Kitty came home at nine that night, tired. She had that day been by so many emotions. She had viewed the from the of a agency, and she had and like else. Her still smarted, and her her every time she what she had seen. Those boys!
Loneliness. She had downtown, and on the way home the had her. Loneliness. Never had these rooms so empty, empty. If God had only her a and he had in that parade, what fun they two would be having at this moment! Empty rooms; not a pet.
Loneliness. She had been a little to so aloof, just she was and in a locality. She herself. Poor but proud, like the in the movies. Denied herself she was of her 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 she had attractions. Just a false pride. The best friends in the world, after a series of rebuffs, would away. Her mother's friends called any more, of her aloofness. She had only a girl friends, and these no were to think her uppish.
She did not take off her and coat. She through the empty rooms, undecided. If she to a movie the rooms would be just as when she returned. Companionship. The of it was so that there was a to call up someone, someone she had rebuffed. She was in the mood to and to make an attempt to start all over again—to accept and let go hang. Impulsively she started for the telephone, when the rang.
Immediately the of away. Another chapter in the great game of and that had her from until to-night? The a new message these days. Nine o'clock. Who be calling at that hour? She had to Cutty of the that someone had gone through the apartment. She not positively the fact. Those articles in her she herself might have disturbed. She might have taken a in a hurry, for something under the impatiently. Still she not herself of the that hands had been her belongings. Not Bernini, decidedly.
Remembering Cutty's about opening the door with her against it, she out. No of Bolshevisim here. A little messenger boy with a long box in his arms called her name.
“Miz Conover?”
“Yes.”
The boy the box into her hands and to the stairhead. Kitty the door and ran into the room, open the box as she ran. Roses from Cutty; she it. The old darling! Just when she was on the of and crying! She let the box to the and the flowers to her heart, her filling. Cutty.
One of those ideas which or another into the minds of all who are into hers—an idea such as an woman might over, only to reject. Sinister and cynical. Kitty was at this moment in a of mind. Those two characteristics, which she had valiantly—love of good times and of clothes—made easy for this and idea. Having a it pressed boldly. Cutty, who had everything—strength, comeliness, wisdom, and money. To live among all those things, to be again, to be waited on, over, much of, taken into the high world. Never more to add up accounts, to five-dollar across the of seven days. An old man's darling!
“No, no, no!” she out, passionately. She a hand across her eyes. As if that out an 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 and a cheat. But he is so nice! If he did want me!... No, no! Just for comforts! I couldn't! What a I am!”
She up the copper and still the roses to her heart, the her cheeks, out to the for water. She the green into the jug, her in the to the on her cheeks, and remembered—what a thing the mind was!—that she had three shirt to iron. She set the on the table, where it for many hours, and walked over to the range, to the shelf. As she for a her hand stopped in midair.
A black wallet! Instantly she who had it there. That Johnny Two-Hawks!
Kitty out the from the flatirons. No of it, Johnny Two-Hawks had it there when she had gone to the speaking to the janitor. Not if he would call for it! Preferring that she than his should have it. And without a word! What a yet place; and but for the need of a the would have there until she moved. Left it there, with the that he was into trouble. But what if they had killed him? How would she have the wallet's presence in her apartment? Good gracious, what an escape!
Without direct she the flap. She saw the of money and documents; but she did not touch anything. There was no need. She it to Johnny Two-Hawks. Of there was an attraction. The was, figuratively, to be investigated. But she closed the flap. Why? Because it was as though Two-Hawks had the in her hands, her to it against the day he it. There was no proof that the was his. She just knew, that was all.
Still, she the carefully. In one had been originally a or a crest; by the of fire.
Who he was and what he was, by a turn of the wrist. It was Cutty's now, not hers. He had a legal right to the contents. He was an agent of the Federal Government. The of and Stefani Gregor and Johnny Two-Hawks, all interwoven. She had waited in for Cutty to mention the emeralds. What his silence? She had him of the that she the author of that 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 the drums, and Karlov's men had them from their victim's the battle. Was there any why Cutty should not have taken her into his confidence? Palaces looted. If Stefani Gregor had in a palace, why not his protege? Still, it was possible Cutty was until he tell her everything.
But what to do with it? If she called him up and her discovery, Cutty would up as fast as a him. He had ordered her not to come to his for the present. But to here and wait, to be alone again after he had gone! It was not to be borne. Orders or no orders, she would the to him. He lecture her as much as he pleased. To-night, at least, she would her part as in the drama. It would give her something to do, keep her mind off herself. Nothing but would her out of this semi-hysterical doldrum.
She the in the pocket of her underskirt. Already her blood was to dance. She ran into her for two veils, a and one of those black with over it, as as a mask. She the about her hat. When the right moment came she would the and the black veil. Her was of dark blue, with steel-gray taffeta. Turned out it would any man. She spats. These she would when she the change.
Someone might her as as the Knickerbocker, but there, never. She was sorry, but she not Bernini. He might object, Cutty, and everything.
By the time she the her. The was gone. The and idea had apparently. Apparently. Merely it had a place and was to there for the present. Such ideas are not without of retreat; they know the hours of attack. Kitty was alive to but one fact: The game of and was on again. She was going to have some excitement. She was going into the night on an adventure, as children play at in the dark. The in her still rejected the that the and of this were and and pain.
En to the Subway she looked back. At Forty-second Street she detrained, walked into the Knickerbocker, entered the ladies room, her coat, her hat, her gaiters, and a taxi. Within two of Cutty's she the and the on foot.
At the left of the was an all-night apothecary's, with a door going into the lobby. Kitty to the through this avenue. Number Four was down, and she inside, her veil.
“You, miss?”
“Very important. Take me up.”
“The is out.”
“No matter. Take me up.
“You're the doctor!” What a girl she was. No come-on in her eyes, though. “The may not until morning. He just out in his engineer's togs. He sure wasn't you.
“Do you know where he went?”
“Never know. But I'll be in this bird until he comes back.”
“I shall have to wait for him.”
“Up she goes!”
As Kitty out into the a of her. She hadn't planned against Cutty's absence. There was nothing she say to the nurse; and if Johnny Two-Hawks was asleep—why, all she do would be to up on a and Cutty's return.
The nurse appeared. “You, Miss Conover?”
“Yes.” Kitty at once that she must take the nurse into her confidence. “I have a discovery. Did Cutty say when he would return?”
“No. I am not in his to that extent. But I do know that you in here.”
Kitty and produced the wallet. “Is Mr. Hawksley awake?”
“He is.”
“It that he left this in my that night. It might him up if I gave it to him.”
The nurse, the face, that it might. “Come, I've been trying to read him asleep, but he is restless. No excitement, please.”
“I'll try not to. Perhaps, after all, you had give him the wallet.”
“On the contrary, that would start a series of questions I not answer. Come along.”
When Kitty saw Hawksley she gave a little of astonishment. Why, he was positively handsome! His dark head, out against the pillows, the lines of his definite, the pallor—he was like a Roman cameo. Who and what he be, this foundling?
His into hers delightedly. For hours and hours the wonder where she was, why no one mentioned her, why they his questions. To upon his in the of his and like this! She was glorious, this American girl. She him think of a a Toledo blade. Hadn't she saved his life? More, hadn't she a in so doing? Instantly he that she should not be permitted to the office of good Samaritan. He toward the nurse's chair; and Kitty sat down, her in total eclipse.
“Just when I so lonely! Ripping!”
His quick was so that Kitty answered it—kindred spirits, each other. Fire; but neither of them that; or that two beings of opposite sex, in touch, a first-rate combustible.
Quietly the nurse withdrew. There would be a in this meeting for the patient. Her own presence might the effect. She had not all those months in without a into the needs of men. No in him have this pretty, self-reliant girl alone to himself for a of an hour. She would then return with some broth.
“How—how are you?” asked Kitty, inanely.
“Top-hole, considering. Quite to be killed all over again.”
“You mustn't talk like that!” she protested.
“Only to you I was up. Thank you for doing what you did.”
“I had to do it.”
“Most would have away and left me to my fate.”
“Not my kind.”
“Rather not! Your would its to help a cat. I say, what's that you have in your hand?”
“Good gracious!” Kitty the wallet. “It is yours, isn't it?”
“Yes. I wanted you to 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 in the world. I was hungry, and you gave me food. I wanted that to pay you. I'll you've looked into it.”
“I had no right to.”
“See!” He opened the and spread the on the counterpane. “I wasn't so as you thought. What? Cash and bonds. They would have been yours absolutely.”
“But I don't—I can't quite,” Kitty stammered—“but I couldn't have them!”
“Positively yes. You would have them to that of yours, and he would have you see.”
“Indeed, yes! He would have been to death. You man, can't you see? Circumstantial 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 requited; and I wanted to the rule. Lord, what a mix-up I'd have you in! I that you were you, that you would have gone to the authorities. Of I if I through and you the you would it to me.”
Kitty no longer had a on earth. She floated. Her brain floated, too, she not make it think for her. A fortune—for a dish of and eggs! The magnificence, the of such generosity! For a dish of and eggs and a bottle of milk! Had she left home? Hadn't she asleep, the of another nightmare? A of the a little. A took form; she wanted the nurse to come and things. In a she saw the odd man the money and and other documents to the wallet.
“I want you to give this to your 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 me on his and me up here among the clouds! Americans.... Are you all like that? And you!”
Kitty's brain to make to alight, as it were. Cutty. That gave her a touch of earth. She herself say faintly: “And what about me?”
“You were and kind. To help an unknown, like that, when you should have him over to the police! Makes me a 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, friends, who want to help you all they can.” And then with a little of humour, of the in her throat—“Who be friendless, with all that money?” Instantly she like her tongue. He would know nothing of the sad American of trying to be to keep a on its legs. He would it as heartlessness. “I didn't that!” With the Irish which in retrospection, she over and his hand.
“I say, you two!” Hawksley closed his for a second. “Wanting to up a you re that sort! All right. I'll it out! You two! And I might be the unhung!”
He her hand toward his lips, and Kitty had not the power to him. She theatrical, a in a play; for American men, in burlesque, their women's hands. The moment he the hand the old of rolled over her. She must fly. The to weep, little that she was! was through her defences. Loneliness. The two of them all alone but for Cutty. She rose, the in her hand.
Ah, had she needed that mother of hers so much as now. Tears did not to when one them into and pillows. But on that bosom, to let this flood, to the voice consoling!
“Oh, I say, now! Please!” she Johnny Two-Hawks out.
But she on blindly, against the door and almost the nurse, who was returning. Somehow she managed to the room, it was dark. Alter about she the and herself upon it. What would he think? What would the nurse think? That Kitty Conover had gone stark, crazy! And now that she was in the dark, alone, the to passed over and she with her in the pillow. But not for long.
She sat up. Music—violin music! A that her think of water, the of children. Tschaikowsky. Thrilled, she waited for the finale. Silence. Scharwenka's “Polish Dance,” with a and a fire anything she had before. Another of silence—a full of points. Then a little sketch, unfamiliar. But all at once she understood. He was her to return. She in the dark; but she she was going to 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 to-day, with all those boys in automobiles, the music and colour and excitement—have done me up. And the way I up here. And not Cutty—”
“Anything I can for you?”
“No, thanks. I'll try to a little sleep Cutty returns.”
“But he may be gone all night!”
“Will it be so very if I here?”
“You child! Go ahead and sleep. Don't to call me if you want anything. I have a mild if you would like it.”
“No, thanks. I did not know that Mr. Hawksley played.”
“Wonderfully! But it you?”
“It of makes me choky.”
“I'll tell him.”
Kitty, now at peace, among the pillows. Some great Polish violinist, who had the of the anarchist? But no; he was Russian. Cutty had that. It her that Cutty a great more than Kitty Conover; and so as she see there was no for this secrecy. She she had Cutty. Either he should tell her or she would loose, Bolshevik or no Bolshevik.
Sheep. She one over the bars, another and another. Round in the the dissolved. The next thing she she was in the light, Cutty, his arms folded, at her sombrely. There was blood on his and blood on his hands.
