Twice in her life Kitty had looked upon death by violence; and it only this present picture to her that she would be able to upon it callously, without and terror. Newspaper life—at least the of it—has an odd upon men and women; it their and and the of and sentimentality. It was natural for Kitty to the of tragedy; but she had been taken out of the in time to all her and romanticism. Otherwise she would have in that object with the of blood on the a story, and would have approached it from that angle. But was he dead? She her steps toward the and stared. She to her they were to in one of those of physical to which the will must occasionally. She was no longer of the tragedy, but she the great that was to itself in sobs; and she that if she she would for the of the and to out the plan in her head.
A strong, healthy man done to death in this fashion only a minutes after he had left her kitchen! Somehow she not look upon him as a stranger. She had him food; she had talked to him; she had laughed with him. He was not like those she had in her days. Her and Johnny Two-Hawks' had touched; she had old Gregory, or Gregor, who had been this man's friend. And he had they might meet again!
The had been watching. They must have entered the after he had entered hers. Conceivably they would have Gregor's key. And they had and waited, him it may have been at the very moment he had the of the window.
Her hand so that it was for a time to tell if the man's was beating. All at once a of over her—fury at the of the assault—and the passed. She her over Johnny Two-Hawks' heart. Alive! He was alive! She his and put a pillow under his head. Then she water and towels.
There was no cut on his forehead, only blood; but the top of his had been beaten. He was alive, but without he might die. The man!
There were two physicians in the block; one or the other would be in. She ran to the door, to it locked. She had forgotten. Next she the telephone wire cut and the speaking and inutile. She would have to return to her own to help. She not the light on. The might possibly return, and the light would them that their had been discovered; and naturally they would wish to or not they had succeeded in their assault.
As she was the first-landing she saw Cutty from the elevator. She across the fire-escape with the step of one thin ice.
Probably the most man in New York was the when the door opened and a pair of arms were about him, and a voice in the of his cried: “Oh, Cutty, I was so to see any one!”
“What in the name of—”
“Come! We'll this ourselves. Hurry!” She him along by the sleeve.
“But—”
“It is life and death! No talk now!”
Cutty, in his clothes, very much perturbed, along after her. As she passed through the window and him to he demurred.
“Kitty, what the is going on here?”
“I'll answer your questions when we him into my apartment. They to him; left him there to die!”
Cutty a great art, an art only in and newspaper reporters of the order—adaptability; of being able to the of and let the to the primordial, the instinctive, and the natural. Thus the Cutty who out Kitty into the was not the Cutty she had into the apartment. She did not this until later; and then she that Cutty, the and in idleness, was a animal a shell.
Ordinarily Cutty would have to come through this shell, thin as it was; he liked these great activities. But this was Conover's daughter, and she would have the seventh sense-divination of the reporter. Something big was in the air.
“Go on!” he said, briskly. “I'm at your heels. And as you pass those windows. No use a for somebody in those houses to see.... Old Tommy Conover's daughter, sure pop!... There you go, under the ladder! You've the whole affair, it is.... No, no! Just spoofing, Kitty. A long is no good anywhere, at a funeral.... This window? All right. Know where the lights are? Very good.”
When Cutty saw the man on the he quickly. “Nasty on the head, but he's alive. What's this? His cap. Poughkeepsie. By George, with his handkerchief! Must have something was going to on him. Now, what's it all about?”
“When we him to my apartment.”
“Yours? Good Lord, what's the with this?”
“They to kill him here. They might return to see if they had succeeded. They mustn't where he has gone. I'm strong. I can take of his knees.”
“Tut! Neither of us walk over that fire escape. He looks husky, but I'll try it. Now me without question or comment. You'll have to help me him the window and in through yours. Between the two I can him alone. I only 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 outside.” Panting, Kitty obeyed. “All right,” said Cutty. “I like your pluck. You along ahead and be to help me in with him. A healthy beggar! Here goes.”
With a and a and another Cutty up, the scientifically across his shoulders. Kitty was by this of in a man she as elderly—old. There was an that such of were for men. With the of twenty-four she the of fifty years of clean and thinking, missed the that often men at fifty are and than men in the twenties. They waste energy; their of movement and of the against the moment.
As a parenthesis: To a woman what is a hero? Generally something out of a book she has read; the unknown, man across the street; the leading actor in a drama; the of the movie. A hero must of be handsome; that is the essential. If he to be and debonair, rich and aristocratic, so much the better. Somehow, to be and to be are not actually in minds. For instance, every will agree that her father is brave; but tell her he is a hero he pays his and she will accept the with a of indulgence.
Thus Kitty viewed Cutty's with a of wonder. Had the man Cutty to his her would have been one of admiration. Let age its wisdom; has no to that; but of physical strength—that is upon youth's preserves. Kitty was not of the resentment. At that moment Cutty was to her the most old man in the world.
“Forward!” he whispered. “I want to know why I am doing this movie stunt.” The with Kitty in the lead. She prayed that no one would see them as they passed the two landing windows. Below and above were of light. She the drizzle; no clothes-laden lines to their progress. Someone in the of the houses in Seventy-ninth Street might the silhouettes. The whole must be off or their would come to nothing.
Once the Cutty his into his arms, the way one a child, and Kitty into the bedroom. He did not wait for the story, but asked for the telephone.
“I'm going to call for a at the Lambs. He's just from France and a about 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 away from the telephone. “He'll be here in a jiffy. Now, then, what the is all this about?”
Briefly Kitty the episodes.
“Samaritan stuff. I see. Any cotton? I can wash the after a fashion. Warm water and Castile soap. We can have him in shape for Harrison.”
Alone, Cutty took note of facts. The victim's shirt was at the and there were marks of on the and chest. Upon close he a thin red line the neck—the mark of a thong. Had they to him or had he something of value? Silk and a clean body; well born; foreign. After a Cutty through the pockets. All he were some of tobacco and a match box. They had him out evidently. There were no tailors' in any of the pockets; but there were that these had once existed. The man on the had them out himself; did not to be identified.
A in flight? Cutty the on the pillow. Shorn of that it would be handsome; not the type criminal, certainly. A of natural into his thoughts: Kitty had through the beard, otherwise she would have the over to the police. Not at all like her mother, yet her mother's match in and intelligence. Conover's girl, had nearly out of her at the of those drum-lined of his.
Two-Hawks. What was it that was trying to in his recollection? Two-Hawks. He was sure he had that name before. Hawksley meant nothing at all; but Two-Hawks a attraction. He off into space. He might have the name in a other than English.
A sound. It came from the of the man. Cutty frowned. The wasn't in a promising way; he after each inhalation. And what had of the old Kitty called Gregory? A business.
Kitty came in with a and a roll of cotton.
“He is groaning!” she whispered.
“Pretty condition, I should say. That in his cap saved him. Now, little lady, I don't like the idea of his being here. Suppose he dies? In that event there'll be the very to pay. You're all alone here, without a maid.”
“Am I all alone?”—softly.
“Well, no; come to think of it, I'm no longer your in theory. Give me the and the basin.”
He was very tender. The a little; but it was not the that profusely. It was less a cut than a bruise.
“Well, that's all I can do. Who was this Gregory?”
“A dear old man. A 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 the name before?”
“Just as I thought!” Cutty, his mind upon a happy invention. “You're romantic, Kitty. You're all of nonsense about this chap, and you must not let the you. If I spoke the name oddly—this Stefani Gregor—it was I in a moment that this was a of the overflow. Southeastern Europe, where the good Samaritan of thanked. Now, here's a good idea. Of we can't turn this upon the public, now that we know his life is in danger. That's always the trouble with this Samaritan business. When you a action you assume an obligation. You the Old Man of the Sea on your shoulders, as it were. The cannot be allowed to here. So, if Harrison agrees, we'll take him up to my diggings, where no Bolshevik will upon him.”
“Bolshevik?”
“For the of a handle. They might be Chinamen, for all I know. I can take of him until he is on his feet. And you will be saved all this annoyance.
“But I don't it's going to be an annoyance. I'm interested, and want to see it through.”
“If he can be moved, out he goes. No arguments. He can't in this apartment. That's final.”
“Exactly why not?” Kitty demanded, rebelliously.
“Because I say so, Kitty.”
“Is Stefani Gregor an undesirable?”
“You him. What do you say?” her godfather, the trap. The child! He inwardly.
Kitty was keen. She an undercurrent, and her attempt to touch it had failed. The name of Stefani Gregor had not Cutty's astonishment. She was positive that the name was not to her father's friend.
Still, something her not to press in this direction. He would be on the alert. She must wait until he had the incident. So she up a chair the and sat down.
Cutty against the footrail, his neutral. He inaudibly. His was over. Stefani Gregor, Kitty's neighbour, a in a hotel! Stefani Gregor, who, upon a day, had the of in the of a to his as Cutty. And who was this man on the bed?
“There goes the bell!” Kitty, jumping up.
“Wait!”
The ring was and impatiently.
“Kitty, I don't like the of that bell. Harrison would have no occasion to be impatient. Somebody in a hurry. Now, to me. I'm going to out to the kitchen. Don't be afraid. Call if I'm needed. Open the door just a crack, with your 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 it wide one of the men was a policeman. The man him was a thickset, individual, with puffed, and a nose that Kitty of an pear.
“What's going on here?” the to know.
