the drums of jeopardy-第25章

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When　Kitty　saw　Hawksley　she　gave　a　little　gasp　of　astonishment。　　Why；
he　was　positively　handsome！　　His　dark　head；　standing　out　boldly
against　the　bolstering　pillows；　the　fine　lines　of　his　face　definite；
the　pallor　…　he　was　like　a　Roman　cameo。　　Who　and　what　could　he　be；
this　picturesque　foundling？

His　glance　flashed　into　hers　delightedly。　　For　hours　and　hours　the
constant　wonder　where　she　was；　why　no　one　mentioned　her；　why　they
evaded　his　apparently　casual　questions。　　To　burst　upon　his　vision
in　the　nadir　of　his　boredom　and　loneliness　like　this！　　She　was
glorious；　this　American　girl。　　She　made　him　think　of　a　golden
scabbard　housing　a　fine　Toledo　blade。　　Hadn't　she　saved　his　life？
More；　hadn't　she　assumed　a　responsibility　in　so　doing？　　Instantly
he　purposed　that　she　should　not　be　permitted　to　resign　the　office
of　good　Samaritan。　　He　motioned　toward　the　nurse's　chair；　and　Kitty
sat　down；　her　errand　in　total　eclipse。

〃Just　when　I　never　felt　so　lonely！　　Ripping！〃

His　quick　smile　was　so　engaging　that　Kitty　answered　it　…　kindred
spirits；　subconsciously　recognizing　each　other。　　Fire；　but　neither
of　them　knew　that；　or　that　two　lonely　human　beings　of　opposite　sex；
in　touch；　constitute　a　first…rate　combustible。

Quietly　the　nurse　withdrew。　　There　would　be　a　tonic　in　this　meeting
for　the　patient。　　Her　own　presence　might　neutralize　the　effect。　　She
had　not　spent　all　those　dreadful　months　in　base　hospitals　without
acquiring　a　keen　insight　into　the　needs　of　sick　men。　　No　harm　in
letting　him　have　this　pretty；　self…reliant　girl　alone　to　himself　for
a　quarter　of　an　hour。　　She　would　then　return　with　some　broth。

〃How　…　how　are　you？〃　asked　Kitty；　inanely。

〃Top…hole；　considering。　　Quite　ready　to　be　killed　all　over　again。〃

〃You　mustn't　talk　like　that！〃　she　protested。


〃Only　to　show　you　I　was　bucking　up。　　Thank　you　for　doing　what　you
did。〃

〃I　had　to　do　it。〃

〃Most　women　would　have　run　away　and　left　me　to　my　fate。〃

〃Not　my　kind。〃

〃Rather　not！　　Your　kind　would　risk　its　neck　to　help　a　stray　cat。
I　say；　what's　that　you　have　in　your　hand？〃

〃Good　gracious！〃　Kitty　extended　the　wallet。　　〃It　is　yours；　isn't　it？〃

〃Yes。　　I　wanted　you　to　bring　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　soul　in　the　world。　　I　was
hungry；　and　you　gave　me　food。　　I　wanted　that　to　pay　you。　　I'll　wager
you've　never　looked　into　it。〃

〃I　had　no　right　to。〃

〃See！〃　　He　opened　the　wallet　and　spread　the　contents　on　the
counterpane。　　〃I　wasn't　so　stony　as　you　thought。　　What？　　Cash　and
unregistered　bonds。　　They　would　have　been　yours　absolutely。〃

〃But　I　don't　…　I　can't　quite；〃　Kitty　stammered　…　　〃but　I　couldn't
have　kept　them！〃

〃Positively　yes。　　You　would　have　shown　them　to　that　ripping　guardian
of　yours；　and　he　would　have　made　you　see。〃

〃Indeed；　yes！　　He　would　have　been　scared　to　death。　　You　poor　man；
can't　you　see？　　Circumstantial　evidence　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　never　requited；　and
I　wanted　to　break　the　rule。　　Lord；　what　a　bally　mix…up　I'd　have
tumbled　you　in！　　I　forgot　that　you　were　you；　that　you　would　have
gone　straight　to　the　authorities。　　Of　course　I　knew　if　I　pulled
through　and　you　found　the　wallet　you　would　bring　it　to　me。〃

Kitty　no　longer　had　a　foot　on　earth。　　She　floated。　　Her　brain
floated；　too；　because　she　could　not　make　it　think　coherently　for
her。　　A　fortune　…　for　a　dish　of　bacon　and　eggs！　　The　magnificence；
the　utter　prodigality　of　such　generosity！　　For　a　dish　of　bacon　and
eggs　and　a　bottle　of　milk！　　Had　she　left　home？　　Hadn't　she　fallen
asleep；　the　victim　of　another　nightmare？　　A　corner　of　the　atmosphere
cleared　a　little。　　A　desire　took　form；　she　wanted　the　nurse　to
come　back　and　stabilize　things。　　In　a　wavering　blur　she　saw　the
odd　young　man　restore　the　money　and　bonds　and　other　documents　to
the　wallet。

〃I　want　you　to　give　this　to　your　guardian　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　carrying　me　on　his　shoulders
and　eventually　bringing　me　up　here　among　the　clouds！　　Americans。。。。
Are　you　all　like　that？　　And　you！〃

Kitty's　brain　began　to　make　preparations　to　alight；　as　it　were。
Cutty。　　That　gave　her　a　touch　of　earth。　　She　heard　herself　say
faintly：　〃And　what　about　me？〃

〃You　were　brave　and　kind。　　To　help　an　unknown；　friendless　beggar
like　that；　when　you　should　have　turned　him　over　to　the　police！
Makes　me　feel　a　bit　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；
real　friends；　who　want　to　help　you　all　they　can。〃　　And　then　with　a
little　flash　of　forced　humour；　because　of　the　recurrent　tightening
in　her　throat　…　　〃Who　could　be　friendless；　with　all　that　money？〃
Instantly　she　felt　like　biting　her　tongue。　　He　would　know　nothing
of　the　sad　American　habit　of　trying　to　be　funny　to　keep　a　wobbly
situation　on　its　legs。　　He　would　interpret　it　as　heartlessness。　　〃I
didn't　mean　that！〃　　With　the　Irish　impulsiveness　which　generally
weighs　acts　in　retrospection；　she　reached　over　and　gripped　his
hand。

〃I　say；　you　two！〃　　Hawksley　closed　his　eyes　for　a　second。　　〃Wanting
to　buck　up　a　chap　because　you　re　that　sort！　　All　right。　　I'll　stick
it　out！　　You　two！　　And　I　might　be　the　worst　scoundrel　unhung！〃

He　drew　her　hand　toward　his　lips；　and　Kitty　had　not　the　power　to
resist　him。　　She　felt　strangely　theatrical；　a　character　in　a　play；
for　American　men；　except　in　playful　burlesque；　never　kissed　their
women's　hands。　　The　moment　he　released　the　hand　the　old　wave　of
hysteria　rolled　over　her。　　She　must　fly。　　The　desire　to　weep；
little　fool　that　she　was！　　was　breaking　through　her　defences。
Loneliness。　　The　two　of　them　all　alone　but　for　Cutty。　　She　rose；
crushing　the　wallet　in　her　hand。

Ah；　never　had　she　needed　that　darling　mother　of　hers　so　much　as
now。　　Tears　did　not　seem　to　afford　relief　when　one　shed　them　into
handkerchiefs　and　pillows。　　But　on　that　gentle　bosom；　to　let
loose　this　brimming　flood；　to　hear　the　tender　voice　consoling！

〃Oh；　I　say；　now！　　Please！〃　she　heard　Johnny　Two…Hawks　cry　out。

But　she　rushed　on　blindly；　knocking　against　the　door　jamb　and　almost
upsetting　the　nurse；　who　was　returning。　　Somehow　she　managed　to
reach　the　living　room；　glad　it　was　dark。　　Alter　sundry　reaching　about
she　found　the　divan　and　flung　herself　upon　it。　　What　would　he　think？
What　would　the　nurse　think？　　That　Kitty　Conover　had　suddenly　gone
stark；　raving　crazy！　　And　now　that　she　was　in　the　dark；　alone；　the
desire　to　weep　passed　over　and　she　lay　quietly　with　her　face　buried
in　the　pillow。　　But　not　for　long。

She　sat　up。　　Music　…　violin　music！　　A　gay　waltz　that　made　her　think
of　flashing　water；　the　laughter　of　children。　　Tschaikowsky。　　Thrilled；
she　waited　for　the　finale。　　Silence。　　Scharwenka's　〃Polish　Dance；〃
with　a　swing　and　a　fire　beyond　anything　she　had　ever　heard　before。
Another　stretch　of　silence　…　a　silence　full　of　interrogation　points。
Then　a　tender　little　sketch；　quite　unfamiliar。　　But　all　at　once　she
understood。　　He　was　imploring　her　to　return。　　She　smiled　in　the　dark；
but　she　knew　she　was　going　to　remain　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　parade　to…day；　with　all　those　wounded　boys　in　automobiles；　the
music　and　colour　and　excitement　…　have　rather　done　me　up。　　And　the
way　I　rushed　up　here。　　And　not　finding　Cutty　〃

〃Anything　I　can　get　for　you？〃

〃No；　thanks。　　I'll　try　to　snatch　a　little　sleep　before　Cutty　returns。〃

〃But　he　may　be　gone　all　night！〃

〃Will　it　be　so　very　scandalous　if　I　stay　here？〃

〃You　poor　child！　　Go　ahead　and　sleep。　　Don't　hesitate　to　call　me　if
you　want　anything。　　I　have　a　mild　sedative　if　you　would　like　it。〃

〃No；　thanks。　　I　did　not　know　that　Mr。　Hawksley　played。〃

〃Wonderfully！　　But　does　it　bother　you？〃

〃It　kind　of　makes　me　choky。〃

〃I'll　tell　him。〃

Kitty；　now　strangely　at　peace；　snuggled　down　among　the　pillows。
Some　great　Polish　violinist；　who　had　roused　the　bitter　enmity　of
the　anarchist？　　But　no；　he　was　Russian。　　Cutty　had　admitted　that。
It　struck　her　that　Cutty　knew　a　great　deal　more　than　Kitty　Conover；
and　so　far　as　she　could　see　there　was　no　apparent　reason　for　this
secrecy。　　She　rather　believed　she　had　Cutty。　　Either　he　should　tell
her　everything　or　she　would　run　loose；　Bolshevik　or　no　Bolshevik。

Sheep。　　She　boosted　one　over　the　bars；　another　and　another。　　Round
somewhere　in　the　thirties　the　bars　dissolved。　　The　next　thing　she
knew　she　was　blinking　in　the　light；　Cutty；　his　arms　folded；　staring
down　at　her　sombrely。　　There　was　blood　on　his　face　and　blood　on　his
hands。



CHAPTER　XX


Karlov　moodily　touched　the　shoulder　of　the　man　on　the　cot。　　Stefani
Gregor　puzzled　him。　　He　came　to　this　room　more　often　than　was　wise；
driven　by　a　curiosity　born　of　a　cynical　philosophy　to　discover　what
it　was　that　reenforced　this　fragile　body　against　threats　and　thirst
and　hunger。　　He　knew　what　he　wanted　of　Gregor　…　the　fiddler　on　his
knees　begging　for　mercy。　　And　always　Gregor　faced　him　with　that
silent　calm　which　reminded　him　of　the　sea；　aloof；　impervious；
exasperating。　　Only　once　since　the　day　he　had　been　locked　in　this
room　had　Gregor　offered　speech。　　He；　Karlov；　had　roared　at　him；
threatened；　baited；　but　his　reward　generally　had　been　a　twisted
wintry　smile。

He　could　not　offer　physical　torture　beyond　the　frequent　omissions
of　food　and　water；　the　body　would　have　crumbled。　　To　have　planned
this　for　months；　and　then　to　be　balked　by　something　as　visible　yet
as　elusive　as　quicksilver！　　Born　in　the　same　mudhole；　and　still
Boris　Karlov　the　avenger　could　not　understand　Stefani　Gregor　the
fiddler。　　Perhaps　what　baffled　him　was　that　so　valiant　a　spirit
should　be　housed　in　so　weak　a　body。　　It　was　natural　that　he；　Boris；
with　the　body　of　a　Carpathian　bear；　should　have　a　soul　to　match。
But　that　Stefani；　with　his　paper　body；　should　mock　him！　　The
damned　bourgeoisie！

The　quality　of　this　unending　calm　was　understandable：　Gregor　was
always　ready　to　die。　　What　to　do　with　a　man　to　whom　death　was
release？　　To　hold　the　knout　and　to　see　it　turn　to　water　in　the
hand！　　In　lying　he　had　overreached。　　Gregor；　having　accepted　as
fact　the　reported　death　of　Ivan；　had　nothing　to　live　for。　　Having
brought　Gregor　here　to　torture　he　had；　blind　fool；　taken　away　the
fiddler's　ability　to　feel。　　The　fog　cleared。　　He　himself　had　given
his　enemy　this　mysterious　calm。　　He　had　taken　out　Gregor's　soul　and
dissipated　it。

No。　　Not　quite　dissipated。　　What　held　the　body　together　was　the　iron
residue　of　the　soul。　　Venom　and　blood　clogged　Karlov's　throat。　　He
could　kill　only　the　body；　as　he　had　killed　the　fiddle；　he　could　not
reach　the　mystery　within。　　Ah；　but　he　had　wrung　Stefani's　heart　there。
There　were　pieces　of　the　fiddle　on　the　table　where　Gregor　had　placed
them；　doubtless　to　weep　over　when　he　was　alone。