the drums of jeopardy-第3章

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and　he　might　have　been　able　to　whirl；　draw　his　pistol；　and　end　the
affair。

The　coup　de　grace　came　suddenly：　a　blow　that　caught　Quasimodo　full
on　the　point　of　the　jaw。　　He　sagged　and　went　sprawling　upon　his
face。　　The　victor　turned　him　over　and　raised　a　heel。。。。　　No！　　He
was　neither　Prussian　nor　Sudanese　black。　　He　was　white；　and　white
men　did　not　stamp　in　the　faces　of　fallen　enemies。

But　there　was　one　thing　a　white　man　might　do　in　such　a　case　without
disturbing　the　ethical；　and　he　proceeded　about　it　forthwith：　Draw
the　devil's　fangs；　render　him　impotent　for　a　few　hours。　　He
deliberately　knelt　on　one　of　the　outspread　arms　and　calmly　emptied
the　insensible　man's　pockets。　　He　took　everything　…　watch；　money；
passport；　letters；　pistol；　keys　…　rose　and　dropped　them　into　the
river。　　He　overlooked　Quasimodo's　belt；　however。　　The　Anglo…Saxon
idea　was　top　hole。　　His　fists　had　saved　his　life。

CHAPTER　m


Hawksley　heard　the　panting　of　an　engine　and　turned　his　head。　　Dimly
he　saw　a　giant　bridge　and　a　long　drab　train　moving　across　it。　　He
picked　up　the　fallen　man's　cap　and　tried　it　on。　　Not　a　particularly
good　fit；　but　it　would　serve。　　He　then　trotted　round　the　deckhouse
to　the　street　side；　jumped　to　the　wharf；　and　sucking　the　cracked
knuckles　of　his　right　hand　fell　into　a　steady　dogtrot　which　carried
him　to　the　station　he　had　left　so　hopefully　an　hour　and　a　half　gone。

An　accommodation　train　eventually　deposited　him　in　Poughkeepsie；
where　he　purchased　a　cap　and　a　sturdy　walking　stick。　　The　stubble
on　his　chin　and　cheeks　began　to　irritate　him　intensely；　but　he　could
not　rid　himself　of　the　idea　that　a　barber's　chair　would　be　inviting
danger。　　He　was　now　tolerably　certain　that　from　one　end　of　the
continent　to　the　other　his　presence　was　known。　　His　life　and　his
property；　they　would　be　after　both。　　Even　now　there　might　be　men　in
this　strange　town　seeking　him。　　The　closer　he　got　to　New　York；　the
more　active　and　wide…awake　they　would　become。

He　walked　the　streets；　his　glance　constantly　roving。　　But　apparently
no　one　paid　the　least　attention　to　him。　　Finally　he　returned　to　the
railway　station；　and　at　six　o'clock　that　evening　he　left　the　platform
of　the　125th　Street　Station；　and　appraised　covertly　the　men　who
accompanied　him　to　the　street。　　He　felt　assured　that　they　were　all
Americans。　　Probably　they　were；　but　there　are　still　some　stray　fools
of　American　birth　who　cannot　accept　the　great　American　doctrine　as
the　only　Ararat　visible　in　this　present　flood。　　Perhaps　one　of　these
accompanied　Hawksley　to　the　street。　　Whatever　he　was；　one　had　upon
order　met　every　south…going　train　since　seven　o'clock　that　morning；
when　Quasimodo；　paying　from　the　gold　hidden　in　his　belt；　had　sent
forth　the　telegraphic　alarm。　　The　man　hurried　across　the　street　and
followed　Hawksley　by　matching　his　steps。　　His　business　was　merely　to
learn　the　other's　destination　and　then　to　report。

Across　the　earth　a　tempest　had　been　loosed；　but　Ariel　did　not　ride
it；　Caliban　did。　　The　scythe　of　terror　was　harvesting　a　type；　and
the　innocent　were　bending　with　the　guilty。

Suddenly　Hawksley　felt　young；　revivified；　free。　　He　had　arrived。
Surmounting　indescribable　hazards　and　hardships　he　walked　the
pavement　of　New　York。　　In　an　hour　the　mutable　quicksands　of　a　great
city　would　swallow　him　forever。　　Free！　　He　wanted　to　stroll　about；
peer　into　shop　windows；　watch　the　amazing　electric　signs；　dally；
but　he　still　had　much　to　accomplish。

He　searched　for　a　telephone　sign。　　It　was　necessary　that　he　find
one　immediately。　　He　had　once　spent　six　weeks　in　and　about　this
marvellous　city；　and　he　had　a　vague　recollection　of　the
blue…and…white　enamel　signs。　　Shortly　he　found　one。　　It　was　a
pay　station　in　the　rear　of　a　news　and　tobacco　shop。

He　entered　a　booth；　but　discovered　that　he　had　no　five…cent　pieces
in　his　purse。　　He　hurried　out　to　the　girl　behind　the　cigar　stand。
She　was　exhibiting　a　box　of　cigars　to　a　customer；　who　selected
three；　paid　for　them；　and　walked　away。　　Hawksley；　boiling　with
haste　to　have　his　affair　done；　flung　a　silver　coin　toward　the　girl。

〃Five…cent　pieces！〃

〃Will　you　take　them　with　you　or　shall　I　send　them？〃　asked　the　girl；
earnestly。

〃I　beg　pardon！〃

〃Any　particular　kind　of　ribbon　you　want　the　box　tied　with？〃

〃I　beg　your　pardon！〃　repeated　Hawksley；　harried　and　bewildered。
〃But　I'm　in　a　hurry　…　〃

〃Too　much　of　a　hurry　to　leave　out　the　bark　when　you　ask　a　favour？
I　make　change　out　of　courtesy。　　And　you　all　bark　at　me　Nickel！
Nickel！　　as　if　that　was　my　job。〃

〃A　thousand　apologies！〃　…　contritely。

〃And　don't　make　it　any　worse　by　suggesting　a　movie　after　supper。
My　mother　never　lets　me　go　out　after　dark。〃

〃I　rather　fancy　she's　quite　sensible。　　Still；　you　seem　able　to
take　care　of　yourself。　　I　might　suggest　…〃

〃With　that　black　eye？　　Nay；　nay！　　I'll　bet　somebody's　brother　gave
it　to　you。〃

〃Venus　was　not　on　that　occasion　in　ascendancy。　　Thank　you　for　the
change。〃　　Hawksley　swung　on　his　heel　and　reentered　the　booth。

A　great　weariness　oppressed　him。　　A　longing；　almost　irresistible；
came　to　him　to　go　out　and　cry　aloud：　〃Here　I　am！　　Kill　me！　　I　am
tired　and　done！〃　　For　he　had　recognized　the　purchaser　of　the　cigars
as　one　of　the　men　who　had　left　the　125th　Street　Station　at　the　same
time　as　he。　　He　remembered　distinctly　that　this　man　had　been　in　a
hurry。　　Perhaps　the　whole　dizzy　affair　was　reacting　upon　his
imagination　psychologically　and　turning　harmless　individuals　into
enemies。

〃Hello！〃　said　a　man's　voice　over　the　wire。

〃Is　Mr。　Rathbone　there？〃

〃Captain　Rathbone　is　with　his　regiment　at　Coblenz；　sir。〃

〃Coblenz？〃

〃Yes；　sir。　　I　do　not　expect　his　return　until　near　midsummer；　sir。
Who　is　this　talking？〃

〃Have　you　opened　a　cable　from　Yokohama？〃

〃This　is　Mr。　Hawksley！〃　　The　voice　became　excited。

〃Oh；　sir！　　You　will　come　right　away。　　I　alone　understand；　sir。　　You
will　remember　me　when　you　see　me。　　I'm　the　captain's　butler；　sir
　…　Jenkins。　　He　cabled　back　to　give　you　the　entire　run　of　the　house
as　long　as　you　desired　it。　　He　advised　me　to　notify　you　that　he　had
also　prepared　his　banker　against　your　arrival。　　Have　your　luggage
sent　here　at　once；　sir。　　Dinner　will　be　at　your　convenience。〃

Hawksley's　body　relaxed。　　A　lump　came　into　his　throat。　　Here　was　a
friend；　anyhow；　ready　to　serve　him　though　he　was　thousands　of　miles
away。

When　he　could　trust　himself　to　speak　he　said：　〃Sorry。　　It　will　be
impossible　to　accept　the　hospitality　at　present。　　I　shall　call　in
a　few　days；　however；　to　establish　my　identity。　　Thank　you。　　Good
evening。〃

〃Just　a　moment；　sir。　　I　may　have　an　important　cable　to　transmit　to
you。　　It　would　be　wise　to　leave　me　your　address；　sir。〃

Hawksley　hesitated　a　moment。　　After　all；　he　could　trust　this　perfect
old　servant；　whom　he　remembered。　　He　gave　the　address。

As　he　came　out　of　the　booth　the　girl　stretched　forth　an　arm　to
detain　him。　　He　stopped。

〃I'm　sorry　I　spoke　like　that；〃　she　said。　　〃But　I'm　so　tired！　　I've
been　on　my　feet　all　day；　and　everybody's　been　barking　and　growling；
and　if　I'd　taken　in　as　many　nickels　as　I've　passed　out　in　change　the
boss　would　be　rich。〃

〃Give　me　a　dozen　of　those　roses　there。〃　　She　sold　flowers　also。
〃The　pink　ones。　　How　much？〃　he　asked。

〃Two…fifty。〃

He　laid　down　the　money。　　〃Never　mind　the　box。　They　are　for　you。
Good　evening。〃

The　girl　stared　at　the　flowers　as　Ali　Baba　must　have　stared　at　the
cask　with　rubies。

〃For　me！〃　she　whispered。　　〃For　nothing！〃

Her　eyes　blurred。　　She　never　saw　Hawksley　again；　but　that　was　of
no　importance。　　She　had　a　gentle　deed　to　put　away　in　the　lavender
of　recollection。

Outside　Hawksley　could　see　nothing　of　the　man　who　had　bought　the
cigars。　　At　any　rate；　further　dodging　would　be　useless。　　He　would
go　directly　to　his　destination。　　Old　Gregor　had　sent　him　a　duplicate
key　to　the　apartment。　　He　could　hide　there　for　a　day　or　two；　then
visit　Rathbone's　banker　at　his　residence　in　the　night　to　establish
his　identity。　　Gregor　could　be　trusted　to　carry　the　wallet　and　the
pouch　to　the　bank。　　Once　these　were　walled　in　steel　half　the　battle
would　be　over。　　He　would　have　nothing　to　guard　thereafter　but　his
life。　　He　laughed　brokenly。　　Nothing　but　the　clothes　he　stood　in。
He　never　could　claim　the　belongings　he　had　been　forced　to　leave　in
that　hotel　back　yonder。　　But　there　was　loyal　old　Gregor。　　Somebody
would　be　honestly　glad　to　see　him。　　The　poor　old　chap！　　Astonishing；
but　of　late　he　was　always　thinking　in　English。

He　hailed　the　first　free　taxicab　he　saw；　climbed　in；　and　was　driven
downtown。　　He　looked　back　constantly。　　Was　he　followed？　　There　was
no　way　of　telling。　　The　street　was　alive　with　vehicles　tearing
north　and　south；　with　frequent　stoppage　for　the　passage　of　those
racing　east　and　west。　　The　destination　of　Hawksley's　cab　was　an
old…fashioned　apartment　house　in　Eightieth　Street。

Gregor　would　have　a　meal　ready；　and　it　struck　Hawksley　forcibly
that　he　was　hungry；　that　he　had　not　touched　food　since　the　night
before。　　Gregor；　valeting　in　a　hotel；　pressing　coats　and　trousers
and　sewing　on　buttons！　　Groggy　old　world；　wasn't　it？　　Gregor；
pressing　the　trousers　of　the　hoi　polloi！　　Gregor；　who　could　have
sent　New　York　mad　with　that　old　Stradivarius　of　his！　　But　Gregor
was　wise。　　Safety　for　him　lay　in　obscurity；　and　what　was　more
obscure　than　a　hotel　valet？

He　did　not　seek　the　elevator　but　mounted　the　first　flight　of　stairs。
He　saw　two　doors；　one　on　each　side　of　the　landing。　　He　sought　one；
stooped　and　peered　at　the　card　over　the　bell。　　Conover。　　Gregor's
was　opposite。　　Having　a　key　he　did　not　knock　but　unlocked　the　door
and　stepped　into　the　dark　hall。

〃Stefani　Gregor？〃　he　called；　joyously。　　〃Stefani；　my　old　friend；　it
is　I！〃

Silence。　　But　that　was　understandable。　　Either　Gregor　had　not
returned　from　his　labours　or　he　was　out　gathering　the　essentials
for　the　evening　meal。　　Judging　from　the　variety　of　odours　that　swam
the　halls　of　this　human　warren　many　suppers　were　in　the　process　of
making；　and　the　top　flavour　was　garlic。　　He　sniffed　pleasurably。
Not　that　the　smell　of　garlic　quickened　his　hunger。　　It　merely　sent
his　thought　galloping　backward　a　score　of　years。　　He　saw　Stefani
Gregor　and　a　small　boy　in　mountain　costume　footing　it　sturdily
along　the　dizzy　goat　paths　of　the　rugged　hills；　saw　the　two　sitting
on　some　ruddy　promontory　and　munching　black　bread　rubbed　with　garlic。
Ambrosia！　　His　mother's　horror；　when　she　smelt　his　breath　…　as　if
garlic　had　not　been　one　of　her　birthrights！　　His　uncle；　roaring　out
in　his　bull's　voice　that　black　bread　and　garlic　were　good　for　little
boys'　stomachs；　and　made　the　stuff　of　soldiers。　　Black　bread　and
garlic　and　the　Golden　Age！

After　he　had　flooded　the　hall　with　light　he　began　a　tour　of
inspection。　　The　rooms　were　rather　bare　but　clean　and　orderly。
Here　and　there　were　items　that　kept　the　homeland　green　in　the
recollection。　　He　came　to　the　bedroom　last。　　He　hesitated　for　a
moment　before　opening　the　door。　　The　lights　told　him　why　Gregor　had
not　greeted　his　entering
hail。

The　overturned　reading　lamp；　the　broken　chair；　the　letters　and
papers　strewn　about　the　floor；　the　rifled　bureau　drawers　…　these
things　spoke　plainly　enough。　　Gregor　was　a　prisoner　somewhere　in