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that terrible…looking engine of murder； battle； and sudden death
with the aid of both hands； but to aim and fire it … never in this
world！ 〃As I came in to…night I found a note in the hall from Mr。
Gregory。 I will fetch it。 But you call him Gregor？〃
〃His name is Stefani Gregor； and years and years ago he dandled me
on his knees。 I promise not to move until you return。〃
Subdued by she knew not what； no longer afraid； Kitty moved out of
the kitchen。 She had offered Gregory's letter as an excuse to reach
the telephone。 Once there； however； she did not take the receiver
off the hook。 Instead she whistled down the tube for the janitor。
〃This is Miss Conover。 Come up to my apartment in ten minutes。。。。
No； it's not the water pipes。。。。 In ten minutes〃
Nothing very serious could happen inside of ten minutes； and the
janitor was reliable and not the sort one reads about in the comic
weeklies。 Her confidence reenforced by the knowledge that a friend
was near； she took the letter into the kitchen。 Apparently her
unwelcome guest had not stirred。 The revolver was where he had
laid it。
〃Read this；〃 she said。
The visitor glanced through it。 〃It is Gregor's hand。 Poor old
chap！ I shall never forgive my self。〃
〃For what？〃
〃For dragging him into this。 They must have intercepted one of my
telegrams。〃 He stared dejectedly at the strip of oilcloth in front
of the range。 〃You are an American？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃God has been exceedingly kind to your country。 I doubt if you will
ever know how kind。 I'll take myself off。 No sense in compromising
you。〃 He laid a folded handkerchief inside his cap which he put on。
〃Know anything about this？〃 … indicating the revolver。
〃Nothing whatever。〃
〃Permit me to show you。 It is loaded； there are five bullets in the
clip。 See this little latch？ So； it is harmless。 So； and you kill
with it。〃
〃It is horrible！〃 cried Kitty。 〃Take it with you please。 I could
not keep my eyes open to shoot it。〃
〃These are troublous times。 All women should know something about
small arms。 Again I thank you。 For your own sake I trust that we
may never meet again。 Good…bye。〃 He stepped out of the window and
vanished。
Kitty； at a mental impasse； could only stare into the night beyond
the window。 This mesmeric state endured for a minute； then a gentle
and continuous sound dissipated the spell。 It was raining。
Obliquely she saw the burnt egg in the pan。 The thing had happened；
she had not been dreaming。
Her brain awoke。 Thought crowded thought； before one matured another
displaced it； and all as futile as the sparks from the anvil。 An
avalanche of conjecture； and out of it all eventually emerged one
concrete fact。 The man Was honest。 His hunger had been honest； his
laughter。 Who was he； what was he？ For all his speech； not English；
for all his gestures； not Italian。 Moribund perspectives。 Somewhere
that day he had fought for his life。 John Two…Hawks。
And there was the mysterious evanishment of old Gregory； whose name
was Stefani Gregor。 In a humdrum； prosaic old apartment like this！
Kitty had ideas about adventure … an inheritance； though she was not
aware of that。 There had to be certain ingredients； principally
mystery。 Anything sordid must not be permitted to edge in。 She had
often gone forth upon semi…perilous enterprises as a reporter；
entered sinister houses where crimes had been committed； but always
calculating how much copy at eight dollars a column could be squeezed
out of the affair。 But this promised to be something like those
tales which were always clear and wonderful in her head but more or
less opaque when she attempted to transfer them to paper。 A secret
society？ Vengeance？ An echo of the war？
〃Johnny Two…Hawks；〃 she murmured aloud。 〃And he hopes we'll never
meet again！〃
There was a mirror over the sink； and she threw a glance into it。
Very well； if he thought like that about it。
Here the doorbell tinkled。 That would be the faithful janitor。 She
ran to the door。
〃Whadjuh wanta see me about； Miz Conover？〃
〃What has happened to old Mr。 Gregory？〃
〃Him？ Why； some amb'lance fellers carted him off this afternoon。
Didn't know nawthin' was the matter with 'im until I runs into them
in the hall。〃
〃He'd been hurt？〃
〃Couldn't say； miz。 He was on a stretcher when I seen 'im。 Under
a sheet。〃
〃But he might have been dead！〃
〃Nope。 I ast 'em； an' they said a shock of some sort。〃
〃What hospital？〃
〃Gee； I forgot t'ast that！〃
〃I'll find out。 Good…night。〃
But Kitty did not find out。 She called up all the known private and
public hospitals； but no Gregor or Gregory had been received that
afternoon； nor anybody answering his description。 The fog had
swallowed up Stefani Gregor。
CHAPTER VI
The reportorial instinct in Kitty Conover； combined with her natural
feminine curiosity； impelled her to seek to the bottom of affair。
Her newspaper was as far from her as the poles； simply a paramount
desire to translate the incomprehensible into sequence and
consequence。 Harmless old Gregor's disappearance and the advent of
John Two…Hawks … the absurdity of that name！ … with his impeccable
English accent； his Latin gestures； and his black eye； convinced her
that it was political； an electrical cross current out of that broken
world over there。 Moribund perspectives。 What did that signify save
that Johnny Two…Hawks had fought somewhere that day for his life？
Had Gregor been spirited away so as to leave Two…Hawks without
support； to confuse and discourage him and break down his powers of
resistance？ Or had there been something of great value in the Gregor
apartment； and Johnny Two…Hawks had come too late to save his friend？
A word slipped into her mind like a whiff of miasma off an evil swamp。
As she recognized the word she felt the same horror and repugnance
one senses upon being unexpectedly confronted by a cobra。
Internationalism。 The scum of the world boiling to the top。 A
half…blind viper striking venomously at everything … even itself！ A
destroyer who tore down but who knew not how or what to build。 Kitty
knew that lower New York was seething with this species of terrorism
… thousands of noisome European rats trying to burrow into the
granary of democracy。 But she had no particular fear of the result。
The reacting chemicals of American humour and common sense would
neutralize that virus。 Supposing a ripple from this indecent eddy
had touched her feet？ The torch of liberty in the hands of Anarch！
Johnny Two…Hawks。 Somehow … even if she never saw him again … she
knew she would always remember him by that name。 Phases of the
encounter began to return。 Fine hands； perhaps he painted or played。
The oblong head of well…balanced mentality。 A pleasant voice。
Breeding。 To be sure； he had laughed at that fan popping out。
Anybody would have laughed。 Never had she felt so idiotic。 He had
gravely expressed the hope that they might never meet again because
his life was in danger。 What danger？ Conceivably the enmity of a
society … internationalism。 The word having found lodgment in her
thoughts took ro