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diff --git a/old/jprdy10.txt b/old/jprdy10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..864c13c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/jprdy10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11121 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext The Drums Of Jeopardy by Harold MacGrath + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Meantime, the other man reached into the taxicab and awoke the +sleeping chauffeur. + +"A hotel," he said. + +"Which one?" + +"Any one will do." + +"Yes, sir. Two dollars." + +"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! + +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. + +"Thank you, sir." + +"You are an American?" + +"Sure! I was born in this burg." + +"Like the idea?" + +"Huh?" + +"The idea of being an American?" + +"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!" + +Grinning, the chauffeur threw on the power and wheeled away into +the fog. + +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. + +"A room with a bath, if you please; second flight. Have the man +call me at seven." + +"Yes, sir. Here, boy!" + +Sleepily the bellboy lifted the battered kitbag and led the way to +the elevator. + +"Bawth!" said the night clerk, as the elevator door slithered to +the latch. "Bawth! The old dear!" + +He returned to his chair, hoping that he would not be disturbed +again until he was relieved. + +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! + +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. + +"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!" + +"Ye-ah!" + +"Take a peek at this John Hancock." + +"Gee! That must be the guy who makes that drugstore drink - Boolzac." + +The clerk swung out, but missed the boy's head by a hair. The boy +stood off, grinning. + +"Well, you ast me!" + +"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. + +"Want me t' git a pillow for yuh?" + +"No back talk!" - drowsily. + +"Oh! boy, but I got one on you!" + +"What?" + +"This Boolzac guy didn't have no baggage, and yuh give 'im the key +without little ol' three-per in advance." + +"No grip?" + +"Nix. Not a toot'brush in sight." + +"Well, the damage is done. I might as well go to sleep." + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +He would soon have their equivalent in money - money that would bring +back no terrible recollections. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +>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. + +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. + +Then he hid it in the lining of his coat, there being a convenient +rent in the inside pocket. + +"I must not think!" he murmured. "I must not!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +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. + +"Lave a call?" + +"No. I thought I'd put you wise. I didn't notice that the man had +no grip until he was in the elevator." + +"All right. I'll send the bell-hop captain up with a fake call to +see if the man's still there." + +When the captain - late of the A.E.F. in France - returned to the +office he was mildly excited. + +"Gee, there's been a whale of a scrap in Room 212. The chambermaid +let me in." + +"Murder?" whispered the clerks in unison. + +"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." + +It was a case of blue velours. The boy threw back the lid +dramatically. + +"War medals?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I thought the war was over," said the night clerk. + +"The shootin' is over, that's all," said the captain of the bellboys, +sagely. + +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! + +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. Bank 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Some of his blows got home, but these provoked only sardonic laughter. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +CHAPTER m + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Five-cent pieces!" + +"Will you take them with you or shall I send them?" asked the girl, +earnestly. + +"I beg pardon!" + +"Any particular kind of ribbon you want the box tied with?" + +"I beg your pardon!" repeated Hawksley, harried and bewildered. +"But I'm in a hurry - " + +"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." + +"A thousand apologies!" - contritely. + +"And don't make it any worse by suggesting a movie after supper. +My mother never lets me go out after dark." + +"I rather fancy she's quite sensible. Still, you seem able to +take care of yourself. I might suggest -" + +"With that black eye? Nay, nay! I'll bet somebody's brother gave +it to you." + +"Venus was not on that occasion in ascendancy. Thank you for the +change." Hawksley swung on his heel and reentered the booth. + +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. + +"Hello!" said a man's voice over the wire. + +"Is Mr. Rathbone there?" + +"Captain Rathbone is with his regiment at Coblenz, sir." + +"Coblenz?" + +"Yes, sir. I do not expect his return until near midsummer, sir. +Who is this talking?" + +"Have you opened a cable from Yokohama?" + +"This is Mr. Hawksley!" The voice became excited. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +"Just a moment, sir. I may have an important cable to transmit to +you. It would be wise to leave me your address, sir." + +Hawksley hesitated a moment. After all, he could trust this perfect +old servant, whom he remembered. He gave the address. + +As he came out of the booth the girl stretched forth an arm to +detain him. He stopped. + +"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." + +"Give me a dozen of those roses there." She sold flowers also. +"The pink ones. How much?" he asked. + +"Two-fifty." + +He laid down the money. "Never mind the box. They are for you. +Good evening." + +The girl stared at the flowers as Ali Baba must have stared at the +cask with rubies. + +"For me!" she whispered. "For nothing!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +"Stefani Gregor?" he called, joyously. "Stefani, my old friend, it +is I!" + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + 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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But no. The door opened and an iron-gray head intruded. + +"Will I be in the way?" + +"Lord, no!" cried Burlingame, throwing down his proofs. "Come along +in, Cutty." + +The great war correspondent came in and sat down, sighing gratefully. + +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. + +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. + +Kitty considerately rose and gathered up her manuscript. + +"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?" + +"Good gracious!" + +"Fact. I told your dad I'd watch over you." + +"And a fat lot of watching you've done to date," jeered Burlingame. + +"Couldn't help that. But I can be on the job until I return to the +Balkans." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Well, anyhow," said Burlingame, complacently, "the war is over. + +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?" + +"Wow!" cried Burlingame. + +"Not at all," answered Kitty. "I don't see how any pipe could be +worse than Mr. Burlingame's." + +"I apologize," said the dramatic editor, humbly. + +"You needn't," replied the girl. She turned to the war correspondent. +"Any new drums?" + +"I remember that day. You were scared half to death at my walls." + +"Small wonder! I was only twelve; and I dreamed of cannibals for +weeks." + +"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!" + +"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! + +"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. + +"Br-r-r!" cried Burlingame. + +"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." + +"But the drums of jeopardy!" said Kitty. + +"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." + +"And I've always thought of you as Cutty. Fifty-fifty." + +"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." + +"Have one?" said Kitty. + +"No. Spoil the taste of the pipe." + +"You ought to spoil that taste once in a while," was Burlingame's +observation. "But go on." + +"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." + +"You old pirate!" said Burlingame. + +"But why the word jeopardy?" persisted Kitty, who was intrigued by +the phrase. + +"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." + +Burlingame sniffed. + +"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." + +"An old hard-boiled egg like you?" Burlingame threw up his hands +in mock despair. + +"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. lt 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." + +"And this palace?" asked Kitty. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"Gladly." + +"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." + +"The drums of jeopardy; what a haunting phrase!" + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +An interruption came in the form of one of the office boys. The +chief was on the wire and wanted Cutty at once. + +"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." + +"There's your chance, Kitty," said Burlingame. + +"Am I beautiful?" asked Kitty, demurely. + +"Lord love the minx!" shouted Cutty. "A corner in Mouquin's." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Except on the third finger of a lady's left hand; and then they +are just perfectly splendid!" + +"Oho! Well, when you get yours I hope it's as big as the +Koh-i-noor." + +"Thank you! You might just as well wish a brick on me!" + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + DEAR MISS CONOVER: + If anything should happen to me all the things in my apartment + I give to you without reservation. + STEPHEN GREGORY. + +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! + +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. + +Tableau! + + + +CHAPTER V + + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +She plucked it out of the drawer and walked bravely to the window, +which she threw up. + +"What do you want? What are you doing out there on the fire escape?" +she instantly demanded to know. + +"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?" + +"Why didn't you come to the door then? What window?" Kitty was +resolute; once she embarked upon an enterprise. + +"That one." + +"Where is Mr. Gregory?" Kitty recalled that odd letter. + +"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." + +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?" + +"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." + +"Indeed! Describe Mr. Gregory." + +Not of the clinging kind, evidently, he thought. A raving beauty + - Diana domesticated! + +"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." + +"Was? What do you mean?" + +"I'm afraid something has happened to him. I found his bedroom +things tossed about." + +"What could possibly happen to a harmless old man like Mr. Gregory?" + +"Pardon me, but your egg is burning !" + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"Please do not be afraid of me. + +"What makes you think I am?" + +"Any woman would be." + +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? + +"Thank you," he said, setting down the empty milk bottle. + +"Your accent is English." + +"Which is to say?" + +"That your gestures are Italian." + +"My mother was Italian. But what makes you believe I am not English?" + +"An Englishman - or an American, for that matter - with money in +his pocket would have gone into the street in search of a restaurant." + +"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." + +"A fugitive, however, of any blood might have come to my window." + +"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?" + +Kitty was impressed by the bitterness of the tone. "What is your +name?" + +"John Hawksley." + +"But that is English!" + +"I should not care to call myself Two-Hawks, literally. It would +be embarrassing. So I call myself Hawksley." + +A pause. Kitty wondered what new impetus she might give to the +conversation, which was interesting her despite her distrust. + +"How did you come by that black eye?" she asked with embarrassing +directness. + +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." + +"Moribund perspectives," repeated Kitty, casting the phrase about +in her mind in search of an equivalent less academic. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Fancy! I say, now, you're jolly plucky to face a scoundrel like +me with that." + +"I don't just know what to make of you," said Kitty, irresolutely, +flinging the fan into a corner. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"His name is Stefani Gregor; and years and years ago he dandled me +on his knees. I promise not to move until you return." + +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. + +"This is Miss Conover. Come up to my apartment in ten minutes.... + No; it's not the water pipes.... In ten minutes" + +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. + +"Read this," she said. + +The visitor glanced through it. "It is Gregor's hand. Poor old +chap! I shall never forgive my self." + +"For what?" + +"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?" + +"Yes." + +"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. + +"Nothing whatever." + +"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." + +"It is horrible!" cried Kitty. "Take it with you please. I could +not keep my eyes open to shoot it." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +And there was the mysterious evanishment of old Gregory, whose name +was Stefani Gregor. In a humdrum, prosaic old apartment like this! + +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? + +"Johnny Two-Hawks," she murmured aloud. "And he hopes we'll never +meet again!" + +There was a mirror over the sink, and she threw a glance into it. +Very well; if he thought like that about it. + +Here the doorbell tinkled. That would be the faithful janitor. She +ran to the door. + +"Whadjuh wanta see me about, Miz Conover?" + +"What has happened to old Mr. Gregory?" + +"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." + +"He'd been hurt?" + +"Couldn't say, miz. He was on a stretcher when I seen 'im. Under +a sheet." + +"But he might have been dead!" + +"Nope. I ast 'em, an' they said a shock of some sort." + +"What hospital?" + +"Gee, I forgot t'ast that!" + +"I'll find out. Good-night." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +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? + +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! + +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? + +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 we11 +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. + +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? + +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. + +A Japanese voice answered her call. + +"'Souse, but he iss out." + +"Where?" + +"No tell me." + +"How long has he been gone?" + +"'Scuse!" + +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. + +"Who is it?" Cutty spoke impatiently. + +"Kitty Conover." + +"Oh! What's the matter? Can't you have lunch with me?" + +"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?" + +"As soon as a taxi can take me!" + +"Thanks." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +On the floor lay poor Johnny Two-Hawks, crumpled grotesquely, a +streak of blood zigzagging across his forehead; to all appearances, +dead! + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +"What in the name of - " + +"Come! We'll handle this ourselves. Hurry!" She dragged him along +by the sleeve. + +"But - " + +"It is life and death! No talk now!" + +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. + +"Kitty, what the deuce is going on here?" + +"I'll answer your questions when we get him into my apartment. They +tried to murder him; left him there to die!" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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?" + +"When we get him to my apartment." + +"Yours? Good Lord, what's the matter with this?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Cutty, you're a dear. I don't wonder father loved you." + +Presently he turned away from the telephone. "He'll be here in a +jiffy. Now, then, what the deuce is all this about?" + +Briefly Kitty narrated the episodes. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Kitty came in with a basin and a roll of absorbent cotton. + +"He is groaning!" she whispered. + +"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." + +"Am I all alone?" - softly. + +"Well, no; come to think of it, I'm no longer your godfather in +theory. Give me the cotton and hold the basin." + +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. + +"Well, that's all I can do. Who was this tenant Gregory?" + +"A dear old man. A valet at a Broadway hotel. Oh, I forgot! +Johnny Two-Hawks called him Stefani Gregor." + +"Stefani Gregor?" + +"Yes. What is it? Why do you say it like that?" + +"Say it like what?" - sparring for time. + +"As if you had heard the name before?" + +"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." + +"Bolshevik?" + +"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. + +"But I don't believe it's going to be an annoyance. I'm terribly +interested, and want to see it through." + +"If he can be moved, out he goes. No arguments. He can't stay +in this apartment. That's final." + +"Exactly why not?" Kitty demanded, rebelliously. + +"Because I say so, Kitty." + +"Is Stefani Gregor an undesirable?" + +"You knew him. What do you say?" countered her godfather, evading +the trap. The innocent child! He smiled inwardly. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +"There goes the bell!" cried Kitty, jumping up. + +"Wait!" + +The ring was repeated vigorously and impatiently. + +"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." + +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. + +"What's going on here?" the policeman demanded to know. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Why didn't you call in the police?" + +"Because he might have died before you got here." + +"Where's the man who helped you?" + +"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. + +"Sounds all right," said the policeman. "I'll take a look at the +man." + +"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. + +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. + +"A fine bang on the coco," was the policeman's observation. "Take +anything out of his pockets?" + +"They were quite empty. I've sent for a military surgeon. He may +arrive at any moment." + +"This fellow live across the way?" + +"That's the odd part of it. No, he doesn't." + +"Then what was he doing there?" + +"Probably awaiting the return of the real tenant who hasn't returned +up to this hour" - with an oblique glance at the squat man. + +"Kind o' queer. Say, you stay here and watch the lady while I scout +round." + +The squat man nodded and leaned over the foot of the bed. The +policeman stalked out. + +"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. + +Again the squat man nodded. He appeared to be a good listener. + +"Where were you when we crossed the fire escape?" + +"In the yard on the other side of the fence." There was reluctance +in the guttural voice. + +"Oh, I see. You live there." + +As this was a supposition and not a direct query, the squat man +wagged his head affirmatively. + +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. + +"If he dies it will be murder." + +"It is a big city." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Is that legally necessary?" asked the squat man, rather perturbed. + +"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." + +"I see. Very well." + +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. + +"My name is Conover," said Kitty. + +"I got that coming in," replied the policeman. "We'll be on our +way." + +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. + +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! + +"And I thought you were gone! What did you say to that policeman?" + +"I hypnotized him, Kitty." + +"The newspaper?" + +"No. Just looked into his eye and made a few passes with my hands." + +"Of course, if you believe you ought not to tell me - " said Kitty, +which is the way all women start their wheedling. + +Cutty looked into the bowl of his pipe. + +"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?" + +"Yes. And this is a ripple from some big stone cast into the pond +of southeastern Europe. I understand." + +"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." + +"I'm afraid I can't afford to move until May." + +"I'll take care of that gladly, to get you out of this garlicky +ruin." + +"No, Cutty; I'm going to stay here until the lease is up." + +"Gee-whiz! The Irish are all alike," cried the war correspondent, +hopelessly. "Petticoat or pantaloon, always looking for trouble." + +"No, Cutty; simply we don't run away from it. And there's just as +much Irish in you as there is in me." + +"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." + +"And you left me because you' didn't know who might be at the door!" + +"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." + +"And Gregor and this poor young man are in some way mixed up with +internationalism!" + +"Victims, probably." + +"What is the other thing you wish to tell me?" + +"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." + +Kitty nodded. So that was it? Poor Cutty! + +"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!" + +"The poor things!" + +"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?" + +"I'm going to stay here, Cutty. That's final." + +Cutty sighed. + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +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! + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"There was nothing on him. We searched." + +"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!" + +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. + +"Unlock it for me and see that I am not disturbed." + +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. + +The squat man laid his bundle on the table and approached the +prisoner. + +"Stefani Gregor, look up; it is I!" He drummed on his chest like +a challenging gorilla. "I, Boris Karlov!" + +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. + +"Yes, it is Boris, whom you betrayed. But I escaped by a hair, +Stefani; and we meet again." + +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. + +"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!" + +A wintry little smile stirred the lips of the man in the chair. +America, with its keen perceptions of the ridiculous, its withering +humour! + +"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." + +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." + +"That breed?" + +"Why, you yourself loved him when he was a boy!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"I did not betray you. I only tried to save those who had been +kind to me." + +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." + +"That poor boy! So he brought them! What are you going to do with +me?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Boris!" The man in the chair writhed. + +"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!" + +"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!" + +"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!" + +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. + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Meanwhile ,Captain Harrison of the Medical Corps entered the +Conover apartment briskly. + +"You old vagabond, what have you been up to? I beg pardon!" - as +he saw Kitty emerge from behind Cutty's bulk. + +"This is Miss Conover, Harrison." + +"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." + +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?" + +"I suspect he's some political refugee. We don't know a thing about +him otherwise. How soon can he be moved?" + +"He ought to be moved at once and given the best of care." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Will he live?" asked Kitty. + +"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." + +"And ring three tunes when you return," advised Cutty. + +"All right. Did they try to strangle him or did he have something +round his neck?" + +"Hanged if I know." + +"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. + +Cutty spent a few minutes at the telephone, then he joined Kitty +in the living room. + +"Kitty, what was the stranger like?" + +"Like a gorilla. He spoke English as if he had a cold." + +Cutty scowled into space. "Have a scar over an eyebrow?" + +"Good gracious, I couldn't tell! Both his eyes were black and his +nose banged dreadfully. Johnny Two-Hawks probably did it." + +"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." + +"Listen!" she interrupted, taking hold of his sleeve. "Hear it?" + +"Only the Elevated." + +"Tumpitum-tump! Tumpitum-tump! Cutty, you hypnotized me this +afternoon with your horrid drums." + +"The emeralds?" He managed to repress the start. + +"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." + +"But the story goes that women are immune, Kitty." + +"Nonsense! No woman is immune where a wonderful gem is concerned. +And yet I've common sense and humour." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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? + +"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." + +"And what is that?" + +"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!" + +"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." + +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. + +"Why do you laugh?" + +"Oh, because - Hark!" + +The two of them ran to the bedroom door. + +"Olga! Olga!" And then a guttural level jumble of sounds. + +Kitty's quick brain reached out for a similitude - water rushing +over ragged boulders. + +"Olga!" she whispered. "He is a Russian!" + +"There are Serbian Olgas and Bulgarian Olgas and Rumanian Olgas. +Probably his sweetheart." + +"The poor thing!" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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! + +One thing was certain - there would be no more cat-napping. The +game was on again. He was assured of that side of it. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Want any company?" asked Harrison, with a belligerent twist to his +moustache. + +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." + +"But what's to become of Miss Conover? She ought not to remain +alone in that apartment." + +"Well, well! I thought of that, too. But she can take care of +herself." + +"Those ruffians may call up the hospital and learn that we tricked +them. + +"And then?" + +"Try to force the truth from Miss Conover." + +"That's precisely the wherefore of this coal dust. On your way!" + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"We do not wish to harm you, and won't if you're sensible. Where +did they take the man you brought + + +CHAPTER XI + + +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. + +"Answer!" cried the spokesman of the two, twisting Kitty's shoulder. +"Where did they take him?" + +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. + +"What do you want?" Her throat was so dry she wondered whether +the words were projected far enough for them to hear. + +"We want the address of the wounded man you brought into this +apartment." + +"They took him to a hospital." + +"He was taken away from there." + +"He was?" + +"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." + +"The army surgeon? He was called in by chance. I don't know where +he lives." + +"The man in the dress suit." + +"He was with the surgeon." + +"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. + +"Will you step out of the room while I dress?" + +"No. Tell us where the man lives, and you can have the whole +apartment to yourself." + +"You speak English very well." + +"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?" + +"You know what abduction means?" + +"Your police will not catch us." + +"But I might give you the wrong address." + +"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." + +"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." + +Kitty obeyed, very lovely in her dishevelment. Repugnant as the +task was she disarmed the two men and flung their weapons on the bed. + +"Now something to tie their hands; anything that will hold." + +Kitty could see the speaker now. Another coal heaver, but evidently +on her side. + +"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." + +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. + +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! + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Thank you," she said, simply. + +"You poor little chicken, did you believe I had deserted you?" The +voice wasn't gruff now. + +"Cutty?" Kitty ran to him, flinging her arms round his neck. "Oh, +Cutty!" + +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. + +"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!" + +"For an old codger?" Cutty's heart registered another sizable bump. + +Kitty laughed. "Never call yourself old to me again. Are you +always doing these things?" + +"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." + +"Cutty, I saw a man in the court with a pocket lamp before I went +to bed. He was hunting for something." + +"I didn't find anything but a lot of fresh food someone had thrown +out." + +"It was you, then?" + +"Yes. There was a vague possibility that your protege might have +thrown out something valuable during the struggle." + +"What?" + +"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." + +"I shall stay until my lease expires." + +"Why? In the face of real danger?" + +"Because I intend to, Cutty - unless you kidnap me." + +"Have you any good reason?" + +"You'll laugh; but something tells me to stay here." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"Why do you say that?" + +"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." + +"Mouquin's for lunch?" + +"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." + +"Good gracious!" + +"Fact. But come up to the roost - changing taxis - to-morrow at +five and have tea." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +"What does he say?" asked the nurse. + +"It is Russian. Is it a crisis?" he evaded. + +"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." + +"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. + + +Three o'clock in the morning. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +She strained the coffee, humming a tune out of The Mikado, the +revival of which she had seen lately: + + 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! + + +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! + +"Grapefruit, eggs on toast, and coffee; mademoiselle is served!" she +cried, gayly, sitting down and attacking her breakfast with the zest +of healthy youth. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When she reached the office she had a hard time of it to settle down +to the day's work. + +"Hustle up that Sunday stuff," said Burlingame. Kitty laughed. +Just as she had pictured it. She hustled. + +"I have it!" she cried, breaking a spell of silence. + +"What - St. Vitus?" inquired Burlingame, patiently. + +"No; the Morgue!" + +"What the dickens - !" + +But Kitty was no longer there to answer. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When the elevator reached the seventeenth floor, the passengers +surged forth. All except Kitty, who tarried. + +"We don't carry to the eighteenth, miss. + +"I am Miss Conover," she replied. "I dared not tell you until we +were alone." + +"I see." The boy nodded, swept her with an appraising glance, and +sent the elevator up to the loft. + +"You understand? If any one inquires about me, you don't remember." + +"Yes, miss. The boss's orders." + +"And if any one does inquire you are to report at once." + +"That, too." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Kitty explained, delighted. + +"Well, well! If you can lose a man such as I set to watch you, +you'll have no trouble shaking the others." + +"It was Karlov, Cutty." + +"How did you learn?" + +"Searched the morgue and found a half tone of him. Positively +Karlov. How is the patient?" + +"Harrison says he's pulling round amazingly. A tough skull. He'll +be up for his meals in no time." + +"How do you do it?" she asked with a gesture. + +"Do what?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Why, Cutty, you must be rich!" + +"I'm sorry. What can I do? I can't give it away." + +"But you don't have to work!" + +"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." + +"Did mother know?" + +"Yes." + +With the toe of a snug little bronze boot Kitty drew an outline round +a pattern in the rug. + +"Love is a funny thing," was her comment. + +"It sure is, old-timer. But what put the thought into your head?" + +"I was thinking how very much mumsy must have been in love with +father." + +"But she never knew that I loved her, Kitty." + +"What's that got to do with it? If she had wanted money you wouldn't +have had the least chance in the world." + +"Probably not! But what would you have done in your mother's place?" + +"Snapped you up like that!" Kitty flashed back. + +"You cheerful little - little - " + +"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." + +"Would you marry me, Kitty?" + +"Are you serious?" + +"Let's suppose I am" + +"No. I couldn't marry you, Cutty I should always be having my +mother's ghost as a rival." + +"But supposing I fell in love with you?" + +"Then I'd always be doubting your constancy. But what queer talk!"' + +"Kitty, you're a joy,! Lordy, my luck in dropping in to see you +yesterday!" + +"And a little whippersnapper like me calling a great man like you +Cutty!" + +"Well, if it embarrasses you, you might switch to papa once in a +while." + +Kitty's laughter rang down the corridor. "I'll remember that +whenever I want to make you mad. Who's here?" + +"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." + +"Am I to see the patient?" + +"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." + +"He said he had money." + +"Well, Karlov's men stripped him clean." + +"Have you any idea who he is?" + +"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." + +"How did you find that out?" + +"From a photograph I found in the lining of his coat. A pretty +blonde girl." + +"Good heavens!" - recollecting her dream. "Where was it printed?" + +"Amateur photography. I'll pick it up on the way to the living +room." + +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. + +"Russian? What does it say?" + +"'To Ivan from Olga with all her love.'" + +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. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"It's yours if you want it when I leave." + +"And I'd have a fine time explaining to my friends! You old innocent! +... Or are you so innocent?" + +"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." + +"I promise. + +"Why the gurgle?" + +"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." + +"You'll give some man a wild dance." + +"If I do I'll dance with him. Now lead me to the cookies." + +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 linger on her lips. They might +wake the patient. + +"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.". + +"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." + +"I begin to feel important." + +"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." + +"You are going to give me a part in the play?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"They may attempt to kidnap you, Kitty." + +"That doesn't frighten me." + +"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." + +"And, of course, you'll take me into your confidence completely?" + +"When the time comes. Half the fun in an adventure is the element +of the unexpected," said Cutty. + +"Where did you first meet Stefani Gregor?" + +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. + +"What makes you think I know Stefani Gregor?" asked Cutty, genuinely +curious. + +"When I pronounced that name you whirled upon me as if I had struck +you." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Cutty went with her to the elevator and when he returned to the tea +table he sat down without speaking. + +"Why not kidnap her yourself," suggested Harrison, "if you don't want +her in this?" + +"She would never forgive me." + +"If she found it out." + +"She's the kind who would. What do you think of her, Miss Frances?" + +"I think she is wonderful. Frankly, I should tell her everything + - if there is anything more to be told." + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Good Lord!" he ejaculated. + +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! + +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. + +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! + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"By the Lord Harry!" Cutty stopped and struck his hands together. +"The drums!" + +>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! + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Hey, there; just a moment!" hailed the reporter. "I want a word +with you about that advertisement." + +Cutty came to a standstill. "I paid for it, didn't I?" + +"Sure. But what's this about the drums of jeopardy?" + +"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. + +"Can it! Can it!" jeered the reporter. "Be a good sport and give +us the tip. Strike call among the city engineers?" + +"I'm telling you." + +"Like Mike you are!" + +"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!" + +The reporter backed away. "Is that on the level?" + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"I'll fix him, sir." + +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. + +Meantime, when the elevator touched the ground floor, the operator +observed a prospective passenger. + +"Last trip, sir. You'll have to take the stairs." + +"Where'll I find the engineer who went up with you just now?" + +"The man I took up? Gone to bed, I guess." + +"What floor?" + +"Nothing doing, bo. I'm wise. You're the fourth guy with a subpoena +that's been after him. Nix." + +"I'm not a lawyer's clerk. I'm a reporter, and I want to ask him a +few questions." + +"Gee! Has that Jane of his been hauling in the newspapers? +Good-night! Toddle along, bo; there's nothing coming from me. Nix." + +"Would ten dollars make you talk?" asked the reporter, desperately. + +"Ye-ah - about the Kaiser and his wood-sawing. By-by!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"And say to the reporter who has probably asked to watch - hands +off! Understand? Absolutely - off!" + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Look!" he whispered, indicating Cutty's advertisement. + +The occupant of the room snatched the newspaper and carried it to a +window. + + Will purchase the drums of jeopardy at top price. No questions + asked. Address this office. + Double C. + +"Very good. I might have missed it. We shall sell the accursed +drums to this gentleman." + +"Sell them? But - " + +"Imbecile! What we must do is to find out who this man is. In the +end he may lead us to him." + +"But it may be a trap!" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He heard a footstep and looked up. The nurse was beckoning to him. + +"What is it?" + +"He's awake, and there is sanity in his eyes." + +"Great! Has he talked?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"One question," said the patient, weakly. + +"Well, just one." + +"A girl - who gave me something to eat?" + +"Yes. She fed you, and later probably your life." + +"Thanks." Hawksley closed his eyes. + +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! + +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! + +In his fevered flights Hawksley had spoken of having paid Kitty for +that meal. + +Kitty had said nothing about it. Supposing - + +"Telephone, sair," announced the Jap. "Lady." + +Molly's girl! Cutty sprinted to the telephone. + +"Hello! That you, Kitty?" + +"Yes. How is Johnny Two-Hawks?" + +"Back to earth." + +'When can I see him? I'm just crazy to know what the story is!" + +"Say the third or fourth day from this. We'll have him shaved and +sitting up then." + +"Has he talked?" + +"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." + +"Fiddlesticks! All I've got to do in danger is to press a button, +and presto! here's Bernini." + +"Kitty, did Hawksley pay you for that meal?" + +"Good heavens, no! What makes you ask that?" + +"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? + +"Anything about Gregor?" + +"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." + +"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 he fair to Johnny +Two-Hawks. Cutty, did you know that your wonderful drums of jeopardy +are here in New York?" + +"What?" barked Cutty. + +"Somebody is offering to buy them. There was an advertisement in +the paper this morning. Cutty?" + +"Yes." + +"The first problem in arithmetic is two and two make four. By-by!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That evening at five-thirty Kitty received a box of beautiful roses, +with Cutty's card. + +"Oh, the lovely things!" she cried. + +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? + +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. + +Outside stood a well-dressed gentleman, older than Cutty, with +shrewd, inquiring gray eyes and a face with strong salients. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Where I may find this Gregory." + +"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 - " + +"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." + +"In what way?" + +"I am only an agent, and am not at liberty to speak. Could you +describe Gregory?" + +"Then he is a stranger to you?" + +"Absolutely." + +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. + +"A false alarm," she whispered. "Someone inquiring for Gregor. I +thought it might be well for you to see him." + +"I'll work the radiator stuff." + +"Very well." + +Bernini went into the living room and fussed over the steam cock of +the radiator. + +"Nothing the matter with it, miss. Just stuck." + +"Sorry to have troubled you," said the stranger, rising and picking +up his hat. + +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! + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +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. + +"My orders were that I was not at home to any one." + +"Yes, sir. But he said you would see him because he came to see you +regarding a Mr. Gregory." + +"What?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"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." + +"Yes, sir" - with the colourless tone of a perfect servant. + +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. + +"I suppose," said the banker, "you and I ought to sign an armistice, +too." + +"Agreed." + +"And you've always been rather a puzzle to me. A rich man, a +gentleman, and yet sticking to the newspaper game." + +"And you're a puzzle to me, too. A rich man, a gentleman, and yet +sticking to the banking game." + +"What the devil was our row about?" + +"Can't quite recall." + +"Whatever it was it was the way you went at it." + +"A reform was never yet accomplished by purring and pussyfooting," +said Cutty. + +"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?" + +"I never smoke anything but pipes that ruin curtains. You should +have given your name to Miss Conover." + +"I was under promise not to explain my business. But before we +proceed, an answer. Newspaper?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Whether or not he is undesirable." + +"Decidedly, I should say, desirable." + +"You make that statement as an American citizen?" + +"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?" + +"Everything," answered Cutty, quietly. + +"You know where this young man is?" + +"At this moment he is in my apartment, rather seriously battered and +absolutely penniless." + +"Well, I'll be tinker-dammed! You know who he is, of course?" + +"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." + +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?" + +"All in a heap," confessed Cutty. "When was this fund established +with you?" + +"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." + +"What brought him to America? Why didn't he go to England? That +would have been the safest haven." + +"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." + +"Well, I'll be tinker-dammed, too!" exploded Cutty. + +"A young man with these ideas in his head ought eventually to become +a first-rate citizen. What do you say?" + +"I am considerably relieved. His forbears, the blood - " + +"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." + +"I am much obliged to you. The white elephant becomes a normal drab +pachyderm," said Cutty. + +"Still something of an elephant on your hands. I see. Bring him +here if you wish." + +"And sic the Bolshevik at your door." + +"That's so. You spoke of his having been beaten and robbed. +Bolshevik?" + +"Yes. An old line of reasoning first put into effect by Oliver +Cromwell. The axe." + +"The poor devil!" + +"Fact. I'm sorry for him, but I wish he would blow away conveniently." + +"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." + +"Good reasons. That chap went to Gregor's - Gregor is his name - +and was beaten, robbed, and left for dead. She saved his life." + +"Good Lord! Does she know?" + +"No. And what's more, I don't want her to. I am practically her +guardian." + +"Then you ought to get her out of that roost." + +"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." + +"I'm glad you dropped in. Command me in any way you please." + +"That's very good of you, considering." + +"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." + +"Will you come to dinner some night?" + +"Any time you say. I should like to bring my daughter." + +"She doesn't know?" + +"No. Heard of Hawksley; thinks he's English." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The nurse heard the patient utter a single word several times before +he fell asleep. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"Fan!" And he smiled. + +She hunted for the palm leaf, but with a slight gesture he signified +that that was not what he wanted. + +Cutty played solitaire with his chrysoprase until the telephone +broke in upon his reveries. What he heard over the wire disturbed +him greatly. + +"You were followed from the Avenue to the apartment." + +"How do you know?" + +"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." + +"You still followed him?" + +"Yes." + +"Where did he wind up?" + +"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." + +"Thanks." + +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. + +He was. And in his dark room he cried piteously for water - water + - water! + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Problem Five was a mere vanishing point. He doubted if he would +ever see those emeralds. What an infernal pity! + +He built a coronet and leaned back, a wisp of smoke darting up from +the bowl of his pipe. + +"I say, you know, but that's a ripping game to play!" drawled a +tired voice over his shoulder. + +Cutty turned his head, to behold Hawksley, shaven, pale, and +handsome, wrapped in a bed quilt and swaying slightly. + +"What the deuce are you doing out of your room?" growled Cutty, but +with the growl of a friendly dog. + +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." + +"What is it you wish to know?" asked Cutty, gently. The poor beggar! + +"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." + +Cutty rose and pushed the invalid's chair to a window and drew another +up beside it. + +"My word, the top of the world! Bally odd roost." + +"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." + +With wide eyes Hawksley stared across the shining, wavering roofs. A +pause. "What do you know?" he asked, faintly. + +"Everything. But wait!" Cutty fetched one of the photographs and laid +it upon the young man's knees. "Know who this is - Two-Hawks?" + +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! + +"I'm sorry!" cried Cutty, troubled and embarrassed. "I'm terribly +sorry! I should have had the decency to wait a day or two." + +"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." + +"I'm sorry," repeated Cutty, a bit choked up. This was honest +misery and it affected him deeply. He felt himself singularly drawn. + +"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. + +"Yes. You wish me to forget what I know?" + +"Will you?" - eagerly. "Will you forget that I am anything but a +naked, friendless human being?" + +"Yes. But your enemies know." + +"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." + +"It is doing so now, indirectly. But why do you not want it known?" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Found you insensible on the floor," concluded Cutty, "hoisted you to +my shoulders, took you to the street - and here you are!" + +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!" + +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. + +"Saved my life. Suppose she doesn't want me to know." + +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." + +"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?" + +"Couldn't decently leave you where Karlov could get to you again." + +"Is Stefani Gregor dead?" + +"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. + +"You spoke of Karlov. Who is he?" + +"Why, the man who followed you across half the world." + +"There were many. What is he like?" + +"A gorilla." + +"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." + +"By the Lord Harry, I'll see you through. Now buck up. Hear that?" +cried Cutty, throwing up a window. + +"Music." + +"Look through that street there. See the glint of bayonets? +American soldiers, marching up Fifth Avenue, thousands of them, +freemen who broke the vaunted Hlndenburg 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?" + +"I used to. I'm jolly weak just now. But I'll grin if you want me +to." And Hawksley grinned. + +"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." + +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. + +"Now, no more gallivanting about." + +"I promise, old top. This bed is a little bit of all right. I say!" + +"What?" + +"How long am I to be here?" + +"If you're good, two weeks," interposed the nurse. + +"Two weeks? I say, would you mind doing me a trifling favour? I'd +like a violin to amuse myself with." + +"A fiddle? I don't know a thing about 'em except that they sound +good." Cutty pulled at his chin. + +"Whatever it costs I'll reimburse you the day I'm up." + +"All right. I'll bring you a bundle of them, and you can do your +own selecting." + +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." + +"What do you think of him?" + +"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?" + +"No. Poor devil. The fewer that know, the better. I'll be home +round three." + +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. + +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. + +"Quit your crowding there!" barked a voice under his chin. + +"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. + +"I'm so damned short I can't see anything!" + +"Neither can I." + +"You could if you wiped your eyes." + +"You're crying yourself," declared Cutty. + +"Blinking jackass! Got anybody out there?" + +"All of 'em." + +"I get you, old son of a gun! No flesh and blood, but they're ours +all the same. Couple of old fools; huh?" + +"Sure pop! What right have two old codgers got here, anyhow? What +brought you out?" + +"What brought you?" + +"Same thing." + +"Damn it! If I could only see something!" + +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. + +"Say," he said as they finally dropped back, "I'd offer to buy a +drink, only it sounds flat." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"You said it. Good-bye." + +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. + +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! + +He might have continued on indefinitely had he not seen obliquely +a window filled with musical instruments. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +Where there is fiddling there is generally dancing. If it be not the +feet, then it will be the soul. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Perhaps I'd better get the proprietor," was the clerk's suggestion. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Top price, I should say. Shall I make a deposit?" + +"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. + +"Three o'clock," said Cutty. + +"Very well, sir. I promise to bring the violins myself." + +Cutty wrote out his check for a thousand and departed, the chuckle +still going on inside of him. Versatile old codger, wasn't he? + +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. + +Hawksley, a fresh bandage on his head, his shoulders propped by +pillows, eyed the initial manoeuvres with frank amusement. + +"I say, you know, would you mind tuning them for me? I'm not top +hole." + +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. + +"My word! If you have a violin there why not let me have it at once?" + +The dealer flushed. "Try this, sir. But I do not promise you that +I shall sell it." + +"Ah!" Hawksley stretched out his hands to receive the instrument. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Perhaps the dealer's astonishment was greatest. An Englishman! Who +ever heard of an Englishman playing a violin like that? + +"I will buy it," said Hawksley, sinking back. + +"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." + +"I will give you twelve." + +"But, sir - " + +"Name a price," interrupted Hawksley, rather imperiously. "I want it." + +Cutty understood that he was witnessing a flash of the ancient blood. +To want anything was to have it. + +"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." + +"That's fair enough," interposed Cutty. + +"I beg pardon," said Hawksley. "I agree. I want it, but not at the +price of any one's dishonesty." + +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." + +"But what the deuce is the difference?" Cutty demanded with a gesture +toward the rejected violins. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"My fingers are stiff," said Hawksley. "My hand is tired. I should +like to be alone." He lay back rather inertly. + +In the corridor Cutty whispered to the dealer: "What do you think +of him?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At six he was off duty. As he was leaving the precinct the desk +sergeant called him back. + +"Got change for a dollar, an' I'll settle that pinochle debt," +offered the sergeant. + +"I'll take a look." The policeman emptied his coin pocket. + +"What's that yuh got there?" + +"Which?" + +"The red stone?" + +"Oh, that? Picked it up on the sidewalk. Some Italian kids dropped +it as they skedaddled." + +"Let's have a look." + +"Sure." The policeman passed over the stone. + +"Gee! That looks like real money. Say, they can do anything with +glass these days." + +"They sure can. + +A man in civilian clothes - a detective from headquarters - went up +to the desk. "What you guys got there?" + +"A ruby this boob picks up off'n the sidewalk," said the sergeant, +winking at the finder, who grinned. + +"Let's have a squint at it." + +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. + +"Well, you boobs!" he drawled. + +"What's the matter?" + +"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!" + +The sergeant and the policemen barked simultaneously: "What?" + +"A pigeon blood. Where was it you found it?" + +"Holy Moses! On Eightieth." + +"Any chance of finding that bunch of kids?" + +"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!" + +"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!" + +"Well, whadda yuh know about that?" whined the policeman. "An' me +thinkin' it was glass!" + +But there was no big noise. No one had reported the loss or theft +of a pigeon-blood ruby of unusual size and quality. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Miz Conover?" + +"Yes." + +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. + +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! + +"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!" + +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. + +A fat black wallet! Instantly she knew who had placed it there. +That poor Johnny Two-Hawks! + +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! + +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. + +Still, she examined the outside carefully. In one corner had been +originally a monogram or a crest; effectually obliterated by the +application of fire. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You, miss?" + +"Very important. Take me up." + +"The boss is out." + +"No matter. Take me up. + +"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. + +"Do you know where he went?" + +"Never know. But I'll be in this bird cage until he comes back." + +"I shall have to wait for him." + +"Up she goes!" + +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. + +The nurse appeared. "You, Miss Conover?" + +"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?" + +"No. I am not in his confidence to that extent. But I do know that +you assumed unnecessary risks in coming here." + +Kitty shrugged and produced the wallet. "Is Mr. Hawksley awake?" + +"He is." + +"It appears that he left this wallet in my kitchen that night. It +might buck him up if I gave it to him." + +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." + +"I'll try not to. Perhaps, after all, you had better give him the +wallet." + +"On the contrary, that would start a series of questions I could +not answer. Come along." + +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? + +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. + +"Just when I never felt so lonely! Ripping!" + +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. + +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. + +"How - how are you?" asked Kitty, inanely. + +"Top-hole, considering. Quite ready to be killed all over again." + +"You mustn't talk like that!" she protested. + + +"Only to show you I was bucking up. Thank you for doing what you +did." + +"I had to do it." + +"Most women would have run away and left me to my fate." + +"Not my kind." + +"Rather not! Your kind would risk its neck to help a stray cat. +I say, what's that you have in your hand?" + +"Good gracious!" Kitty extended the wallet. "It is yours, isn't it?" + +"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." + +"Mine?" - dumfounded. "But - - " + +"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." + +"I had no right to." + +"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." + +"But I don't - I can't quite," Kitty stammered - "but I couldn't +have kept them!" + +"Positively yes. You would have shown them to that ripping guardian +of yours, and he would have made you see." + +"Indeed, yes! He would have been scared to death. You poor man, +can't you see? Circumstantial evidence that I had killed you!" + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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?" + +"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 - " + +"What?" + +"If - it wouldn't have been just as well!" + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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! + +"Oh, I say, now! Please!" she heard Johnny Two-Hawks cry out. + +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. + +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. + +"Miss Conover?" It was the voice of the nurse. + +"Yes. I'm over here on the divan." + +"Anything wrong?" + +"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 " + +"Anything I can get for you?" + +"No, thanks. I'll try to snatch a little sleep before Cutty returns." + +"But he may be gone all night!" + +"Will it be so very scandalous if I stay here?" + +"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." + +"No, thanks. I did not know that Mr. Hawksley played." + +"Wonderfully! But does it bother you?" + +"It kind of makes me choky." + +"I'll tell him." + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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? + +"Stefani Gregor, sit up. I have come to talk." This was formula. +Karlov did not expect speech from Gregor. + +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. + +"Boris, what is it you want?" + +"To talk" - surprised at this unexpected outburst. + +"No, no. I mean, what is it all about - these killings, these +burnings?" + +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. + +"To give the proletariat what is his." + +"Ha!" said the little man on the cot. "What is his?" + +"That which capitalism has taken away from him." + +"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." + +"Wait and see, damned bourgeoisie!" thundered Karlov, not alive to +the fact that he was being baited. + +"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." + +"Under the soviet the government shall be everything." + +"As it was in Prussia." + +Karlov ignored this. "The individual shall never again become rich +by exploiting the poor." + +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. + +"Well, that is good," Gregor admitted. "But somehow it sounds +ancient on my ear. Was there not a revolution in France?" + +"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." + +"Your proletariat's sister and daughter. But the daughter of the +noble and the daughter of the +bourgeoisie - fair game!" + +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. + +"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." + +"For what?" + +"The common good." + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"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." + +"How much did they pay you? Did you fiddle for her to dance? ... But +I left their faces in the mud!" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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." + +Karlov began to pace furiously, the candle flame springing after him +each time he passed it. + +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. + +"Come, Boris. There is blood on your hands. What is one more daub +of it?" + +Karlov stopped, scowled, and ran his fingers through his hair. +Perhaps some ugly memory stirred the roots of it. "You wish to die!" + +Gregor bent his head to his hands and Karlov resumed his pacing. +After a while Gregor looked up. + +"Private vengeance. You begin your rule with private vengeance." + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"Let each become one of us," cried Karlov, hoarsely. "We give +them that right." + +"You lie! You have done nothing but assassinate them when they +surrendered. But tell me, have not you, Lenine, and Trotzky +overlooked something?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"The state will carefully mother that." + +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." + +"Which capitalism has always obstructed," flung back Karlov. + +"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!" + +The anarch's huge fists became knotted; wrinkles corrugated his +forehead; but he did not stir. Gregor wanted to die. + +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." + +"Be silent!" roared Karlov, wavering. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +A short silence. Gregor was beginning to grow weak. Presently he +picked up the thread of his diatribe. + +"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." + +Sweat began to drop from Karlov's beetling eyebrows. + +"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! + +"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!" + +"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. + +Gregor feebly drew himself back upon his cot and laid his face in +the pillow. + +"Ivan - my violin - all that I knew and loved - gone! And God will +not let me die!" + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +>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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +If ever he laid his hands upon the drums he would buy something +gorgeous for Kitty. Little thoroughbred! + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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 subitaneously 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? + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +"Kitty," he said, breaking the tableau, "what are you doing here?" + +"You've been hurt! There is blood on you!" + +"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 + +Kitty's lip quivered. "Cutty, if you talk like that to me I shall +cry." + +"Good Lord, what about?" - bewildered. + +"About everything. I've been on the verge of hysterics all day." + +"Kitty, you poor child, what's happened?" + +"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. + +"What's this?" + +"Belongs to Johnny Two-Hawks. He hid it that night behind my +flatirons on the range. Why, Cutty, he's rich!" + +"Did he show the contents?" + +"Only the money and the bonds. He said if he had died the money +and bonds would have been mine. + +"Providing Gregor was also dead." Cutty looked into the wallet, but +disturbed nothing. "I imagine these funds are actually Gregor's." + +"He told me to give the wallet to you. And so I waited. I fell +asleep. So please don't scold me." + +"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." + +"Thank you for the flowers. You'll never know just what they did +for me. There was somebody who gave me a thought." + +"Kitty, I honestly don't get you. A beauty like you, lonesome!" + +"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?" + +"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. + +"The wallet? I did not look into it. I had no right." + +"Ah! Well, I'll be back in two jigs. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Coffee?" said Kitty at his elbow. + +"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." + +"Is there anything you can tell me, Cutty?" + +"A whole lot, Kitty; only I'm twenty years too old." + +"I mean the wallet. Who is he?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Ab, but that tastes good!" - as he blew forth a wavering ring of +smoke. + +"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." + +"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." + +Kitty nodded. This dovetailed with what Johnny Two-Hawks had told +her that night. + +"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." + +Again Kitty nodded, her eyes sparkling. + +"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." + +"That was brave." + +"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." + +"I'm glad I gave him something to eat. But Gregor, a valet in a +hotel, with all that money!" + +"The red tape." + +"What a dizzy world we live in, Cutty!" + +"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." + +"I promise." + +"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." + +"Who cares?" + +"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!" + +"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." + +"You can have a guest room." + +"I'd rather the divan; less scandalous. Cutty, I forgot. He played +for me." + +"What? He did?" + +"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." + +"Are you fond of music?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Kitty, what would you say if I kissed you?" Inwardly he asked: +"Now, what the devil made me say that?" + +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! + +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. + +"Forgive me, Kitty. That wasn't exactly nice of me, even if I was +trying to be funny." + +She tore away from him, flung herself upon the divan, her face in +the pillows, and let down the dam. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +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. + +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. + +But immediately this sense of resentment caused him to chuckle. +Certainly some ancestor of his had been a Black Bart or a Galloping +Dick. + +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 m 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. + +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. + +"But you must!" insisted Miss Frances. + +"Chops or beefsteak!" + +"It will give you nausea." + +"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!" + +"Let him have it, Miss Frances," advised Cutty from the doorway. + +"But it's unusual," replied the nurse as a final protest. + +"Give it a try. Is he strong enough to sit up through breakfast?" + +"He's really not fit. But if he insists on doing the one he might +as well do the other." + +"Righto!" - from the patient. + +"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. + +"Very well. Only, I've warned him." Miss Frances left, somewhat +miffed. + +"Thanks," said Hawksley, smiling. "She thinks I'm a canary." + +"Whereas you're an eagle." + +"Or a vulture." + +Cutty chew up a chair. "Frankly, I believe a good breakfast will +put you a peg up." + +"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." + +"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. + +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!" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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?" + +"No." Hawksley opened his eyes, but looked dully straight ahead. +"The stones! I was trying to forget! My God, I was trying to forget!" + +"But they were yours?" Cutty was mystified beyond expression. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Fond of her?" + +"Fond of her!" repeated Cutty. "Why, of course I'm fond of her!" +There was a touch of indignation in his tone. + +"Is she fond of you?" + +"I suppose so." What was the chap driving at? + +"Then marry her," suggested Hawksley with a cynical smile; "make a +settlement and give her her freedom. Simple enough. What?" + +Cutty stepped back, stunned and terrified. "She would laugh at me!" + +"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." + +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! + +"I'm old enough to be her father." + +"What's that to do with it so long as convention is satisfied?" + +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! + +"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." + +"Utterly impossible," said Cutty, to the idea rather than to his +tormentor. + +"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. + +"Buck up," said Cutty, his blazing wrath dropping to a smoulder. +"I'll fetch those togs." + +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. + +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! + +When Kuroki announced that breakfast was ready, Cutty went into the +living room for Kitty, whom he bad 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. + +"Breakfast is served, Your Highness," he announced with a grave +salaam. + +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. + +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!" + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +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. + +"What's the matter?" Cutty whispered in turn. + +"My clothes!" + +"What's the matter with 'em?" + +"I slept in them!" + +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 - + +"Don't let that bother you," he said. "Those duds of his are mine." + +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. + +Kuroki, who had travelled far with his master these ten years, +sometimes paused in his rounds to nod affirmatively. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Cutty interrupted with a laugh. "Kitty, you'll 'scare Hawksley off +the map!" + +"Let him know the worst at once," retorted Kitty, flashing a smile +at the victim. + +"Spoofing me - what?" said Hawksley, appealing to his host. + +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! + +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. + +Presently Kuroki came in with a yellow envelope, which he laid at +the side of Cutty's plate. + +"Telegrams!" exploded Cutty. "Hang it, I don't want any telegrams!" + +"Open it and have it over with," suggested Kitty. + +"If you don't mind." + +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. + +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. + +"Bad news?" asked Kitty, anxiously. + +"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." + +"I'll stay as long as you need me," said Miss Frances. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Cutty smiled. "When I tackle anything I like to carry it through. +I want to put you on your train." + +"To be reasonably sure that I shan't come back?" + +"Precisely" - but without smiling. With a vague yet inclusive nod +Cutty hurried off. + +"It is because he is such a thorough sportsman. Mr. Hawksley," Kitty +explained. "Having accepted certain obligations he cannot abrogate +them off. hand." + +"Did I bother you last night? I mean, did my fiddling?" + +"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. + +Hawksley smiled. An hour or two with that old Amati. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"I'm afraid that breakfast was too much for him," the nurse ventured. +"An odd young man." + +"Very," replied Kitty, rather absently. She was trying to analyze +that flash of shyness. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Kitty, do you trust me?" + +"Of all the foolish questions!" She pressed his arm. "Why shouldn't +I trust you?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"Looking into mirrors and hunting for specks," he answered, readily. + +"I mean seriously." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +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. + +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. + +"Well, you might say 'Good morning.'" + +"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. + +"What's the matter?" + +"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?" + +"Why," answered Burlingame, "I suppose I'd consider July first as +the best thing that could happen to me." + +Kitty laughed; and that was what he wanted. + +What had that old rogue been doing now - offering Kitty his +eighteen-story office building? + +"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." + +"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." + +"Work! What is it?" + +"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." + +"But who?" + +Burlingame jerked his thumb toward a photograph on the wall. + +"Oh! This will be the most scrumptious event in my life. I'm +wild about her! But I haven't any clothes!" + +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. + +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. + +"I am going out of town, Mr. Bernini. I may be gone a week." + +"All right, Miss Conover." Bernini hid a smile. He knew all about +this trip, having been advised by Cutty over the wire. + +"Am I being followed any more?" + +"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." + +"Anybody would consider that Karlov was after me instead of Hawksley." + +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." + +"Why wasn't I told this at the start?" + +"You were told, indirectly. We did not care to frighten you." + +"I'm not frightened," said Kitty. + +"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." + +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. + +"Well?" greeted Karlov, moodily. + +"I have found the man in the dress suit." + +"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." + +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?" + +"Every day but Sunday." + +"Good news. Two bolts; one or the other will go home." + +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. + +"Nothin' the matter with you, Bo, but the crack on the conk." + +"Right-o!" agreed Hawksley. + +"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." + +"But "began Miss Frances in protest. This was cruelty. + +"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." + +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. + +"All right," said Ryan. "Now toddle back t' bed." + +"Bed?" + +"Yep. Goin' t' give you a rub that'll start all your machinery +workin'." + +Docilely Hawksley obeyed. He wasn't going to let them know, but +that bed was going to be tolerably welcome. + +"Well!" said Miss Frances. "I don't see how he did it." + +"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." + +Miss Frances held out her hand. "You've handled men," she said, +with reluctant admiration. + +"Oh, boy! - millions of 'em, an' each guy different. Believe me! +Make 'em wanta." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And in his cellar Boris Karlov spun his web for her. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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 +a1ways 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. + +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. + +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. + +"You!" he cried. + +"What has happened? Where are you going in those clothes?" demanded +Kitty. + +"I am running away - for an hour or so." + +"But you must not! The risks - after all the trouble we've had to +help you!" + +"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!" + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"But are you strong enough to venture on the streets?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"The way you speak English is wonderful!" + +"Simple enough to explain. Had an English nurse from the beginning. +Spoke English and Italian before I spoke Russian." + +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. + +"Kuroki, Miss Conover is dining here with me to-night. Seven +o'clock sharp. The best you have in the larder." + +"Yes, sair. You are going out, sair?" + +"For a bit of fresh air." + +"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. + +When the elevator arrived the boy did not open the door. He noted +the derby on Hawksley's head. + +"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." + +"I shan't argue," replied Hawksley, meekly. "I am really a prisoner, +then?" + +"For your own good, sir. Do you wish to go down, Miss Conover?" + +"No." + +The boy swung the lever, and the car dropped from sight. + +"I'm sorry," said Kitty. + +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!" + +Kitty laughed. "This is going to be fun!" + +"Rather!" + +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. + +"Now what?" asked Kitty, bubbling. + +"The floor below, and one of the other lifts, what?" Twenty minutes +later the two of them, arm in arm, turned into Broadway. + +"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." + +"The lights!" gasped Hawksley. + +"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!" + +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?" + +"Heavens, no! Why?" + +"Because I never met one like you before. Rather stilted - on their +good behaviour, I fancy." + +"And I interest you because I'm not on my good behaviour?" Kitty +whipped back. + +"Because you are as God made you - without camouflage." + +"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!" + +Tumpitum - tump! tumpitum - tump! drummed the Elevated. Kitty +laughed. The tocsin! Always something happened when she heard it. + +"Pearls!" she cried, dragging him toward a jeweller's window. + +"No!" he said, holding back. "I hate - jewels! How I hate them!" +He broke away from her and hurried on. + +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." + +"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?" + +"The Metropolitan Opera House." + +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. + +"The poor thing!" said Kitty. + +"Wait!" Hawksley approached the fiddler, exchanged a few words with +him, and the blind man surrendered his fiddle. + +"Give me your hat!" cried Kitty, delighted. + +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. + +As for the owner of the wretched fiddle, he raised his head, his +mouth opened. Up there, somewhere, a door to heaven had opened. + +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. + +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. + +"What's this?" demanded the policeman. + +"It's all over, sir," answered Kitty, smiling. + +"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. + +"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." + +"All right, miss; but don't do it again." The policeman grinned. + +"And please don't be harsh with the blind man. Just tell him he +mustn't play on Broadway again. Thank you!' + +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. + +"What a lark!" exclaimed Hawksley. + +"Were you asking me for your hat?" + +"I was telling the bobby to go to the devil!" + +They laughed like children. + +"March hares!" he said. + +"No. April fools! Good heavens, the time! Twenty minutes to +seven. Our dinner!" + +"We'll take a taxi.... Dash it!" + +"What's wrong?" + +"Not a bally copper in my pockets!" + +"And I left my handbag on the sideboard! We'll have to walk. If +we hurry we can just about make it." + +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. + +The driver watched the south corner; the three men inside never took +their gaze off the north corner. + +"But, I say, hasn't this been a jolly lark?" + +"If we had known we could have borrowed a dollar from the blind man; +he'd never have missed it." + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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?" + +"It is I who should ask forgiveness. I say, how much farther is it?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"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." + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Anarchists?" + +"About the size of it." + +"Miss Conover?" asked Hawksley. + +"Safe. No thanks to you, though. I'd like to knock your block off, +if you want to know!" + +"Do it! Damned little use to me," declared Hawksley, sagging. + +"Here, what's the matter with you?" cried the policeman, throwing +his arm round Hawksley. + +"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." + +But the taxicab was gone. + +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." + +"It was my fault," volunteered Kitty. + +"Mine," protested Hawksley. + +"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." + +"I promise." + +"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." + +"I'll be glad to go home with him," said Kitty, thoroughly chastened +in spirit. + +"That's all for to-night." + +Kitty and Hawksley stepped out into the corridor, the problem they +had sought to shake off reestablished in their thoughts, added too, +if anything. + +"How do you feel?" + +"Top-hole," lied Hawksley. "My word, though, I wobbled a bit going +round that block. I almost kissed the hobby. I say, he thought I'd +been tilting a few. But it was a lark!" + +"Dinner is served," announced Kuroki at their elbows. His expression +was coldly bland. + +"Dinner!" cried Hawksley, brightening. "What does the American +soldier say?" + +"Eats!" answered Kitty. + +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. + +"I was so infernally bored!" + +"And now?" asked Kitty, recklessly. + +"Fancy asking me that!" + +"Do you realize that all this is dreadfully improper?" + +"Oh, I say, now! Where's the harm? If ever there was a young +woman capable of taking care of herself - " + +"That isn't it. It's just being here alone with you." + +"But you are not alone with me!" + +"Kuroki?" Kitty shrugged. + +"No. At my side of the table is Stefani Gregor; at yours the man +who has befriended me." + +"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." + +"No need of telling me that." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I will play for you," he said, quietly. + +"Please! And then I'll go home where I belong. I'll be in the +living room." + +When he returned he found her before a window, staring at the myriad +lights. + +"Sit here," he said, indicating the divan. "I shall stand and walk +about as I play." + +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! + +"What shall I play?" + +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. + +"Forgive me! I was dreaming a little," she apologized with quick +understanding. "I am not quite - myself." + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Even then there was time. But he did not move. It was not until +he heard the elevator gate crash that be 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +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. + +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. + +Bernini met her in the lobby. "I've got a cab for you, Miss +Conover," he said as if nothing at all had happened. + +"Have you Cutty's address?" + +"Yes." + +"Then take me at once to a telegraph office. I have a very important +message to send him." + +"All right, Miss Conover." + +"Say: 'Decision made. It is yes.' And sign it just Kitty." + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +"A narrow squeak, Miss Conover," said Berumi, breaking the long +silence. + +"A miss is as good as a mile," replied Kitty, not at all grateful +for the interruption. + +"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." + +"You're quite a philosopher." + +"I have reason to be. I'm married." + +"Am I expected to laugh?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Honestly, I don't." + +"Does Cutty?" + +"I don't know that, either." + +"Did you ever hear of a pair of emeralds called the drums of +jeopardy?" + +"Nope. But I do know if you continue these stunts you'll head the +whole game into the ditch." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Sorry I've been so much trouble." + +"Perhaps we ought to have shown you which end shoots." + +"Good-night." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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! + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Kitty, what's the matter with you? You look dazed about something." + +"How do you clean a pipe?" she countered, irrelevantly. + +"Clean a pipe?" he repeated, nearly overbalancing his chair. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Did he drag you into it or did you fall into it?" + +"I walked into it, as presently I shall walk out of it - all on my +own. + +"Better keep your eyes open. Cutty's a stormy petrel; when he +flies there's rough weather." + +"What do you know about him?" + +"Probably what he has already told you - that he is a foreign agent +of the Government. What do you know?" + +"Everything but one thing, and that's a problem particularly my own." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Are you free?" + +"Yes, miss." + +"See that taxi going across town? Follow it and I will give you ten +extra fare." + +"You're on, miss." + +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. + +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." + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"Go on!" she called through the tube. + +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. + +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! + +"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." + +"What does this mean?" faltered Kitty. + +"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." + +"I'll go sensibly," Kitty agreed. They must not touch her! + +Karlov did not speak as he opened the door of the house for her. +His expression was Buddha-like. + +"This way, miss," said the chauffeur, affably. + +"You are an American?" + +"Whenever it pays." + +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. + +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. + +Light. She turned, to behold Kariov in the doorway, a candlestick +in his hand. "The scuttle is covered with cement, Miss Conover. +Nobody can get in or out." + +Kitty got down, her knees uncertain. If he touched her! Oh, the +fool she had been! + +"What are you going to do with me?" she asked through dry lips. + +"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." + +"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! + +"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. + +"Thank you for that." + +"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?" + +Kitty shook her head. + +"Has he played the fiddle for you?" + +"Yes." + +Karlov smiled. "Did you dance?" + +"Dance? I don't understand." + +"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." + +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. + +"Has he injured you?" she asked, to gain time. + +"He is an error in chronology. He represents an idea which no +longer exists." He spoke English fluently, but with a rumbling +accent. + +"But to kill him for that!" + +"Kill him? My dear young lady, I merely want him to fiddle for me," +said Karlov with another smile. + +"You tried to kill him," insisted Kitty, the dryness beginning to +leave her throat. + +"Bungling agents. Do know what became of them - the two who invaded +your bedroom?" + +"They were taken away the police." + +"So I thought. What became of the wallet?" + +"I found it hidden on the back of my stove." + +"I never thought to look there," said Karlov, musingly. "Who has +the drums?" + +"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!" + +Karlov stared at her, moodily. "What is that button for, at the +side of your bed?" + +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." + +Karlov nodded. "You are truthful and sensible I haven't the +emeralds." + +"Perhaps one of your men betrayed you." + +"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. + +"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." + +Karlov went out, locking the door. + +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. + +Perhaps not Cutty, but assuredly Two-hawks. His life for her +liberty. + +"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. + +"God forgive me! What can I do? What can I do?" + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +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. + +>From the Pennsylvania Station he had called up the office. Kitty +had gone. Bernini informed him that Kitty was dining at a caf‚ 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! + +"You are looking fit," he said across the table. + +"Ought to be off your hands by Monday. But what about Stefani +Gregor? I can't stir, leaving him hanging on a peg." + +"I am going into the study shortly to decide that. Head bother you?" + +"Occasionally." + +"Ryan easy to get along with?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"There is hope, then, for me!" + +"Hope?" + +"Yes. You know that my father, my uncle, and my grandfather were +fine scoundrels." + +"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." + +"You?" + +"Yes." + +Hawksley played with his fork. "If you had a daughter would you +trust me with her?" + +"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." + +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! + +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. + +"What's the joke?" asked Cutty, looking up from his coffee, which +he was stirring with unnecessary vigour. + +"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." + +"Tell me about it." + +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. + +"Have you any idea why she took such a risk? Why she came here, +knowing me to be absent?" + +"She spoke of a problem. I fancy it related to your approaching +marriage. She told me." + +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. + +"Why?" asked the bewildered Hawksley. + +"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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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.] + +"Love," he said, lowering the bow. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I am here as an emissary. There was nothing for me to do but +accept the job." + +"Did he have the stones?" asked Cutty, without the least suspicion +of what was coming. + +"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." + +"Kitty?" + +"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?" + +"Do you know where she is?" + +Cutty spoke without much outward emotion. + +"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." + +"You saw him this evening?" + +"Yes. It probably struck him as a fine joke to send me." + +"And if you don't go back?" + +"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." + +"I see. Wait here." + +At Cutty's approach Hawksley looked up apathetically. + +"Want me?" + +"Perhaps." + +"You are pale. Anything serious?" + +"Yes. Karlov has got Kitty." + +For a minute Hawksley did not stir. Then he got up, put away the +Amati, and came back. He was pale, too. + +"I understand," he said. "They will exchange her for me. Am I +right?" + +"Yes. But you are not obliged to do anything like that, you know." + +"I am ready." + +"You give yourself up?" + +"Why not?" + +"You're a man!" Cutty burst out. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"Coles," said Cutty upon reentering the study, "tell Karlov that His +Highness will give himself up. He will be there before midnight." + +"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." + +"I promise not to appear." + +Coles smiled enigmatically and reached for his hat. He held his hand +out to Hawksley. "You're a white man, sir." + +"Thanks," said Hawksley, absently. To have it all over with! + +As soon as the captive Federal agent withdrew Hawksley sat down at +the desk and wrote. + +"Will this hold legally?" he asked, extending the written sheet to +Cutty. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes. But why Kitty Conover, a stranger?" + +"Is a woman who saves your life a stranger?" + +"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. + +"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." + +"And that is why you asked me if I would trust you with a daughter +of mine?" + +"Yes." + +"Conscience. That explains this will." + +"No. Why did you accept my suggestion to marry her?" + +"To make her comfortable without sidestepping the rules of convention." + +"No. Because you love her - the way I do." + +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. + +"What makes you think I love her?" + +"What makes me tell you that I do?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +All this gentle irony went over Hawksley's head. "When do you wish +me to go down to the taxi?" + +"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?" + +"Fighting?" Hawksley was on his feet instantly. "Do you mean that? +I can die with free hands?" + +"With a chance of coming out top-hole." + +"I say, what a ripping thing hope is - always springing back!" + +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. + +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? + +"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." + +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!" + +"And if Kitty is not where I believe her to be?" + +"Then I'll return to the taxi outside." + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Faster!" whispered Cutty. + +Hawksley smiled. To say that to a chap when he was digging into +his tomb! + +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. + +With their short crowbars braced by stout fulcrums the two men +heaved. Noise did not matter now. Presently the trap went over. + +"Look out for your hands; there's lots of loose glass. And together +when we drop." + +"Right-o!" whispered Hawksley, assured that when he dropped through +the trap the result would be oblivion. Done in. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +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. + +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. + +Karlov whirled on his heels, ran to Kitty, and snatched her wrist. +"Why did you do that?" + +Kitty remained mute. "Answer !" - with a cruel twist. + +"You hurt!" she gasped. Anything to gain time. She tried to break +away. + +"Why did you do that?" + +"I was going to thrust it through a window to attract attention. +It was too heavy." + +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. + +Tap - tap - tap? inquired the unsuspecting man on the roof - +exactly to Kitty like some innocent, inquisitive child embarrassing +the family before company. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +"So!" said Karlov. + +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. + +"And the girl shall witness your agonies," he concluded. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Kitty, the door, the door!" Cutty shouted in despair, taking a +terrible kick on the thigh. "The door!" + +Kitty did not stir. + +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. + +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! + +"Take him away. But don't be rough with him. He's only a poor +devil of a madman," said Cutty. + +Karlov turned and calmly spat into Cutty's face. A dozen fists were +raised, but Cutty intervened. + +"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." + +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. + +"Done in, Kitty; that's all." + +"He isn't dead?" + +"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." + +"Alive? He is alive?" + +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." + +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?" + +"I don't want any more, Cutty; never any more. I've been a silly, +romantic fool!" + +"Not silly, only glorious." + +"Your poor face!" + +"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." + +"He did that - for me?" + +"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?" + +"God bless you, Cutty!" + +"He's always blessing me, Kitty. He blessed me with your mother's +friendship, now yours. Kitty, I'm going to jilt you." + +"Jilt me?" - her heart leaping. + +"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." + +"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." + +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! + +"Will you mind waiting here until I see where old Stefani Gregor is?" + +"No," answered Kitty, dreamily. + +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. + +Alone, Kitty smoothed back the dank hair from Hawksley's brow, which +she kissed. Benediction and good-bye. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +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. + +"Yes, sir. Just this minute went out." + +"Did he speak?" + +"A woman's name." + +"Rosa?" + +"Yes, sir. Looks to me as if he had been starved to death. Know +who he was?" + +"Yes. Tell the coroner to be gentle. Once upon a time Stefani +Gregor spoke to kings by right of genius." + +The thought that he himself might have been the indirect cause of +Gregor's death shocked Cutty, who was above all things tender. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What's this?" asked one of the operatives. "Looks like the pieces +of a broken fiddle." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Ha!" he cried, cheerfully. "Back on top again, I see. How's +the head?" + +"Haven't any; no legs; I'm nothing at all but a bit of my own +imagination. How do you feel?" + +"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." + +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. + +"About Stefani?" + +"Stefani is dead. He died speaking your mother's name." + +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?" + +"Keep an eye on you? So long as you may need me." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Between the two of you, perhaps." + +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. + +"No; I was thinking of Stefani. Rather hard - to die all alone + - because he loved me." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +So she avoided Hawksley's gaze, sensing the sustained persistence +of it. But, oh, to be alone, alone, alone! + +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! + +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. + +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? + +The telephone called Cutty from the room. + +Kitty went into the dining room for an extra pair of salt cellars +and delayed her return until she heard Cutty coming back. + +"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?" + +For Kitty had dropped the salt cellars and pressed her hands against +her bosom, her face colourless. + +Hawksley, terrified, tried to get up. + +"No, no! Nothing is the matter with me but my head.... To think I +could forget! Good - heavens!" She prolonged the words drolly. +"Wait." + +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. + +"Think of my forgetting them! I found them this morning. Where do +you suppose? On a step of the fire-escape ladder." + +"Well, I'll be tinker-dammed!" said Cutty. + +"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!" + +She poured the stones upon the white linen tablecloth. A thousand +fires! + +"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!" + +"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? + +He turned to broach the suggestion of purchase, but remained mute. + +Hawksley's head was sunk upon his chest; his arms hung limply at +the sides of his chair. + +"He is fainting!" cried Kitty, her love outweighing her resolves. +"Cutty!" - desperately, fearing to touch Hawksley herself. + +"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!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +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? + +"Take them into the study," urged Kitty. + +"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!" + +"If I said Mister - " began Kitty, her brain confused, her tongue +clumsy. + +"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?" + +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. + +Kitty missed him only when she heard the latch snap. + +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! + +"I do forgive - Johnny! But your world and my world -" + +"Those stains! The wretches hurt you!" + +"What? Where?" - bewildered. + +"The blood on your waist!" + +Kitty looked down. "That is not my blood, Johnny. It is yours." + +"Mine?" Johnny. Something in the way she said it. "Mine?" - trying +to solve the riddle. + +"Yes. It is where your cheek rested when - I thought you were dead." + +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. + +Silence. + +"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?" + +"I can and do care very much, Johnny." + +Her voice to his ears was like the G string of the Amati. "Will +you go with me?" + +"Anywhere. But you are a prince of some great Russian house, Johnny, +and I am nobody." + +"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." + +"Johnny." Anywhere, whatever he willed her to be. + +"I'm a child, Kitty. I want to grow up - if I can - to be an +American, something like that ripping old thoroughbred yonder." + +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! + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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! + +"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!" + +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. + +"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!" + +"I ran away like a yellow dog! I didn't go down there and die with +her!" + +"You didn't run away to-night when you offered your life for my +liberty. Johnny, you mustn't!" + +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. + +"It has been burning me up, Kitty." + +"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." + +"You will marry me, knowing that I did this thing?" + +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! + +"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." + +She pulled his chair round and pushed it toward a window, dropped +beside it and laid her cheek against his hand. + +"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. + +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. + +"Oh, Molly, Molly!" Cutty whispered into his rigid fingers. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +After supper Cutty brought in the old Amati. + +"Play," he said, lighting his pipe. + +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. + +Kitty smiled and smiled, the doors of her soul thrown wide to +absorb this magic message. Love. + +Cutty smoked on, with his eyes closed. He heard it, too. Love. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"Time we started for the choo-choo. Time-tables have no souls. But, +Lord, what a racket we've had!" + +"Well, rather!" - from Hawksley. + +"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." + +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. + +"Funny old top," was Hawksley's comment as they stood before the +train gate. "Three months gone we were strangers." + +"And now - " began Cutty. + +"With hoops of steel!" interrupted Kitty. "You must write, Cutty, +and Johnny and I will be prompt." + +"You'll get one from the Azores." + +"Train going west!" + +"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!" + +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. + +"Poor dear old Cutty!" said Kitty. + +"Old thoroughbred!" said Hawksley. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Forget something?" he asked, awkwardly. + +"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. + +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. + +Molly, then Kitty; but the drums of jeopardy were his! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Drums Of Jeopardy by Harold MacGrath + diff --git a/old/jprdy10.zip b/old/jprdy10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6904fe2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/jprdy10.zip |