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squeeze a bit of cheese！ Many things to tell； many pictures to
paint。 He rode far downtown； wound in and out of the warehouse
district for a while； then dismissed the taxi and proceeded on foot
to his destination … a decayed brick mansion of the 40's sandwiched
in between two deserted warehouses。 In the hall of the first
landing a man sat in a chair under the gas； reading a newspaper。 At
the approach of the squat man he sprang to his feet； but a phrase
dissipated his apprehension and he nodded toward a door。
〃Unlock it for me and see that I am not disturbed。〃
Presently the squat man stood inside the room； which was dark。 He
struck a match and peered about for the candle。 The light discovered
a room barren of all furniture excepting the table upon which stood
the candle； and a single chair。 In this chair was a man； bound。
He was small and dapper； his gray hair swept back a la Liszt。 His
chin was on his breast； his body limp。 Apparently the bonds alone
held him in the chair。
The squat man laid his bundle on the table and approached the
prisoner。
〃Stefani Gregor； look up； it is I！〃 He drummed on his chest like
a challenging gorilla。 〃I； Boris Karlov！〃
Slowly the eyelids of the prisoner went up； revealing mild blue eyes。
But almost instantly the mildness was replaced by an agate hardness；
and the body became upright。
〃Yes； it is Boris； whom you betrayed。 But I escaped by a hair；
Stefani； and we meet again。〃
What good to tell this poor madman that Stefani Gregor had not
betrayed him； that he had only warned those marked for death？ There
was no longer reason inside that skull。 To die； probably in a few
moments。 So be it。 Had he not been ready for seven years？ But
that poor boy … to have come all these thousands of miles； only to
walk into a trap！ Had he found that note？ Had they killed him？
Doubtless they had or Boris Karlov would not be in this room。
〃We killed him to…night； Stefani； in your rooms。 We threw out the
food so he would have to seek something to eat。 The last of that
breed； stem and branch！ We are no longer the mud； we ourselves
are the heels。 We are conquering the world。 Today Europe is ours；
to…morrow； America！〃
A wintry little smile stirred the lips of the man in the chair。
America； with its keen perceptions of the ridiculous； its withering
humour！
〃No more the dissolute opera dancers will dance to your fiddling；
Stefani； while we starve in the town。 Fiddler； valet； tutor； the
rivers and seas of Russia are red。 We roll east and west； and our
emblem is red。 Stem and branch！ We ground our heels in their faces
as for centuries they ground theirs in ours。 He escaped us there
… but I was Nemesis。 He died to…night。〃
The body in the chair relaxed a little。 〃He was clean and honest；
Boris。 I made him so。 He would have done fine things if you had
let him live。〃
〃That breed？〃
〃Why； you yourself loved him when he was a boy！〃
〃Stem and branch！ I loved my little sister Anna； too。 But what did
they do to her behind those marble walls？ Did you fiddle for her？
What was she when they let her go？ My pretty little Anna！ The fires
of hell for those damned green stones of yours； Stefani！ She heard
of them and wanted to see them； and you promised。〃
〃I？ I never promised Anna！ 。 。 。 So that was it？ Boris； I only
saw her there。 I never knew what brought her。 But the boy was in
England then。〃
〃The breed； the breed！〃 roared the squat man。 〃Ha； but you should
have seen！ Those gay officers and their damned master … we left
them with their faces in the mud； Stefani； in the mud！ And the
women begged。 Fine music！ Those proud hearts； begging Boris Karlov
for their lives … their faces in the mud！ You； born of us in those
Astrakhan Hills； you denied us because you liked your fiddle and
a full belly； and to play keeper of those emeralds。 The winding
paths of torture and misery and death by which they came into the
possession of that house！ And always the proletariat has had to pay
in blood and daughters。 You； of the people； to betray us！〃
〃I did not betray you。 I only tried to save those who had been
kind to me。〃
A cunning light shot into Karlov's eyes。 〃The emeralds！〃 He struck
his pocket。 〃Here； Stefani； and they shall be broken up to buy bread
for our people。〃
〃That poor boy！ So he brought them！ What are you going to do with
me？〃
〃Watch you grow thin； Stefani。 You want death； you shall want food
instead。 Oh； a little； enough to keep you alive。 You must learn
what it is to be hungry。〃
The squat man picked up the bundle from the table and tore off the
wrapping paper。 A violin the colour of old Burgundy lay revealed。
〃Boris！〃 The man in the chair writhed。
〃Have I waked you； Stefani？〃 … tenderly。 〃The Stradivarius … the
very grand duke of fiddles！ And he and his damned officers； how
they used to call out … 'Get Stefani to fiddle for us！' And you
fiddled； dragged your genius though the mud to keep your belly warm！〃
〃To save a soul； Boris … the boy's。 When I fiddled his uncle forgot
to drag him into an orgy。 Ah； yes； I fiddled； fiddled because I had
promised his mother！〃
〃The Italian singer！ She was lucky to die when she did。 She did
not see the torch； the bayonet； and the mud。 But the boy did … with
his English accent！ How he escaped I don't know； but he died
to…night； and the emeralds are in my pocket。 See！〃 Karlov held
the instrument close to the other's face。 〃Look at it well； this
grand duke of fiddles。 Look； fiddler； look！〃
The huge hands pressed suddenly。 There was brittle crackling； and
a rare violin became kindling。 A sob broke from the prisoner's lips。
What to Karlov was a fiddle to him was a soul。 He saw the madman
fling the wreckage to the floor and grind his heels into the
fragments。 Gregor shut his eyes； but he could not shut his ears；
and he sensed in that cold； demoniacal fury of the crunching heel
the rising of maddened peoples。
CHAPTER X
Meanwhile ；Captain Harrison of the Medical Corps entered the
Conover apartment briskly。
〃You old vagabond； what have you been up to？ I beg pardon！〃 … as
he saw Kitty emerge from behind Cutty's bulk。
〃This is Miss Conover； Harrison。〃
〃Very pleased； I'm sure。 Luckily my case was in the coat room at
the club。 I took the liberty of telephoning for Miss Frances； who
returned on the same ship with me。 I concluded that your friend
would need a nurse。 Let me have a look at him。〃
Callously but lightly and skillfully the surgeon examined the
battered head。 〃Escaped concussion by a hair； you might say。
Probably had his cap on。 That black eye； though； is an older
affair。 Who is he？〃
〃I suspect he's some political refugee。 We don't know a thing about
him otherwise。 How soon can he be moved？〃
〃He ought to be moved at once and given the best of care。〃
〃I can give him that in my eagle's nest。 Harrison； this chap's life
is in danger； and if we get him into my lofty diggings they won't be
able to trace him。 Not far from here there's a private hospital I
know。 It goes through from one street to the next。 I know the
doctor。 We'll have t