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the drums of jeopardy-第23章

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sinister escaped her or she ignored it。

In all high…strung Irish souls there is a bit of the old wife; the
foreteller; the gift of prescience; and Kitty possessed this in a
mild degree。  Something held her here; when for a dozen reasons she
should have gone elsewhere。

She strained the coffee; humming a tune out of The Mikado; the
revival of which she had seen lately:

                 My object all sublime
                I shall achieve in time
         To make the punishment fit the crime。
             The punishment fit the crime。
              And make the prisoner pent
                 Unwillingly represent
            A source of innocent merriment。
                Of innocent merriment!


And there you were!  To make the punishment fit the crime。  Wall in
the Bolsheviki; the I。W。W。's; the Red Socialist; the anarchists … and
let them try it for ten years。  Those left would be glad enough to
embrace democracy and sanity。  The poor benighted things; to imagine
that they were going forward there in Russia!  What kind of mentality
was it that could conceive a blessing to humanity in the abolition of
baths and work?  And Cutty felt sorry for them。  Well; as for that; so
did Kitty Conover; and she would continue feeling sorry for them so
long as they remained thousands of miles away。  But next door!

〃Grapefruit; eggs on toast; and coffee; mademoiselle is served!〃 she
cried; gayly; sitting down and attacking her breakfast with the zest
of healthy youth。

Often the eyes are like the lenses of a camera minus the sensitized
plate; they see objects without printing them。  Thus a dozen times
Kitty's glance absently swept the range and the racks on each side
of the stovepipe; one rack burdened with an empty pancake jug and
the other cluttered with old…fashioned flatirons; but she saw nothing。

She was carefully reviewing the events of the night before。  She
could not dismiss the impression that Cutty knew Stefani Gregor or
had heard of him; and in either case it signified that Gregor was
something more than a valet。  And decidedly Two…Hawks was not of the
Russian peasantry。

By the time she was ready to leave for the office the Irish blood
in her was seething and bubbling and dancing。  She knew she would
do crazy; impulsive things all day。  It was easy to analyze this
exuberance。  She had reached out into the dark and touched danger;
and found a new thrill in a humdrum world。

The Great Dramatist had produced a tremendous drama and she had
watched curtain after curtain fall from the wrong side of the lights。
Now she had been given a speaking part; and she would be down stage
for a moment or two … dusting the furniture … while the stars were
retouching their make…up。  It was not the thought of Cutty; of
Gregor; of Johnny Two…Hawks; of hidden treasure; simply she had
arrived somewhere in the great drama。

When she reached the office she had a hard time of it to settle down
to the day's work。

〃Hustle up that Sunday stuff;〃 said Burlingame。  Kitty laughed。
Just as she had pictured it。  She hustled。

〃I have it!〃 she cried; breaking a spell of silence。

〃What … St。  Vitus?〃 inquired Burlingame; patiently。

〃No; the Morgue!〃

〃What the dickens … !〃

But Kitty was no longer there to answer。

In all newspaper offices there is a department flippantly designated
as the Morgue。  Obituaries on ice; as it were。  A photograph or an
item concerning a great man; a celebrated; beauty or some notorious
rogue; from the king calibre down to Gyp…the…Blood brand; all
indexed and laid away against the instant need。  So; running her
finger tip down the K's; Kitty found Karlov。  The half tone which
she eventually exhumed from the tin box was an excellent likeness of
the human gorilla who had entered her rooms with the policeman。  She
would be able to carry this positive information to Cutty that
afternoon。

When she left the office at four she took the Subway to Forty…second
Street。  She engaged a taxi from the Knickerbocker and discharged it
at the north entrance to the Waldorf; which she entered。  She walked
through to the south entrance and got into another taxi。  She left
this at Wanamaker's; ducking and dodging through the crowded aisles。
She selected this hour because; being a woman; she knew that the
press of shoppers would be the greatest during the day。  Karlov's
man and the secret…service operative detailed by Cutty both made the
same mistake … followed Kitty into the dry…goods shop and lost her
as completely as if she had popped up in China。  At quarter to five
she stepped into Elevator Number Four of the building which Cutty
called his home; very well pleased with herself。



CHAPTER XIII


To understand Kitty at this moment one must be able to understand
the Irish; and nobody does or can or will。  Consider her twenty…four
years; her corpuscular inheritance; the love of drama and the love
of adventure。  Imagine possessing sound ideas of life and the ability
to apply them; and spiritually always galloping off on some broad
highway … more often than not furnished by some engaging scoundrel
of a novelist … and you will be able to construct a half tone of
Kitty Conover。

That civilization might be actually on its deathbed; that positively
half of the world was starving and dying and going mad through the
reaction of the German blight touched her in a detached way。  She
felt sorry; dreadfully sorry; for the poor things; but as she could
not help them she dismissed them from her thoughts every morning after
she had read the paper; the way most of us do here in these United
States。  You cannot grapple with the misery of an unknown person
several thousand miles away。

That which had taken place during the past twenty…four hours was to
her a lark; a blindman's buff for grown…ups。  It was not in her to
tremble; to shudder; to hesitate; to weigh this and to balance
that。  Irish curiosity。  Perhaps in the original that immortal line
read: 〃The Irish rush in where angels fear to tread;〃 and some
proofreader had a particular grudge against the race。

When the elevator reached the seventeenth floor; the passengers
surged forth。  All except Kitty; who tarried。

〃We don't carry to the eighteenth; miss。

〃I am Miss Conover;〃 she replied。  〃I dared not tell you until we
were alone。〃

〃I see。〃 The boy nodded; swept her with an appraising glance; and
sent the elevator up to the loft。

〃You understand?  If any one inquires about me; you don't remember。〃

〃Yes; miss。  The boss's orders。〃

〃And if any one does inquire you are to report at once。〃

〃That; too。〃

The boy rolled back the door and Kitty stepped out upon a Laristan
runner of rose hues and cobalt blue。  She wondered what it cost
Cutty to keep up an establishment like this。  There were fourteen
rooms; seven facing the north and seven facing the west; with
glorious vistas of steam…wreathed roofs and brick Matterhorns and
the dim horizon touching the sea。  Fine rugs and tapestries and
furniture gathered from the four ends of the world; but wholly
livable and in no sense atmospheric of the museum。  Cutty had
excellent taste。

She had visited the apartment bu
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