A phrase, to the situation, into Kitty's head. Moribund perspectives. Instantly she knew, with that mind of hers, that the man over the policeman's and Johnny Two-Hawks had met that day. She was now able to the results, and she the victory on Two-Hawks' brow. Yonder somehow the that had her to play the good Samaritan. Whence had this come? He was not one of the men who had in such from the Gregor apartment.
“This man here saw you and another someone across the fire escape. What's the rumpus?” The was not belligerent, but he was determined. And though he was to that this girl with the Irish was beautiful, a man tell.
“There's been a of some kind,” Kitty. “This man did see us a man across the fire escape. He had been set upon and in the across the way.”
“Why didn't you call in the police?”
“Because he might have died you got here.”
“Where's the man who helped you?”
“Gone. He was an outsider. He was of mixed up in a police and ran away.” Behind the 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 man hesitated. Kitty wanted to watch his when he saw Johnny Two-Hawks.
Seed on soil; nothing came of the little artifice. No Buddha's was less than the man's. Perhaps his was too to permit of expression. The of this a in one of Kitty's mouth. The man stopped at the of the with the air of a passer-by and more in the of the than in the man on the bed. But Kitty knew.
“A on the coco,” was the policeman's observation. “Take anything out of his pockets?”
“They were empty. I've sent for a surgeon. He may arrive at any moment.”
“This live across the way?”
“That's the odd part of it. No, he doesn't.”
“Then what was he doing there?”
“Probably the return of the who hasn't returned up to this hour”—with an at the man.
“Kind o' queer. Say, you here and watch the lady while I round.”
The man and over the of the bed. The out.
“I was in the kitchen,” said Kitty, confidingly. “I saw on the window curtain. It did not look right. So I started to and almost into two men the apartment. They took to their when they saw me.”
Again the man nodded. He appeared to be a good listener.
“Where were you when we the fire escape?”
“In the on the other of the fence.” There was in the voice.
“Oh, I see. You live there.”
As this was a and not a direct query, the man his affirmatively.
Kitty, her ears for in the kitchen, her on the patient's cheek. It was very hot. She a of into the water, which had cold, and the man's and throat. Not that she to anything by this act; it the nerve tension. This man was no fool. If her were he was a man in and in mind. In a he would be terrible. However, had Johnny Two-Hawks done it—beaten the man and escaped? No he had been all the time and had at length in to learn if his had his and to what they had succeeded.
“If he dies it will be murder.”
“It is a big city.”
“And so many terrible like this every day. But sooner or later those who them are out. Nemesis always on the of vengeance.”
For the time there was a of in the of the intruder. Perhaps he saw that this was not only a woman but a one, and the threat. Moreover, he that she had at one point. There had been no light in the room across the court.
But what in the world was out there in the kitchen? Kitty wondered. So far, not a sound. Had Cutty taken flight? And why shouldn't he have it out at her side? Very odd on Cutty's part. Shortly she the shoes of the returning.
“Guess it's all right, miss. I'll report the at the and have an sent over. You'll have to come along with me, sir.”
“Is that legally necessary?” asked the man, perturbed.
“Sure. You saw the thing and I it,” 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 embarrassed about something. The was gone from his and his speech was no longer brisk.
“My name is Conover,” said Kitty.
“I got that in,” the policeman. “We'll be on our way.”
Not once again did the man at the man on the bed. He the into the hall, his air that of one who had a to and it.
Kitty the door—and against it weakly. Where had Cutty gone? Even as she the she tobacco. She ran out into the kitchen, to Cutty seated in a chair his pipe!
“And I you were gone! What did you say to that policeman?”
“I him, Kitty.”
“The newspaper?”
“No. Just looked into his and a with my hands.”
“Of course, if you you ought not to tell me—” said Kitty, which is the way all start their wheedling.
Cutty looked into the bowl of his pipe.
“Kitty, when you a into a pond, what happens? A splash. But did you notice the way the have of on and on, until they touch the shore?”
“Yes. And this is a from some big into the of Europe. I understand.”
“That's just the difficulty. If you nothing it would be much for me. But you know just to want to up on your own hook. I know nothing definitely; I have only suspicions. I that by him a police power by the commissioner. I want you to pack up and move out of this neighbourhood. It's not to you.”
“I'm I can't to move until May.”
“I'll take of that gladly, to you out of this ruin.”
“No, Cutty; I'm going to here until the is up.”
“Gee-whiz! The Irish are all alike,” the correspondent, hopelessly. “Petticoat or pantaloon, always looking for trouble.”
“No, Cutty; we don't 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 for trouble, and failed to it. I don't like this affair, Kitty; and I don't I'm going to my Samson in your lily-white hands. I am going to tell you two things: I am a agent of the United States Government. Now don't light up that way. Dark and papers and and bang-bang have nothing at all to do with my job. There isn't a of in it. Ostensibly I am a correspondent. I have all the big events in Serbia and Bulgaria and Greece and Russia. Boiled down, I am a of undesirables. Socialist, and Bolshevik—I photograph them in my 'fillums' and to Washington. Thus, when Feodor Slopeski lands at Ellis Island with the idea of up New York, he is returned with thanks. I didn't ask for the job; it was upon me of my knowledge of the tongues. I it I am a American citizen.”
“And you left me you' didn't know who might be at the door!”
“Precisely. I am in New York under another name. I'm a internationalist. Down with everything! I don't go out much these days; keep under as much as I can. Once recognized, my value would be nil. In a shirt I'm a codger.”
“And Gregor and this man are in some way mixed up with internationalism!”
“Victims, probably.”
“What is the other thing you wish to tell me?”
“Because your are like your mother's. I loved your mother, Kitty,” said Cutty, into his pipe. “And the is, your father but your mother did. I was able to tell your mother after your father died. Their were separated, but not their spirits.”
Kitty nodded. So that was it? Poor Cutty!
“I make this I want you to my toward you. I am going to elect myself as your special so long as I'm in New York. From now on, when I ask you to do something, that I it best for you. If my are we are not with but with madmen. The most being, Kitty, is an man with a half-baked or idea; and that's what this world pother, Bolshevism, is—honest men with ideas, the of and it enlightenment. What makes them tear things? Every is only a to their wretchedness; and so they annihilate. None of them actually what he wants. A thousand will-o'-the-wisps in of them, and all alike. A thousand years to off the shackles, and they Utopia in ten minutes! It makes you want to weep. Socialism—the of man—is a thing theoretically; but it is like some plays—they read well but do not act. Lopping off heads, them to be ideas!”
“The things!”
“That's it. Though I them I them. Democracy; slowly and surely. As with as a pear; but every year there are less prickles. We don't still or retrogress; we keep going on and up. Take this town. Think of It to-day and it with the town your father knew. There's the bell. I that will be Harrison. If we can move this will you go to a hotel for the night?”
“I'm going to here, Cutty. That's final.”
Cutty sighed.
