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potluck that night with the anarchist who was planning to blow up
the prime minister。
Burlingame； an intimate； often exposed for Kitty's delectation the
amazing and colourful facets of Cutty's diamond…brilliant mind。
Cutty wrote authoritatively on famous gems and collected drums。
He had one of the finest collections of chrysoprase in the world。
He loved these semi…precious stones because of their unmatchable；
translucent green … like the pulp of a grape。 From Burlingame
Kitty had learned that Cutty； rather indifferent to women； carried
about with him the photographs … large size … of famous professional
beauties and a case filled with polished chrysoprase。 He would lay
a photograph on a table and adorn the lovely throat with astonishing
necklaces and the head with wonderful tiaras； all the while his
brain at work with some intricate political puzzle。
And he collected drums。 The walls of his apartment … part of the
loft of a midtown office building … were covered with a most
startling assortment of drums： drums of war； of the dance； of the
temples of the feast； ancient and modern； some of them dreadful
looking objects； as Kitty had cause to remember。
Though Cutty had known her father and mother intimately； Kitty was
a comparative stranger。 He recollected seeing her perhaps a dozen
times。 She had been a shy child； not given to climbing over
visitors' knees； not the precocious offspring of the average
theatrical mother。 So in the past he had somewhat overlooked her。
Then one day recently he had dropped in to see Burlingame and had
seen Kitty instead； which accounts for his presence here this day。
Neither Kitty nor Burlingame suspected the true attraction。 The
dramatic editor accepted the advent as a peculiar compliment to
himself。 And it is to be doubted if Cutty himself realized that
there was a true magnetic pole in this cubbyhole of a room。
Kitty； however； had vivid recollections。 Actually the first strange
man she had ever met。 But not having been visible on her horizon；
except in flashes； she knew of the man only what she had read and
what Burlingame had casually offered during discussions。
〃Well； anyhow；〃 said Burlingame； complacently； 〃the war is over。
Cutty smiled indulgently。 〃That's the trouble with us chaps who
tramp round the world for news。 We can't bamboozle ourselves like
you folks who stay at home。 The war was only the first phase。
There's a mess over there； wanting something and not knowing exactly
what； those millions； milling cattle； with neither shed nor pasture。
The Lord only knows how long it will take to clarify。 Would you
mind if I smoked？〃
〃Wow！〃 cried Burlingame。
〃Not at all；〃 answered Kitty。 〃I don't see how any pipe could be
worse than Mr。 Burlingame's。〃
〃I apologize；〃 said the dramatic editor； humbly。
〃You needn't；〃 replied the girl。 She turned to the war correspondent。
〃Any new drums？〃
〃I remember that day。 You were scared half to death at my walls。〃
〃Small wonder！ I was only twelve； and I dreamed of cannibals for
weeks。〃
〃Drums！ I wonder if any living man has heard a greater variety
than I？ What a lot of them！ I have heard them calling a jehad in
the Sudan。 Tumpi…tum…tump！ tumpitum…tump！ Makes a white man's
hair stand up when he hears it in the night。 I don't know what it
is； but the sound drives the Oriental mad。 And that reminds me
… I've had them in mind all day … the drums of jeopardy！〃
〃What an odd phrase！ And what are the drums of jeopardy？〃 asked
Kitty； leaning on her arms。 Odd； but suddenly she felt a longing
to go somewhere； thousands and thousands of miles away。 She had
never been west of Chicago or east of Boston。 Until this moment
she had never felt the call of the blood … her father's。 Cocoanut
palms and birds of paradise！ And drums in the night going
tumpi…tum…tump！ tumpi…tum…tump！
〃I've always been mad over green things；〃 began Cutty。 〃A wheat
field in the spring； leafing maples。 It's Nature's choice and mine。
My passion is emeralds； and I haven't any because those I want are
beyond reach。 They are owned by the great houses of Europe and
Asia； and lie in royal caskets； or did。 If I could go into a mine
and find an emerald as big as my fist I should be only partly happy
if it chanced to be of fine colour。 In a little while I should lose
interest in it。 It wouldn't be alive； if you can get what I mean。
Just as a man would rather have a homely woman to talk to than a
beautiful window dummy to admire。 A stone to interest me must have
a story … a story of murder and loot； of beautiful women； palaces。
〃Br…r…r！〃 cried Burlingame。
〃Why； I've seen emeralds I would steal with half a chance。 I
couldn't help it。 Fact；〃 declared Cutty； earnestly。 〃Think of
the loot in the Romanoff palaces！ What's become of all those
magnificent stones？ In a little while they'll be turning up in
Amsterdam to be cut … some of them。 Or maybe Mister Bolsheviki's
inamorata will be stringing them round her neck。 Loot。〃
〃But the drums of jeopardy！〃 said Kitty。
〃Emeralds； green as an English lawn in May after a shower； Kitty。
By the way； do you mind if I call you Kitty？ I used to。〃
〃And I've always thought of you as Cutty。 Fifty…fifty。〃
〃It's a bargain。 Well； the drums to my thinking are the finest two
examples of the green beryl in the world。 Polished； of course； as
emeralds always should be。 I should say that they were about the
size of those peppermint chocolate drops there。〃
〃Have one？〃 said Kitty。
〃No。 Spoil the taste of the pipe。〃
〃You ought to spoil that taste once in a while；〃 was Burlingame's
observation。 〃But go on。〃
〃I suppose originally there was a single stone； later cut into
halves； because they are perfect matches。 The drums proper are
exquisitely carved ivory statuettes； of Hindu or Mohammedan drummers；
squatting； the golden base of the drums between the knees； and the
drumheads the emeralds。 Lord； how they got to me！ I wanted to run
off with them。 The history of murder and loot they could tell！
Some Delhi mogul owned them first。 Then Nadir Shah carried them off
to Persia； along with the famous peacock throne。 I saw them in a
palace on the Caspian in 1912。 Russia was very strong in Persia at
one time。 Perhaps they were gifts； perhaps they were stolen … these
emeralds。 Anyhow； I'd never heard of them until that year。 And I
travelled all the way up from Constantinople to get a glimpse of
them if it were possible。 I had to do some mighty fine wire…pulling。
For one of those stones I would give half of all I own。 To see them
in the possession of another man would be a supreme test to my honesty。〃
〃You old pirate！〃 said Burlingame。
〃But why the word jeopardy？〃 persisted Kitty； who was intrigued by
the phrase。
〃Probably some Hindu trick。 It is a language of flowery metaphors。
It means； I suppose； that when you touch the drums they bite。 In
journeying from one spot to another they always leave misfortune
behind； as I understand it。 Just coincidence； but you couldn't
drive that into an Oriental skull。 This is what makes the study of
precious stones so interesting。 There is always some enchantment；
some evil spell。 To handle the drums is to invite a minor accident。
Call it twaddle； probably is； and yet I have reason to believe that
there's something to the superstition。〃
Burlingame sniffed。
〃I can prove it；〃 Cutty declared。 〃I held those drums in my hands
one day。 I carried them to a window the better to observe them。
On my return to the hotel I was knocked down by a horse and laid
up in bed for a week。 That same night someone tried to kill the
man who showed me the emeralds。 Coincidence？ Perhaps。 But these
days I'm shying at thirteen； the wrong side of the street； ladders；
and religious curses。〃
〃An old hard…boiled egg like you？〃 Burlingame threw up his hands
in mock despair。
〃I laugh； too； but I duck； nevertheless。 The chap who showed me
the stones was what you'd call the honorary custodian； a privileged
character because of his genius。 Before approaching him I sent him
a copy of my monograph on green stones。 I found that he was quite
as crazy over green as I。 That brought us together； and while I
drew him out I kept wondering where I had seen him before。 Both his
name and his face were vaguely familiar。 lt seems a superstition
had come along with the stones； from India to Persia； from there to
Russia。 A maid fortunate enough to see the drums would marry and
be happy。 The old fellow confessed that occasionally he secretly
admitted a peasant maid to gaze upon the stones。 But he never let
the male inmates of the palace find this out。 He knew them a little
too intimately。 A bad lot。〃
〃And this palace？〃 asked Kitty。
〃Not one stone on another。 The proletariat rose up and destroyed
it。 To mobs anything beautiful is offensive。 Palaces looted； banks；
museums； houses。 The ignorant toying with hand grenades； thinking
them sceptres。 All the scum in the world boiling to the top。 After
the Red Day comes the Red Night。〃
〃Whatever will become of them … the little kings and princes and
dukes？〃 After all； thought Kitty； they were