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better than anything Kuroki makes。。。。 Tastes better； too。 You're
going to make some lucky duffer a fine wife。〃
〃Is there anything you can tell me； Cutty？〃
〃A whole lot； Kitty； only I'm twenty years too old。〃
〃I mean the wallet。 Who is he？〃
Cutty drained the cup slowly。 A good coherent lie； to appease
Kitty's curiosity； half a truth； something hard to nail。 He set
down the empty cup； building。 By the time he had filled his pipe
and lit it he was ready。
Something bored up through the subconscious； however … a query。 Why
hadn't he told her the plain truth at the start？ Wasn't on account
of the drums。 He hadn't kept her in the dark because of the drums。
He could have trusted her with that part of it … his tentative
piracy。 That to divulge Hawksley's identity would be a menace to
her peace of mind now appeared ridiculous； and yet he had worked
forward from this assumption。 No answer to the query。 Generally
he thought clearly enough； but somewhere along this route he had
made a muddle of things and couldn't find the spot。 The only point
clearly defined was that he should wish to keep her out of the
affair because there were elements of positive danger。 But somewhere
inside of him was a question asking for recognition； and it eluded
him。 Nothing could be solved until this question got out of the fog。
Even now he might risk the whole truth； but the lie he had woven
appeared too good to waste。
Human frailty。 The most accomplished human being is the finished
liar。 Never to forget a detail； to remember step by step the
windings； over a ticklish road。 And Cutty； for all his wide
newspaper experience； was a poor liar because he had been brought
up on facts。 Perhaps his lie might have passed had he not been so
fagged。 The physical labours of the night had dulled his
perceptions。
〃Ab； but that tastes good！〃 … as he blew forth a wavering ring of
smoke。
〃It ought to have at least one merit；〃 replied Kitty； wrinkling her
nose。 What a fine profile Cutty had！ 〃Now； who and what is he？
I'm dying to know。〃
〃An odd story； probably hundreds like it。 You see； the Bolsheviki
have driven out of the country or killed all the nobles and
bourgeoisie。 Some of them have escaped … into China； Sweden； India；
wherever they could find an open route。 To his story there are many
loose ends； and Hawksley is not the talking kind。 You mustn't repeat
what I tell you。 Hawksley； with all that money and a forged English
passport； would have a good deal of trouble explaining if he ran
afoul the police。 There is no real proof that the money is his or
Gregor's。 As a matter of fact； it is Gregor's； and Hawksley was
bringing it to him。 Hawksley is Gregor's protege。〃
Kitty nodded。 This dovetailed with what Johnny Two…Hawks had told
her that night。
〃How the two came together originally I don't know。 Gregor was in
his younger days a great violinist； but unknown to the American
public。 Early in his career he speculated with his concert earnings
and turned a pot of money。 He dropped the professional career for
that of a country gentleman。 He had a handsome estate； and lived
sensibly。 He sent Hawksley to England to school and spent a good
deal of time there with him； teaching him how to play the fiddle；
for which it seems Hawksley had a natural bent。 He had to Anglicize
his name； for Two…Hawks would have made people laugh。 To be a
gentleman； Kitty； one does not have to be a prince or a grand duke。
Gregor was a polished gentleman； and he turned Hawksley into one。〃
Again Kitty nodded； her eyes sparkling。
〃The Russ … the educated Russ … is a queer biscuit。 Got to have a
finger in some political pie； and political pies in Russia before
the war were lese…majesty。 The result … Gregor got in wrong with
his secret society and the political police and was forced to fly
to save his life。 But before he fled he had all his convertible
funds transferred。 Only his estate was confiscated。 Hawksley was
in London when the war broke out。 There was a lot of red tape；
naturally； regarding the funds。 I shan't bother you with that；
Hawksley； hoping to better his protector's future； returned to
Russia and joined his regiment and fought until the Czar abdicated。
Foretasting the trend of events； he tried to get back to England；
but that was impossible。 He was permitted to retire to the Gregor
estate； where he remained until the uprising of the Bolsheviki。
Then he started across the world to join Gregor。〃
〃That was brave。〃
〃It certainly was。 I imagine that Hawksley's journey has that of
Ulysses laid away on the shelf。 Karlov was the head of the
society which had voted Gregor's death。 So he had agents watching
Hawksley。 And Karlov himself undertook the chase across Russia；
China； and the Pacific。〃
〃I'm glad I gave him something to eat。 But Gregor； a valet in a
hotel； with all that money！〃
〃The red tape。〃
〃What a dizzy world we live in； Cutty！〃
〃Dizzy is the word。〃 Cutty sighed。 His yarn had passed a very shrewd
censor。 〃Karlov feels it his duty to kill off all his countryman
who do not agree with his theories。 He wanted these funds here； but
Hawksley was too clever for him。 Remember； now； not a word of this
to Hawksley。 I tell you this in confidence。〃
〃I promise。〃
〃You'll have to spend the night here。 It's round four； and the power
has been shut off。 There's the stairs； but it would be dawn before
you reach the street。〃
〃Who cares？〃
〃I do。 I don't believe you're in a good mood to send back to that
garlicky warren。 I wish to the Lord you'd leave it！〃
〃It's difficult to find anything desirable within my means。 Rents
are terrifying。 I'll sleep on the divan。 A rug or a blanket。 I'm
a silly fool； I suppose。〃
〃You can have a guest room。〃
〃I'd rather the divan； less scandalous。 Cutty； I forgot。 He played
for me。〃
〃What？ He did？〃
〃I had to run out of the room because some things he said choked me
up。 Didn't care whether he died or not。 He was even lonelier than
I。 I lay down on the divan； and then I heard music。 Funny； but
somehow I fancied he was calling me back； and I had to hang on to
the divan。 Cutty； he is a great violinist。〃
〃Are you fond of music？〃
〃I am mad about it！ I'm always running round to concerts； and I'd
walk from Battery to Bronx to hear a good violinist。〃
Fiddles and Irish hearts。 Swiftly came the vision of Hawksley
fiddling the heart out of this lonely girl … if he had the chance。
And he； Cutty； was going to fascinate her … with what？ He rose and
took her by the shoulders； bringing her round so that the light was
full in her face。 Slate…blue eyes。
〃Kitty； what would you say if I kissed you？〃 Inwardly he asked：
〃Now； what the devil made me say that？〃
The sinister and cynical idea leaped from its ambush。 〃Why； Cutty；
I … I don't believe I should mind。 It's … it's you！〃 Vile wretch
that she was！
Cutty； noting the lily succeeding the rose； did not kiss her。 Fate
has a way of reversing the illogical and giving it logical semblance。
It was perfectly logical that he should not kiss her； and yet that
was exactly what he should have done。 The fatherliness of the
salute … and he couldn't have made it anything else … would have
shamed Kitty's peculiar state of mind out of existence and probably
sent back to its eternal sleep that which was strangely reawaking
in his lonely heart。
〃Forgive me； Kitty。 That wasn't exactly nice of me； even if I was
trying to be funny。〃
She tore away from him； flung herself upon the divan； her face in
the pillows； and let down the dam。
This wild sobbing … apparently without any reason terrified Cutty。
He put both hands into his hair； but he drew them out immediately
without retaining any of the thinning gray locks。 Done up； both of
them； that was the matter。 He longed to console her； but knew not
what to say or how to act。 He had not seen a woman weep like this
in so many years that he had forgotten the remedies。
Should he call the nurse？ But that would only add to Kitty's
embarrassment； and the nurse would naturally misinterpret the
situation。 He couldn't kneel and put his arms round her； and yet
it was a situation that called for arms and endearments。 He had
sense enough to recognize that。 Molly's girl crying like that； and
he able to do nothing！ It was intolerable。 But what was she
weeping about？
Covering the divan was a fine piece of Bokhara embroidery。 He drew
this down over Kitty and tucked her in； turned off the light； and
proceeded to
his bedroom。
Kitty's sobs died eventually。 There was an occasional hiccup。 That；
too； disappeared。 To play … or even think of playing … a game like
that！ She was despicable。 A silly little fool； too； to suppose
that so keen a mind as Cutty's would not see through the artifice！
What was happening to her that she could let such a thought into her
head？
By and by she was able to pick up Cutty's narrative and review it。
Not a word about the drums of jeopardy； the mark of the thong
round Hawksley's neck。 Hadn't she let him know that she knew the
author of that advertisement offering to buy the drums； no
questions asked？ Ve