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the trap on the roof。
He climbed the three flights of stairs crisscrossed and festooned
with ancient cobwebs。 Occasionally he sneezed in the crook of his
elbow； philosophizing over the fact that there was a lot of deadwood
property in New York。 Americans were eternally on the move。
The window from which he intended dropping to the house roof was
obdurate。 Only the upper half was movable。 With hardly any noise
at all he pulled this down； straddled it； balanced himself； secured
a good grip on the ledge； and let himself down。 The tips of his
shoes； rubber…soled； just reached the roof。 He landed silently。
The glare of the street lamp at the corner struck the warehouse；
and this indirect light was sufficient to work by。 He made the
trap after a series of extra…cautious steps。 The roof was slanting
and pebbled； and the least turn of the foot might start a cascade
and bell an alarm。 A comfort…loving dress…suiter like himself；
playing Old Sleuth； when he ought to be home and in bed！ It was all
of two…thirty。 What the deuce would he do when there were no more
thrills in life？
He stooped and caught hold of a corner of the trap to test it … and
drew back with a silent curse。 Glass！ He had cut his hand。 The
beggars had covered the trap with cement and broken glass； sealing
it。 It would take time to cut round the trap； and even then he
wouldn't be sure； they might have nailed it down from the inside。
The worst of it was he would have to do the work himself； and in the
meantime Karlov would have a fair wind for his propaganda gas； and
perhaps the disposal of the drums to some collector who wasn't above
bargaining for smuggled emeralds。 Odd； though； that Karlov should
have made a prisoner of Coles。 What lay behind that manoeuvre？
Well； this trap must be liberated； no getting round that。
Hang it； he wasn't going to be dishonest exactly； it would be simply
a double play； half for Uncle Sam and half for himself。 The idea
of offering freely his blood and money to Uncle Sam and at the same
time putting one over on the old gentleman had a novel appeal。
He stood up and wiped a tickling cobweb from his cheek。 As the
window from which he had descended came into range he stared；
loose…jawed。 Then be chuckled； as thoroughbred adventurers generally
chuckle when they find themselves at the bottom of the sack； the
mouth of which has subitaneously and automatically closed。 Wasn't
he the brainy old top？ Wasn't he Sherlock Holmes plus？ Old fool；
how the devil was he going to get back through that window？
The drums of jeopardy … even to think of them was unlucky！ Not to
have planned a retreat； to have climbed down a well and cut the
bucket rope！ For in effect that was precisely what he had done。
Only wings could carry him up to that window。 With sardonic humour
he felt of his shoulder blades。 Not a feather in sight。 Then he
touched his ears。 Ah； here was something definite； they had grown
several inches during the past few hours。 Monumental ass！
Of course there would be the drain。 He could escape； but； dear Lord！
with enough noise to wake the dead。 And that would write 〃Finis〃 to
this particular adventure。 The quarry and the emeralds would be
gone before he could return with help。 When everything had gone so
smoothly … a jolt like this！
A crowded day； and no mistake； as full of individual acts as a bill
at a vaudeville； trained…animal act last。 Was it possible that he
had gone fiddle hunting that morning； netting an Amati worth ten
thousand dollars？ Hawksley … no； he couldn't blame Hawksley。 Still；
if this young Humpty…Dumpty hadn't been pushed off his wall he；
Cutty； would not now be marooned upon this roof 'twixt the devil
and the deep blue sea。 To remain here until sunrise would be
impossible； to slide down the drain was equally impossible … that
is； if he ever wanted to see Boris Karlov again。 The way of the
transgressor was hard。
He sat on his heels and let his gaze rove four…square； permitting
no object to escape。 He saw a clothes pole leaning against the
chimney。 Evidently the former tenants had hung up their laundry
here。 There was no clothesline； however。 Caught； jolly well；
blooming well caught！ If ever this got abroad he would be laughed
out of the game。 He wasn't going to put one over on Uncle Sam after
all。 There might be some kind of a fire escape on the front of
the house。 No harm in taking a look； it would serve to pass the
time。
There was the usual frontal parapet about three feet in height。
Upturned in the shadow lay a gift from the gods…a battered kitchen
chair； probably used to reach the clothesline in the happy days when
the word 〃Bolshevism〃 was known to only a select few dark angels。
Cutty waved a hand cheerfully if vaguely toward his guiding star；
picked up the chair； commandeered the clothes pole； and silently
manoeuvred to the wall of the warehouse。 Standing on the chair he
placed the tip of the pole against the top of the upper frame and
pushed the frame halfway up。 He repeated this act upon the obdurate
lower half。 He heaved slowly but with all his force。 Glory be；
the lower half went up far enough to afford ingress！ He would eat
his breakfast in the apartment as usual。 To…morrow night he would
establish his line of retreat by fetching a light rope ladder。
There was sweat at the roots of his hair； however； when he finally
gained the street。 He was very tired。 He observed mournfully that
the vigour which had always recharged itself； no matter how
recklessly he had drawn upon it； was beginning to protest。
Fifty…two。
Well； his troubles were over for the night。 So he believed。
Arriving home； dirty and spent； he had to find Kitty asleep on the
divan！
CHAPTER XXII
〃Kitty；〃 he said； breaking the tableau； 〃what are you doing here？〃
〃You've been hurt！ There is blood on you！〃
〃A trifling cut。 But I'm hurt； nevertheless； that you should be so
thoughtless as to come here against my orders。 It doesn't matter
that Karlov has given up the idea of having you followed。 But for
the sake of us all you must be made to understand that we are
dealing with high explosives and poison gas。 It's not what might
happen to me or to Uncle Sam's business。 It's you。 Any moment
they may take it into their heads to get at me and Hawksley through
you。 That's why we watch over you。 You don't want to see Hawksley
done in； do you？ It's real tragedy； Kitty； and nobody can guess
what the end is going to
Kitty's lip quivered。 〃Cutty； if you talk like that to me I shall
cry。〃
〃Good Lord； what about？〃 … bewildered。
〃About everything。 I've been on the verge of hysterics all day。〃
〃Kitty； you poor child； what's happened？〃
〃Nothing … everything。 Lonesome。 When I saw all those mothers and
wives and sisters and sweethearts on the curb to…day； watching their
boys march by； it hit me hard。 I was alone。 Nobody。 So please
don't be cross with me。 I'm on the ragged edge。 Silly； I know。
But we women often go to pieces over nothing； without any logical
reason。 Ready to face murder and battle and sudden death； and then
to blow up； as you men say it； over