Kitty did not herself at once. She wasn't sure that this was not a of her nightmare. She that had a way of off in the middle of things, of anywhere. The room looked natural and the pain in her enough, but one tell. She to wait for the next episode.
“Answer!” the of the two, Kitty's shoulder. “Where did they take him?”
Awake! Kitty her away and the up to her chin. She was frightened, but her brain was clear. The of self-preservation and about in search of expediencies, temporizations. She must come through this somehow with the on her side. She not possibly that man, for that would the of Cutty also. She saw but one avenue, the telephone; and these two men were on the of the bed, her and the door.
“What do you want?” Her was so she the were for them to hear.
“We want the address of the man you 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 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 you, and we you will not us.
“Will you step out of the room while I dress?”
“No. Tell us where the man lives, and you can have the whole to yourself.”
“You speak English very well.”
“Enough! Do you want us to you up in the and you off? It will not be a for a woman like yourself. Something to the man you as Gregory. Will that make you understand?”
“You know what means?”
“Your police will not catch us.”
“But I might give you the address.”
“Try it and see what happens. Young lady, this is a for a woman to be mixed up in. Be sensible. We are in a hurry.”
“Well, you to have at least one American habit!” said a voice from the doorway. “Raise your hands quickly, and don't turn,” on the voice. “If I shoot it will be to kill. It is a game, as you say. That's it; and keep them up. Now, then, lady, on your kimono. Get up and search these men. I'm in a hurry, too.”
Kitty obeyed, very in her dishevelment. Repugnant as the was she the two men and their on the bed.
“Now something to tie their hands; anything that will hold.”
Kitty see the now. Another heaver, but on her side.
“Tie their hands them... I you not to move, men. When I say I'll shoot I it. Don't be of them, miss. Very good. Now their eyes. Handkerchiefs.”
But Kitty's did not to the dimensions' required; so she up a petticoat. Torn her to complete a and her modesty, Kitty through the performance with alacrity. Then she jumped into bed, her knees, and once more up the to her chin, to be a spectator, her as wide as they possibly be.
Some secret-service man Cutty had sent to protect her. Dear old Cutty! Small wonder he had her to the night at a hotel. The of her returned, but without the of shyness. She had always him absolutely, and to this trust was now added understanding. To have him into her life again in this fashion, all the ordinary to out by these episodes; the years in an hour! If only he were younger!
“Watch them, miss. Don't be to shoot. I'll return in a moment”—still gruffly. The secret-service man pushed his into chairs and left the bedroom.
Kitty did not how the voice was; it was in her ears. Gingerly she up one of the revolvers. Kitty Conover with in her hands, like a movie actress! She a whistle. After this an of silence, save for the of the clock on the stand. She the men speculatively, out of bed, and put on her and sandals; then she sat on the of the and waited for the sequence. Kitty Conover was going to have some to tell her grandchildren, providing she had any. That she had to a normal day. And here she was, at midnight, with and death! To-morrow Burlingame would ask her to up the Sunday stuff, and she would hustle. She wanted to laugh, but was a little that this might into hysteria.
There was still in her mind a of her dream—the fire of diamonds and the girl with the of rubies. Olga, Olga! Russian; the whole was Russian. She shivered. Always that land and people had appeared to her in aspect; no an from reading by Englishmen who, once upon a time, had Russia as a political menace. Russia, in all things—music, art, literature—the note. Stefani Gregor and Johnny Two-Hawks had the of some political with this result. Nihilist or Bolshevist or socialist, there was little choice; and Cutty did not want her into the whirlpool.
What a hers and Cutty's promised to be! And if he hadn't into the office that she would have the to the police, and that would have been the end of it. Amazing thought—you might along all your life at the of a person and know him so well as someone you met m a episode, like that of the Cutty the fire with Two-Hawks on his shoulders!
She the going the to the door. When he returned to the two men him. Not a word was said. The two men off with the and left Kitty alone with her saviour.
“Thank you,” she said, simply.
“You little chicken, did you I had you?” The voice wasn't now.
“Cutty?” Kitty ran to him, her arms his neck. “Oh, Cutty!”
Cutty's heart, which had along an number of times in fifty-two years, registered a against his ribs. The touch of her soft arms and the faint, perfume which from a woman's him any he had known. For Kitty's mother had put her arms old Cutty's neck. Of he enough: Molly's girl, of her flesh. And she had to him as she would have to her father. He her clumsily, still a little for all the in the analysis. The sweet of it! The door of Paradise opened for a moment, and then in his face.
“I did not you at all!” she cried, off. “I shouldn't have you on the street. And it is so simple. What a man you are!”
“For an old codger?” Cutty's registered another bump.
Kitty laughed. “Never call old to me again. Are you always doing these things?”
“Well, I keep moving. I something like this might happen. Those two will go to the Tombs to if they are aliens. Perhaps we can something out of them relative to this man Gregor. Anyhow, we'll try.”
“Cutty, I saw a man in the with a pocket lamp I to bed. He was for something.”
“I didn't anything but a of fresh food someone had out.”
“It was you, then?”
“Yes. There was a possibility that your might have out something valuable the struggle.”
“What?”
“Lord knows! A business, Kitty, you've me into—my own! And there is one thing I want you to particularly: Life means nothing to the men opposed, neither ethics. Annihilation is their business. They don't want civilization; they want chaos. They have the of or they would not to Bolshevism the of the of the world. They say has failed, and their is and loot. Kitty, I want you to this roost.”
“I shall until my expires.”
“Why? In the of danger?”
“Because I to, Cutty—unless you me.”
“Have you any good reason?”
“You'll laugh; but something tells me to here.”
But Cutty did not laugh. “Very well. Tomorrow an will be installed. His name is Antonio Bernini. Every night he will up the tube. Whistle back. If you are going out for the him where you to go and when you to be back. A wire from your to his 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 anything more will to-night, but from now on you will be watched. Never come directly to my apartment. Break your two or three times with taxis. Always use Elevator Four. The boy is mine; to the service. So our Bolshevik friends won't anything about you from him.”
As a of fact, Cutty had now come to the that it would be well to let Kitty here as a lure. He had her to leave, and she had refused, so his was clear. Besides, she would be with a second only to that which a President of the United States. Always some man of the service would be those who her. This was going to into a game of small nets, one or two at a time. Because these of in action there would be of them up in bulk. But from now on men would vanish—one here, a pair there, on occasion four or five. And those who had them would know them no more. The policy would be that by the British in the campaign—mysterious after the evanishment.
“It's all so exciting!” said Kitty. “But that old man Gregor! He had a violin, Cutty; and sometimes I used to him play music—sad, melodies.”
“We'll know in a little while what's of him. I there is a organization in the city that hasn't one or more of our men on the inside. A word will be somewhere. I'm active on this of the Atlantic; and what I'm doing now is to interest. But every active in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and Chicago is on the for a man who, if left free, will up a of trouble. He has leadership, this Boris Karlov, a here of Trotzky's. We have to that he through the in San Francisco. Probably under a passport. Now the man who came in with the policeman. I haven't had time to make at the precinct, where they will have a minute of him.”
“He me think of a gorilla, just as I told you. His was well up. Naturally I did not notice any scar. A black beard, shaven.”
“Squat, powerful, like a gorilla. Lord, I wish I'd had a of him! He's one of the I haven't met. He's the spark, the hand on the plunger. The is all in this land of ours; our job is to keep off the until we can spread the so it will only go of bang. This man Karlov is medicine for democracy. Poor devil!”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I'm sorry for them. This Karlov has suffered. He is now a of nothing will cure. He and his have their ends in Russia, but the to kill and and is still unchecked. Sorry, yes; but we can't have them here. They me of nothing so much as those deep-sea in one of Kipling's tales, up into air and by a volcano, and bellowing. But we can't have them here any longer. Keep those under your pillow. All you have to do is to point. Nobody will know that you can't shoot. And always remember, we're 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 in public. If that was Karlov you will be marked, and so will any one who with you.”
“Good gracious!”
“Fact. But come up to the roost—changing taxis—to-morrow at five and have tea.”
Down in the Cutty into the rain, no longer a drizzle. With his hands in his pockets and his on the he downtown, in a of mind, had he been he would not have it.
Molly Conover's girl! That it had been Tommy Conover's girl; now she was Molly's. It to him for the time that he was one of those who are always able to open the door to Paradise for others and are themselves to outside. Hadn't he Conover to Molly, and hadn't they in love on the spot? Too old to be a hero and not old to die. He grinned. Some day he would use that line.
Of it wasn't Kitty who set this in motion. It wasn't her arms and the perfume of her hair. The had come from a of a passion; anyhow, a that had been all these years. Still, it offered a prospect. He was to that he would be in for some in trying to the from the quick.
Most were flitter-flutters, unstable, shallow, immature. But this little lady had depth, the of the 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 its salt was the that laughed when happy and when hurt.
The woman, into his arms the way she had, would not have him in the least. And upon the of this came a taste of the he saw in store for himself. Was it the or Kitty? He jumped to another to the impasse. Kitty's to him in that fashion an suggestion. He looked fatherly, no how he felt. Hang these fifty-two years, to come his all at once!
He his and laughed. He now. At nine that night he had been to deliver a lecture on the Italo-Jugoslav a audience in the of a famous hotel! He would have some to do in the morning.
He into a doorway, then out cautiously. There was not a single in sight. No need of any in this rain; so he for a taxi. To-morrow he would set the relative to old Stefani Gregor. Boris Karlov, if it were he, would lead the way. Hadn't Stefani and Boris been friends, and hadn't Stefani the in some political affair? He wasn't sure; but a among his 1912 notes would clear up the fog.
But that chap! Who was he? Cutty set his of logical moving. Karlov—always that was Karlov—had come in from the west. So had the man. Gregor's had been toward the aristocracy; at least, that had been the impression. A Bolshevik would not with a man like Gregor, as this man had. But Two-Hawks him; the name him, it had no either in English or in Russian. And yet he was sure he had it somewhere. Perhaps his notes would some light on that subject, too.
When he home Miss Frances, the nurse, him that the patient was in an tongue. For a long time Cutty by the bedside, translating.
“Olga!... Olga!... And she gave me food, Stefani, this American girl. Never must we 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 he say?” asked the nurse.
“It is Russian. Is it a crisis?” he evaded.
“Not necessarily. Doctor Harrison said he would return to to-morrow. But he must have quiet. No visitors. A blow, but not of consequence. I've hundreds of cases much out in a fortnight. You'd go to bed, sir.”
“All right,” said Cutty, gratefully. He was tired. The did not as it used to; the was out. But look alive, there! Big events were toward, and he must not stop to of his pulse.
Three o'clock in the morning.
The man in the Gregor sat on the bed, the pocket lamp from his fingers. Not a or in the had he overlooked. In every cupboard, drawer; in the and under; the trunks; the and the pictures; the and in the closets. What he he had not found.
His would not be complete without those green in his hands. Anna would call from her grave. Pretty little Anna, who had Stefani Gregor, and gone to her doom.
All these thousands of miles, by and crook, by passports, by of money, nights and days—for this! The last of that branch of the out of his reach, and the vanished! A had taken in his brain; he it now for the time. The of those would be a from God to go on. Green for bread! Green for bread! The of jeopardy! In his hands they would be talismanic.
But wait! That girl across the way. Supposing he had the to her? Or them there without her being aware of it?
