p> + “For you. Did it never occur to you that you're the sort folks always want + to do things for if you'll let them?” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Cutty!” + </p> + <p> + “He's always blessing me, Kitty. He blessed me with your mother's + friendship, now yours. Kitty, I'm going to jilt you.” + </p> + <p> + “Jilt me?”—her heart leaping. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am. We can't go through with that mummery. We aren't built that + way. I'll figure it out in some other fashion. But marriage is a sacred + contract; and this farce would have left a scar on your honest mind. You'd + have to tell some man. Your kind can't go through life without being + loved. Would he understand? I wonder. He'll be human or you wouldn't fall + in love with him; and always he'll be pondering and bedevilling himself + with queer ideas—because he'll be human. Of course there's a + loophole—you can sue me for breach of promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Cutty; don't laugh! You're one of those men they call + Greathearts. And now I'm going to tell you something. It wasn't going to + be a farce. I intended to become your true wife, Cutty, make you as happy + as I could.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty patted her hand and got up. Lord, how bruised and sore his old body + was!... His true wife! She might have been his if he had not missed that + train. But for this hour, hot with life, she might never have discovered + that she loved Hawksley. His true wife! Ah, she would have been all of + that—Molly's girl! + </p> + <p> + “Will you mind waiting here until I see where old Stefani Gregor is?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Kitty, dreamily. + </p> + <p> + Cutty limped to the door. Outside he leaned against the partition. Done + in, body and soul. Always opening the gates of paradise for somebody + else... His true wife! Slowly he descended the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Alone, Kitty smoothed back the dank hair from Hawksley's brow, which she + kissed. Benediction and good-bye. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + Because it was assumed that some of Karlov's pack might be at large and + unsuspectingly return to the trap, Federal agents would remain on guard + all night. They explored the house, hunting for chemicals, documents, + letters, and addresses. They found enough high explosive to blow up the + district. And they found Stefani Gregor. They were standing by the cot as + Cutty came in. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Just this minute went out.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he speak?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman's name.” + </p> + <p> + “Rosa?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Looks to me as if he had been starved to death. Know who he + was?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Tell the coroner to be gentle. Once upon a time Stefani Gregor spoke + to kings by right of genius.” + </p> + <p> + The thought that he himself might have been the indirect cause of Gregor's + death shocked Cutty, who was above all things tender. + </p> + <p> + He had held back the raid for several days, to serve his own ends. He + could have ordered the raid from Washington, and it would have gone + through as smoothly as to-night. The drums of jeopardy. Well, that phase + of the game was done with. He had held up this raid so that he might be on + hand to search Karlov; and until now he had forgotten the drums. Accurst! + They were accurst. The death of Stefani Gregor would always be on his + conscience. + </p> + <p> + Cutty stared—not very clearly—at the cameo-like face so + beautifully calm. As in life, so it was in death; the calm that had + brooked and beaten down the turbulent instincts of the boy, the + imperturbable calm of a great soul. Rosa. The sublime unselfishness of the + man! He had sacrificed wealth and fame for the love of the boy's mother—unspoken, + unrequited love, the quality that passes understanding. And his reward: to + die on this cot, in horrid loneliness. Rosa. + </p> + <p> + All at once Cutty felt himself little, trivial, beside this forlorn bier. + What did he know about love? He had never made any sacrifices; he had + simply carried in his heart a bittersweet recollection. But here! + Twenty-odd years of unremitting devotion to the son of the woman he had + loved—Stefani Gregor. Creating environments that would develop the + noble qualities in the boy, interposing himself between the boy and the + evil pleasures of the uncle, teaching him the beautiful, cleansing his + soul of the inherited mud. Reverently Cutty drew the coverlet over the + fine old head. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” asked one of the operatives. “Looks like the pieces of a + broken fiddle.” + </p> + <p> + Out of those dark red bits of wood—some of them bearing the imprints + of hobnails—Cutty constructed the scene. A wave of bitter rage + rolled over him. The beast! Karlov had done this thing, with poor old + Gregor looking on, too weak to intervene. Not so many years ago these bits + of wood, under the master's touch, had entranced the souls of thousands. + Cutty recalled a fairy tale he had read when a boy about a prince whose + soul had been transformed into a flower which, if plucked or broken, died. + Karlov had murdered Stefani Gregor, perhaps not legally but actually + nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + Rehabilitated in soul, Cutty left the room. He had read a compelling + lesson in self-sacrifice. He was going to pick up his cross and go on with + it, smiling. After all, Kitty was only an interlude; the big thing was the + game; and shortly he would be in the thick of great events again. But + Kitty should be happy. + </p> + <p> + His old analytical philosophy resumed its functions. The contempt and + jealousy of one race for another; what was God's idea in implanting that + in souls? Hawksley was at base Russian. The boy's English education, his + adopted outlook upon life, made it possible for Cutty to ignore the racial + antagonism of the Anglo-Saxon for all other races. Stefani Gregor at one + end of the world and he at the other, blindly working out the destinies of + Kitty Conover and Ivan Mikhail Feodorovich and so forth and so on, with + the blood of Catharine in his veins! Made a chap dizzy to think of it. + Traditions were piling up along with crowns and sceptres in the abyss. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to the attic he felt himself fortified against any + inevitability. Hawksley was sitting up, his back to the wall, staring + groggily but with reckless adoration into Kitty's lovely face. Youth will + be served. As if, watching these two, there could be any doubt of it! And + he had bent part of his energies toward keeping them separated. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he cried, cheerfully. “Back on top again, I see. How's the head?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't any; no legs; I'm nothing at all but a bit of my own imagination. + How do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + “Like the aftermath of an Irish wake.” Then Cutty's battered face assumed + an expression that was meant to typify gravity. “John,” he aid, “I've bad + news for you.” + </p> + <p> + John. A glow went over the young man's aching body. John. What could that + signify except that he had passed into the eternal friendship of this old + thoroughbred? John. + </p> + <p> + “About Stefani?” + </p> + <p> + “Stefani is dead. He died speaking your mother's name.” + </p> + <p> + Hawksley's head sank; his chin touched his chest. He spoke without looking + up. “Something told me I would never see him alive again. Old Stefani! If + there is any good in me it will be his handiwork. I say,” he added, his + eyes now seeking Cutty's, “you called me John. Will you carry on?” + </p> + <p> + “Keep an eye on you? So long as you may need me.” + </p> + <p> + “I come from a lawless race. Stefani had to fight. Even now I'm afraid + sometimes. God knows I want to be all he tried to make me.” + </p> + <p> + “You're all right, John. You've reached haven; the storms hereafter will + be outside. Besides, Stefani will always be with you. You'll never pick up + that old Amati without feeling Stefani near. Can you stand?” + </p> + <p> + “Between the two of you, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + With Kitty on one side and Cutty on the other Hawksley managed the descent + tolerably well. Often a foot dragged. How strong she was, this girl! No + hysterics, no confusion, after all that racket, with death—or + something worse—reaching out toward her; calmly telling him that + there was another step, warning him not to bear too heavily on Cutty! + Holding him up physically and morally, these two, now all he had in life + to care for. Yesterday, unknown to him; this night, bound by hoops of + steel. The girl had forgiven him; he knew it by the touch of her arm.... + Old Stefani! A sob escaped him. Their arms tightened. + </p> + <p> + “No; I was thinking of Stefani. Rather hard—to die all alone—because + he loved me.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty longed to be alone. There were still many unshed tears—some + for Cutty, some for Stefani Gregor, some for Johnny Two-Hawks, and some + for herself. + </p> + <p> + In the limousine Cutty sat in the middle, Kitty on his left and Hawksley + on his right, his arms round them both. Presently Hawksley's head touched + his shoulder and rested there; a little later Kitty did likewise. His + children! Lord, he was going to have a tremendous interest in life, after + all! He smiled with kindly irony at the back of the chauffeur. His + children, these two; and he knew as he planned their future that they were + thinking over and round but not of him, which is the way of youth. + </p> + <p> + At the apartment Cutty decided to let Hawksley sit in an easy chair in the + living room until Captain Harrison arrived. Kuroki was ordered to prepare + a supper, which would be served on the tea cart, set at Hawksley's knees. + Kitty—because it was impossible for her to remain inactive—set + the linen and silver. She was in and out of the room, ill at ease, angry, + frightened, bitter, avoiding Hawksley's imploring eyes because she was not + sure of her own. + </p> + <p> + She was sure of one thing, however. All the nonsense was out of her head. + To-morrow she would be returning to the regular job. She would have a page + from the Arabian Nights to look upon in the days to come. She understood, + though it twisted her heart dreadfully: she was in the eyes of this man a + plaything, a pretty woman he had met in passing. If she had saved his life + he had in turn saved hers; they were quits. She did not blame him for his + point of view. He had come from the top of the world, where women were + either ornaments or playthings, while she and hers had always struggled to + maintain equilibrium in the middle stratum. Cutty could give him + friendship; but she could not because she was a woman, young and pretty. + </p> + <p> + Love him? Well, she would get over it. It might be only the glamour of the + adventure they had shared. Anyhow, she wouldn't die of it. Cutty hadn't. + Of course it hurt; she was a silly little fool, and all that. Once he was + in Montana he would be sending for his Olga. There wasn't the least doubt + in her mind that if ever autocracy returned to power, he'd be casting + aside his American citizenship, his chaps and sombrero, for the old + regalia. Well—truculently to the world at large—why not? + </p> + <p> + So she avoided Hawksley's gaze, sensing the sustained persistence of it. + But, oh, to be alone, alone, alone! + </p> + <p> + Cutty washed the patient's hands and face and patched up the cut on the + cheek, interlarding his chatter with trench idioms, banter, jokes. + Underneath, though, he was chuckling. He was the hero of this tale; he had + done all the thrilling stunts, carried limp bodies across fire escapes in + the rain, climbed roofs, eluded newspaper reporters, fought with his bare + fists, rescued the girl.... All with one foot in the grave! Fifty-two, + gray haired—with a prospect of rheumatism on the morrow—and + putting it over like a debonair movie idol! + </p> + <p> + Hawksley met these pleasantries halfway by grousing about being babied + when there was nothing the matter with him but his head, his body, and his + legs. + </p> + <p> + Why didn't she look at him? What was the meaning of this persistent + avoidance? She must have forgiven last night. She was too much of a + thoroughbred to harbour ill feeling over that. Why didn't she look at him? + </p> + <p> + The telephone called Cutty from the room. + </p> + <p> + Kitty went into the dining room for an extra pair of salt cellars and + delayed her return until she heard Cutty coming back. + </p> + <p> + “Karlov is dead,” he announced. “Started a fight in the taxi, got out, and + was making for safety when one of the boys shot him. He hadn't the jewels + on him, John. I'm afraid they are gone, unless he hid them somewhere in + that—What's the matter, Kitty?” + </p> + <p> + For Kitty had dropped the salt cellars and pressed her hands against her + bosom, her face colourless. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley, terrified, tried to get up. + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Nothing is the matter with me but my head.... To think I could + forget! Good—heavens!” She prolonged the words drolly. “Wait.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her back to them. When she faced them again she extended a palm + upon which lay a leather tobacco pouch, cracked and parched and blistered + by the reactions of rain and sun. + </p> + <p> + “Think of my forgetting them! I found them this morning. Where do you + suppose? On a step of the fire-escape ladder.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be tinker-dammed!” said Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “I've reasoned it out,” went on Kitty, breathlessly, looking at Cutty, + “When the anarchist tore them from Mr. Hawksley's neck, he threw them out + of the window. The room was dark; his companion could not see. Later he + intended, no doubt, to go into the court and recover them and cheat his + master. I was looking out of the window, when I noticed a brilliant flash + of purple, then another of green. The pouch was open, the stones about to + trickle out. I dared not leave them in the apartment or tell anybody until + you came home. So I carried them with me to the office. The drums, Cutty! + The drums! Tumpitum-tump! Look!” + </p> + <p> + She poured the stones upon the white linen tablecloth. A thousand fires! + </p> + <p> + “The wonderful things!” she gasped. “Oh, the wonderful things! I don't + blame you, Cutty. They would tempt an angel. The drums of jeopardy; and + that I should find them!” + </p> + <p> + “Lord!” said Cutty, in an awed whisper. Green stones! The magnificent + rubies and sapphires and diamonds vanished; he could see nothing but the + exquisite emeralds. He picked up one—still warm with Kitty's pulsing + life—and toyed with it. Actually, the drums! And all this time they + had been inviting the first comer to appropriate them. Money, love, + tragedy, death; history, pageants, lovely women; murder and loot! All + these days on the step of the fire-escape ladder! He must have one of + them; positively he must. Could he prevail upon Hawksley to sell one? Had + he carried them through sentiment? + </p> + <p> + He turned to broach the suggestion of purchase, but remained mute. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley's head was sunk upon his chest; his arms hung limply at the sides + of his chair. + </p> + <p> + “He is fainting!” cried Kitty, her love outweighing her resolves. “Cutty!”—desperately, + fearing to touch Hawksley herself. + </p> + <p> + “No! The stones, the stones! Take them away—out of sight! I'm too + done in! I can't stand it! I can't—The Red Night! Torches and + hobnailed boots!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + Her fingers seemingly all thumbs, her heart swelling with misery and + loneliness, wanting to go to him but fearing she would be misunderstood, + Kitty scooped up the dazzling stones and poured them hastily into the + tobacco pouch, which she thrust into Cutty's hands. What she had heard was + not the cry of a disordered brain. There was some clear reason for the + horror in Hawksley's tones. What tragedy lay behind these wonderful prisms + of colour that the legitimate owner could not look upon them without being + stirred in this manner? + </p> + <p> + “Take them into the study,” urged Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” interposed Hawksley. “I give one of the emeralds to you, Cutty. + They came out of hell—if you want to risk it! The other is for Miss + Conover, with Mister Hawksley's compliments.” He was looking at Kitty now, + his face drawn, his eyes bloodshot. “Don't be apprehensive. They bring + evil only to men. With one in your possession you will be happy ever + after, as the saying goes. Oh, they are mine to give; mine by right of + inheritance. God knows I paid for them!” + </p> + <p> + “If I said Mister—” began Kitty, her brain confused, her tongue + clumsy. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't forgiven!” he interrupted. “A thoroughbred like you, to hold + last night against me! Mister—after what we two have shared + together! Why didn't you leave me there to die?” + </p> + <p> + Cutty observed that the drama had resolved itself into two characters; he + had been relegated to the scenes. He tiptoed toward his study door, and as + he slipped inside he knew that Gethsemane was not an orchard but a + condition of the mind. He tossed the pouch on his desk, eyed it + ironically, and sat down. His, one of them—one of those marvellous + emeralds was his! He interlaced his fingers and rested his brow upon them. + He was very tired. + </p> + <p> + Kitty missed him only when she heard the latch snap. + </p> + <p> + She was alone with Hawksley; and all her terror returned. Not to touch + him, not to console him; to stand staring at him like a dumb thing! + </p> + <p> + “I do forgive—Johnny! But your world and my world—” + </p> + <p> + “Those stains! The wretches hurt you!” + </p> + <p> + “What? Where?”—bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “The blood on your waist!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty looked down. “That is not my blood, Johnny. It is yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine?” Johnny. Something in the way she said it. “Mine?”—trying to + solve the riddle. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It is where your cheek rested when—I thought you were dead.” + </p> + <p> + The sense of misery, of oppression, of terror, all fell away miraculously, + leaving only the flower of glory. She would be his plaything if he wanted + her. + </p> + <p> + Silence. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, I came out of a dark world—to find you. I loved you the + moment I entered your kitchen that night. But I did not know it. I loved + you the night you brought the wallet. Still I did not understand. It was + when I heard the lift door and knew you had gone forever that I + understood. Loved you with all my heart, with all that poor old Stefani + had fashioned out of muck and clay. If you held my head to your heart, if + that is my blood there—Do you, can you care a little?” + </p> + <p> + “I can and do care very much, Johnny.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice to his ears was like the G string of the Amati. “Will you go + with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere. But you are a prince of some great Russian house, Johnny, and I + am nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “What am I, Kitty? Less than nobody—a homeless outcast, with only + you and Cutty. An American! Well, when I'm that it will be different; I'll + be somebody. God forgive me if I do not give it absolute loyalty, this new + country!... Never call me anything but Johnny.” + </p> + <p> + “Johnny.” Anywhere, whatever he willed her to be. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a child, Kitty. I want to grow up—if I can—to be an + American, something like that ripping old thoroughbred yonder.” + </p> + <p> + Cutty! Johnny wanted to be something like Cutty. Johnny would have to grow + up to be his own true self; for nobody could ever be like Cutty. He was as + high and far away from the average man as this apartment was from hers. + Would he understand her attitude? Could she say anything until it would be + too late for him to interfere? She was this man's woman. She would have + her span of happiness, come ill, come good, even if it hurt Cutty, whom + she loved in another fashion. But for Johnny dropping through that trap + she might never have really known, married Cutty, and been happy. Happy + until one or the other died; never gloriously, never furiously, but mildly + happy; perhaps understanding each other far better than Johnny and she + would understand each other. The average woman's lot. But to give her + heart, her mind, her body in a whirlwind of emotions, absolute surrender, + to know for once the highest state of exaltation—to love! + </p> + <p> + All this tender exchange with half a dozen feet between them. Kitty had + not stirred from the far side of the tea cart, and he had not opened his + arms. She had given herself with magnificent abandon; for the present that + satisfied her instincts. As for him, he was not quite sure this miracle + might not be a dream, and one false move might cause her to vanish. + </p> + <p> + “Johnny, who is Olga?” The question was irrepressible. Perhaps it was the + last shred of caution binding her. All of him or none of him. There must + be no other woman intervening. + </p> + <p> + Hawksley stiffened in his chair. His hands closed convulsively and his + eyes lost their brightness. “Johnny?” Kitty ran round the tea cart. “What + is it?” She knelt beside the chair, alarmed, for the horror had returned + to his face. “What did they do to you back there?” She clasped one of his + hands tensely in hers. + </p> + <p> + “In my dreams at night!” he said, staring into space. “I could run away + from my pursuers, but I could not run away from my dreams! Torches and + hobnailed boots!... They trampled on her; and I, up there in the gallery + with those damned emeralds in my hands! Ah, if I hadn't gone for them, if + I hadn't thought of the extra comforts their sale would bring! There would + have been time then, Kitty. I had all the other jewels in the pouch. + Horses were ready for us to flee on, loyal servants ready to help us; but + I thought of the drums. A few more worldly comforts—with hell + forcing in the doors! + </p> + <p> + “I didn't tell her where I was going. When I came back it was to see her + die! They saw me, and yelled. I ran away. I hadn't the courage to go down + there and die with her! She thought I was in that hell pit. She went down + there to die with me and died horribly, alone! Ah, if I could only shut it + out, forget! Olga, my tender young sister, Kitty, the last one of my race + I could love. And I ran away like a yellow dog, like a yellow dog! I don't + know where her grave is, and I could not seek it if I did! I dared not + write Stefani; tell him I had seen Olga go down under Karlov's heels, and + then ran away!... Day by day to feel those stones against my heart!” + </p> + <p> + Nothing is more terrible to a woman than the sight of a brave man weeping. + For she knew that he was brave. The sudden recollection of the emeralds; a + little more comfort for himself and sister if they were permitted to + escape. Not a cowardly instinct, not even a greedy one; a normal desire to + fortify them additionally against an unknown future, and he had + surrendered to it impulsively, without explaining to Olga where he was + going. + </p> + <p> + “Johnny, Johnny, you mustn't!” She sprang up, seizing his head and wildly + kissing him. “You mustn't! God understands, and Olga. Oh, you mustn't sob + like that! You are tearing my heart to pieces!” + </p> + <p> + “I ran away like a yellow dog! I didn't go down there and die with her!” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't run away to-night when you offered your life for my liberty. + Johnny, you mustn't!” + </p> + <p> + Under her tender ministrations the sobs began to die away and soon + resolved into little catching gasps. He was weak and spent from his + injuries; otherwise he would not have given way like this, discovered to + her what she had not known before, that in every man, however strong and + valiant he may be, there is a little child. + </p> + <p> + “It has been burning me up, Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know! It is because you have a soul full of beautiful things, + Johnny. God held you back from dying with Olga because He knew I needed + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You will marry me, knowing that I did this thing?” + </p> + <p> + Marry him! A door to some blinding radiance opened, and she could not see + for a little while. Marry him! What a miserable wretch she was to think + that he would want her otherwise! Johnny Two-Hawks, fiddling in front of + the Metropolitan Opera House, to fill a poor blind man's cup! + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Johnny. Now, yesterdays never were. For us there is nothing but + to-morrows. Out there, in the great country—where souls as well as + bodies may stretch themselves—we'll start all over again. You will + be the cowman and I'll be the kitchen wench. As in the beginning, so it + will always be hereafter, I'll cook your bacon and eggs.” + </p> + <p> + She pulled his chair round and pushed it toward a window, dropped beside + it and laid her cheek against his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Let us look at the stars, Johnny. They know.” Kuroki, having arrived with + coffee and sandwiches, paused on the threshold, gazed, wheeled right about + face, and returned to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + By and by Kitty looked up into Hawksley's face. He was asleep. She got up + carefully, lightly kissed the top of his head—the old wound—and + crossed to Cutty's door. She must tell dear old Cutty of the wonderful + happiness that was going to be hers. She opened the study door, but did + not enter at once. Asleep on his arms. Why, he hadn't even opened that Ali + Baba's bag! Tired out—done in, as Johnny Two-Hawks called it in his + English fashion. She waited; but as he did not stir she approached with + noiseless step. The light poured full upon his head. How gray he was! A + boundless pity surged over her that this tender, valiant knight should + have missed what first her mother had known—now she herself—requited + love. To have everything in the world without that was to have nothing. + She would not wake him; she would let him sleep until Captain Harrison + came. Lightly she touched the gray head with her lips and stole from the + study. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Molly, Molly!” Cutty whispered into his rigid fingers. + </p> + <p> + And so they were married, in the apartment, at the top of the world, on a + May night thick with stars. It was not a wedding; it was a marriage. The + world never knew because it was none of the world's business. Who was + Kitty Conover? A nobody. Who was John Hawksley? Something to be. + </p> + <p> + Out of the storm into the calm; which is something of a reversal. + Generally in love affairs happiness is found in the approach to the + marriage contract; the disillusions come afterward. It was therefore + logical that Kitty and her lover should be happy, as they had run the + gamut of test and fire beforehand. + </p> + <p> + The young people were to leave for the West soon after the supper for + three. At midnight Cutty's ship would be boring down the bay. Did Kitty + regret, even a little, the rice and old shoes, the bridesmaids and cake, + so dear to the female of the species? She did not. Did she think + occasionally of the splendour of the title that was hers? She did. To her + mind Mrs. John Hawksley was incomparably above and beyond anything in that + Bible of autocracy—the Almanach de Gotha. + </p> + <p> + After supper Cutty brought in the old Amati. + </p> + <p> + “Play,” he said, lighting his pipe. + </p> + <p> + So Hawksley played—played as he never had played before and perhaps + as he would never play again. We reach zenith sometimes, but we never stay + there. But he was not playing to Cutty. Slate-blue eyes, two books with + endless pages, the soul of this wife of his. He had come through. The + miracle had been accomplished. Love. + </p> + <p> + Kitty smiled and smiled, the doors of her soul thrown wide to absorb this + magic message. Love. + </p> + <p> + Cutty smoked on, with his eyes closed. He heard it, too. Love. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, sighing, “I see innovations out there in Montana. The + round-up will be different. The Pied Fiddler of Bar-K will stand in the + corral and fiddle, and the bossies will come galloping in, two by two—and + a few jackrabbits!” He laughed. “John, the Amati is yours conditionally. + If after one year it is not reclaimed it becomes yours automatically. My + wedding present. Remember, next winter, if God wills, you'll come and + visit me.” + </p> + <p> + “As if we could forget!” cried Kitty, embracing Cutty, who accepted the + embrace stoically. “I'll be needing clothes, and Johnny will have to have + his hair cut. Oh, Cutty, I'm so foolishly happy!” + </p> + <p> + “Time we started for the choo-choo. Time-tables have no souls. But, Lord, + what a racket we've had!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, rather!”—from Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, listen to me. Out there you must remember that 'bally' and 'ripping' + and 'rather' are premeditated insults. Gee-whiz! but I'd like a look-see + when you say to your rough-and-readies: 'Bally rotten weather. What?' + They'll shoot you up.” + </p> + <p> + More banter; which fooled none of the three, as each understood the other + perfectly. The hour of separation was at hand, and they were fortifying + their courage. + </p> + <p> + “Funny old top,” was Hawksley's comment as they stood before the train + gate. “Three months gone we were strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “And now—” began Cutty. + </p> + <p> + “With hoops of steel!” interrupted Kitty. “You must write, Cutty, and + Johnny and I will be prompt.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll get one from the Azores.” + </p> + <p> + “Train going west!” + </p> + <p> + “Good luck, children!” Cutty pressed Hawksley's hand and pecked at Kitty's + cheek. “Shan't go through with you to the car. Kuroki is waiting. + Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + The redcaps seized the luggage, and Hawksley and his bride followed them + through the gate. Because he was tall Cutty could see them until they + reached the bumper. Funny old world, for a fact. Next time they met the + wounds would be healed—Hawksley's head and old Cutty's heart. Queer + how he felt his fifty-two. He began to recognize one of the truths that + had passed by: One did not sense age if one ran with the familiar pack. + But for an old-timer to jog along for a few weeks with youth! That was it—the + youth of these two had knocked his conceit into a cocked hat. + </p> + <p> + “Poor dear old Cutty!” said Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Old thoroughbred!” said Hawksley. + </p> + <p> + And there you were, relegated to the bracket where the family kept the + kaleidoscope, the sea-shell, and the album. His children, though; from now + on he would have that interest in life. The blessed infant—Molly's + girl—taking a sunbonnet when she might have worn a tiara! And that + boy, stepping down from the pomp of palaces to the dusty ranges of Bar-K. + An American citizen. It was more than funny, this old top; it was stark + raving mad. + </p> + <p> + Well, he had one of the drums. It reposed in his wallet. Another queer + thing, he could not work up a bit of the old enthusiasm. It was only a + green stone. One of the finest examples of the emerald known, and he could + not conjure up the panorama of murder and loot behind it. Possibly because + he was no longer detached; the stone had entered his own life and touched + it with tragedy. For it was tragedy to be fifty-two and to realize it. + Thus whenever he took out the emerald he found his imagination walled in. + Besides, it was a kind of magic mirror; he saw always his own tentative + villainy. He was not quite the honest man he had once been. + </p> + <p> + But what was happening down the line there? The passengers were making way + for someone. Kitty, and racing back to the gate! She did not pause until + she stood in front of him, breathless. + </p> + <p> + “Forget something?” he asked, awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + “Uh-hm!” Suddenly she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him. “If + only the three of us could be always together! Take care of yourself. + Johnny and I need you.” Then she caught his hand, gave it a pressure, and + was off again. Cutty stood there, staring blindly in her direction. Old + Stefani Gregor; sacrifice. By and by he became conscious of something warm + and hard in his palm. He looked down. + </p> + <p> + A green stone, green as the turban of a Mecca pilgrim, green as the eye of + a black panther in the thicket. He dropped the emerald into a vest pocket + and fumbled round for his pipe—always his mental crutch. He lit it + and marched out of the station into the night—chuckling + sardonically. For the second time the thought occurred to him: Of all his + earthly possessions he would carry into the Beyond—a chuckle. + </p> + <p> + Molly, then Kitty; but the drums of jeopardy were his! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Drums Of Jeopardy, by Harold MacGrath + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DRUMS OF JEOPARDY *** + +***** This file should be named 1913-h.htm or 1913-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/1/1913/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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