the drums of jeopardy- 第43部分

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　ba