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and don't turn；〃 went on the gruff voice。 〃If I shoot it will be
to kill。 It is a rough game； as you say。 That's it； and keep them
up。 Now； then； young lady； slip on your kimono。 Get up and search
these men。 I'm in a hurry； too。〃
Kitty obeyed； very lovely in her dishevelment。 Repugnant as the
task was she disarmed the two men and flung their weapons on the bed。
〃Now something to tie their hands； anything that will hold。〃
Kitty could see the speaker now。 Another coal heaver； but evidently
on her side。
〃Tie their hands behind them。。。 I warn you not to move； men。 When
I say I'll shoot I mean it。 Don't be afraid of hurting them； miss。
Very good。 Now bandage their eyes。 Handkerchiefs。〃
But Kitty's handkerchiefs did not run to the dimensions' required；
so she ripped up a petticoat。 Torn between her eagerness to
complete a disagreeable task and her offended modesty； Kitty went
through the performance with creditable alacrity。 Then she jumped
back into bed； doubled her knees； and once more drew up the
bedclothes to her chin； content to be a spectator； her eyes as wide
as ever they possibly could be。
Some secret…service man Cutty had sent to protect her。 Dear old
Cutty！ Small wonder he had urged her to spend the night at a hotel。
The admiration of her childhood returned； but without the shackles
of shyness。 She had always trusted him absolutely； and to this
trust was now added understanding。 To have him pop into her life
again in this fashion； all the ordinary approaches to intimacy
wiped out by these amazing episodes； the years bridged in an hour！
If only he were younger！
〃Watch them； miss。 Don't be afraid to shoot。 I'll return in a
moment〃 … still gruffly。 The secret…service man pushed his
prisoners into chairs and left the bedroom。
Kitty did not care how gruff the voice was； it was decidedly pleasant
in her ears。 Gingerly she picked up one of ；the revolvers。 Kitty
Conover with shooting irons in her hands； like a movie actress！ She
heard a whistle。 After this an interval of silence； save for the
ticking of the alarm clock on the stand。 She eyed the blindfolded
men speculatively； swung out of bed； and put on her stockings and
sandals； then she sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the
sequence。 Kitty Conover was going to have some queer recollections
to tell her grandchildren； providing she had any。 That morning she
had risen to face a humdrum normal day。 And here she was； at
midnight； hobnobbing with quiescent murder and sudden death！
To…morrow Burlingame would ask her to hustle up the Sunday stuff；
and she would hustle。 She wanted to laugh； but was a little afraid
that this laughter might degenerate into incipient hysteria。
There was still in her mind a vivid recollection of her dream … the
fire of diamonds and the blonde girl with the tiara of rubies。 Olga；
Olga！ Russian； the whole affair was Russian。 She shivered。 Always
that land and people had appeared to her in sinister aspect； no
doubt an impression acquired from reading melodramas written by
Englishmen who； once upon a time； had given Russia preeminence as a
political menace。 Russia； in all things … music； art； literature
… the tragic note。 Stefani Gregor and Johnny Two…Hawks had roused
the enmity of some political society with this result。 Nihilist or
Bolshevist or socialist； there was little choice； and Cutty sensibly
did not want her drawn into the whirlpool。
What a pleasant intimacy hers and Cutty's promised to be！ And if
he hadn't casually dropped into the office that afternoon she would
have surrendered the affair to the police； and that would have been
the end of it。 Amazing thought … you might jog along all your life
at the side of a person and never know him half so well as someone
you met m a tense episode； like that of the immaculate Cutty
crossing the fire escape with Two…Hawks on his shoulders！
She heard the friendly coal heaver going down the corridor to the
door。 When he returned to the bedroom two men accompanied him。 Not
a word was said。 The two men marched off with the prisoners and
left Kitty alone with her saviour。
〃Thank you；〃 she said； simply。
〃You poor little chicken； did you believe I had deserted you？〃 The
voice wasn't gruff now。
〃Cutty？〃 Kitty ran to him； flinging her arms round his neck。 〃Oh；
Cutty！〃
Cutty's heart； which had bumped along an astonishing number of
million times in fifty…two years； registered a memorable bump against
his ribs。 The touch of her soft arms and the faint； indescribable
perfume which emanates from a dainty woman's hair thrilled him beyond
any thrill he had ever known。 For Kitty's mother had never put her
arms round old Cutty's neck。 Of course he understood readily enough：
Molly's girl； flesh of her flesh。 And she had rushed to him as she
would have rushed to her father。 He patted her shoulder clumsily；
still a little dazzled for all the revelation in the analysis。 The
sweet intimacy of it！ The door of Paradise opened for a moment； and
then shut in his face。
〃I did not recognize you at all！〃 she cried； standing off。 〃I
shouldn't have known you on the street。 And it is so simple。 What
a wonderful man you are！〃
〃For an old codger？〃 Cutty's heart registered another sizable bump。
Kitty laughed。 〃Never call yourself old to me again。 Are you
always doing these things？〃
〃Well； I keep moving。 I suspected something like this might happen。
Those two will go to the Tombs to await deportation if they are
aliens。 Perhaps we can dig something out of them relative to this
man Gregor。 Anyhow； we'll try。〃
〃Cutty； I saw a man in the court with a pocket lamp before I went
to bed。 He was hunting for something。〃
〃I didn't find anything but a lot of fresh food someone had thrown
out。〃
〃It was you； then？〃
〃Yes。 There was a vague possibility that your protege might have
thrown out something valuable during the struggle。〃
〃What？〃
〃Lord knows！ A queer business； Kitty； you've lugged me into … my
own！ And there is one thing I want you to remember particularly：
Life means nothing to the men opposed； neither chivalry nor ethics。
Annihilation is their business。 They don't want civilization； they
want chaos。 They have lost the sense of comparisons or they would
not seek to thrust Bolshevism down the throats of the rest of the
world。 They say democracy has failed； and their substitute is murder
and loot。 Kitty； I want you to leave this roost。〃
〃I shall stay until my lease expires。〃
〃Why？ In the face of real danger？〃
〃Because I intend to； Cutty … unless you kidnap me。〃
〃Have you any good reason？〃
〃You'll laugh； but something tells me to stay here。〃
But Cutty did not laugh。 〃Very well。 Tomorrow an assistant janitor
will be installed。 His name is Antonio Bernini。 Every night he
will whistle up the tube。 Whistle back。 If you are going out for
the evening notify him where you intend to go and when you expect
to be back。 A wire from your bed to his cot 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 believe anything more will happen
to…night； but from now on you will be watched。 Never come directly
to my apartment。 Break your journey two or three times with taxis。
Always use Elevator Four。 The boy is mine； belongs to the service。
So our Bolshevik friends won't gather anything about you from him。〃
As a matter of fact； Cutty had now come to the conviction that it
would be well to let Kitty remain here as a lure。 He had urged her
to leave； and she had refused； so his conscience was tolerably clear。
Besides； she would henceforth be guarded with a ceaseless efficiency
second only to that which encompasses a President of the United
States。 Always some man of the service would be watching those
who watched her。 This was going to develop into a game of small
nets； one or two victims at a time。 Because these enemies of
civilization lacked coherence in action there would be slim chance
of rounding them up in bulk。 But from now on men would vanish … one
here； a pair there； perhaps on occasion four or five。 And those who
had known them would know them no more。 The policy would be that
employed by the British in the submarine campaign … mysterious
silence after the evanishment。
〃It's all so exciting！〃 said Kitty。 〃But that poor old man Gregor！
He had a wonderful violin； Cutty； and sometimes I used to hear him
play folklore music … sad； haunting melodies。〃
〃We'll know in a little while what's become of him。 I doubt there
is a foreign organization in the city that hasn't one or more of
our men on the inside。 A word will be dropped somewhere。 I'm
rarely active on this side of the Atlantic； and what I'm doing now
is practically due to interest。 But every active operative in New
York； Boston； Philadelphia； and Chicago is on the lookout for a
man who； if left free； will stir up a lot of trouble。 He has
leadership； this Boris Karlov； a former intimate here of Trotzky's。
We have reason to believe that he slipped through the net in San
Francisco。 Probably under a cleverly forged passport。 Now please
describe the