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Oh； the blind little fool she had been！ All those constant warnings；
and she had not heeded！ Cutty had warned her repeatedly； so had
Bernini； and she had deliberately walked into this trap。 As if this
cold； murderous madman would risk showing himself without some grim
and terrible purpose。 She had written either Cutty's or Johnny
Two…Hawks' death warrant。 She covered her eyes。 It was horrible。
Perhaps not Cutty； but assuredly Two…hawks。 His life for her
liberty。
〃And he will come！〃 she whispered。 She knew it。 How； was not to
be analyzed。 She just knew that he would come。 What if he had
smiled like that！ The European point of view and her own
monumental folly。 He would come quietly； without protest； and
give himself up。
〃God forgive me！ What can I do？ What can I do？〃
She slid to the floor and rocked her body。 Her fault！ He would
come … even as Cutty would have come had he been the man demanded。
And Karlov would kill him … because he was an error in chronology！
She sensed also that the anarchist would not look upon his act as
murder。 He would be removing an obstacle from the path of his sick
dreams。
Comparisons！ She saw how much alike the two were。 Cutty was only
Johnny Two…Hawks at fifty…two … fearless and whimsical。 Had Cutty
gone through life without looking at some woman as； last night；
Two…Hawks had looked at her？ All the rest of her life she would
see Two…Hawks' eyes。
Abysmal fool； to pit her wits against such men as Karlov！ Because
she had been successful to a certain extent； she had overrated her
cleverness； with this tragic result。。。 He had fiddled the soul out
of her。 But death！
She sprang up。 It was maddening to sit still； to feel the approach
of the tragedy without being able to prevent it。 She investigated
the windows。 No hope in this direction。 It was rapidly growing
dark outside。 What time was it？
The door opened。 A man she had not seen before came in with a
blanket； a pitcher of water； and some graham crackers。 His fingers
were stained a brilliant yellow and a peculiar odour emanated from
his clothes。 He did not speak to her； but set the articles on the
floor and departed。
Kitty did not stir。 An hour passed； she sat as one in a trance。
The tallow dip was sinking。 By and by she became conscious of a
faint sound； a tapping。 Whence it came she could not tell。 She
moved about cautiously； endeavouring to locate it。 When she
finally did the blood drummed in her ears。 The trap！ Someone was
trying to get in through the trap！
Cutty！ Thus soon！ Who else could it be？ She hunted for a piece of
lumber light enough to raise to the trap。 She tapped three times；
and waited。 Silence。 She repeated the signal。 This time it was
answered。 Cutty！ In a little while she would be free； and Two…Hawks
would not have to pay for her folly with his life。 Terror and
remorse departed forthwith。
She took the plank to the door and pushed one end under the door
knob。 Then she piled the other planks against the butt。 The moment
she heard steps on the stairs she would stand on the planks。 It
would be difficult to open that door。 She sat down on the planks to
wait。 From time to time she built up the falling tallow。 Cutty
must have light。 The tapping on the trap went on。 They were
breaking away the cement。 Perhaps an hour passed。 At least it
seemed a very long time。
Steps on the stairs！ She stood up； facing the door； the roots of
her hair tingling。 She heard the key turn in the lock； and then
as in a nightmare she felt the planks under her feet stir slightly
but with sinister persistence。 She presently saw the toe of a boot
insert； itself between the door and the jamb。 The pressure increased；
the space between the door and the jamb widened。 Suddenly the boot
vanished； the door closed； and the plank fell。 Immediately
thereafter Karlov stood inside the room； scowling suspiciously。
CHAPTER XXX
Cutty arrived at the apartment in time to share dinner with Hawksley。
He had wisely decided to say nothing about the escapade of Hawksley
and Kitty Conover； since it had terminated fortunately。 Bernini
had telegraphed the gist of the adventure。 He could readily
understand Hawksley's part； but Kitty's wasn't reducible to
ordinary terms of expression。 The young chap had run wild because
his head still wobbled on his shoulders and because his isolation
was beginning to scratch his nerves。 But for Kitty to run wild with
him offered a blank wall to speculation。 （As if he could solve the
riddle when Kitty herself could not！） So he determined to shut
himself up in his study and shuffle the chrysoprase。 Something
might come of it。 Looking backward； he recognized the salient；
at no time had he been quite sure of Kitty。 She seemed to be a
combination of shallows and unfathomable deeps。
》From the Pennsylvania Station he had called up the office。 Kitty
had gone。 Bernini informed him that Kitty was dining at a caf？on
the way home。 Cutty was thorough。 He telephoned the restaurant
and was advised that Miss Conover had reserved a table。 He had
forgotten to send down the operative who guarded Kitty at that end。
But the distance from the office to the Subway was so insignificant！
〃You are looking fit；〃 he said across the table。
〃Ought to be off your hands by Monday。 But what about Stefani
Gregor？ I can't stir； leaving him hanging on a peg。〃
〃I am going into the study shortly to decide that。 Head bother you？〃
〃Occasionally。〃
〃Ryan easy to get along with？〃
〃Rather a good sort。 I say； you know； you've seen a good deal of
life。 Which do you consider the stronger； the inherited traits or
environment？〃
〃Environment。 That is the true mould。 There is good and bad in
all of us。 It is brought into prominence by the way we live。 An
angel cannot touch pitch without becoming defiled。 On the other
hand； the worst gutter rats in the world saved France。 Do you
suppose that thought will not always be tugging at and uplifting
those who returned from the first Marne？〃
〃There is hope； then； for me！〃
〃Hope？〃
〃Yes。 You know that my father； my uncle； and my grandfather were
fine scoundrels。〃
〃Under their influence you would have been one； too。 But no man
could live with Stefani Gregor and not absorb his qualities。 Your
environment has been Anglo…Saxon； where the first block in the
picture is fair play。 You have been constantly under the tutelage
of a fine and lofty personality； Gregor's。 Whatever evil traits
you may have inherited； they have become subject to the influences
that have surrounded you。 Take me； for instance。 I was born in a
rather puritanical atmosphere。 My environments have always been
good。 Yet there lurks in me the taint of Macaire。 Given the wrong
environment； I should now have my picture in the Rogues' Gallery。〃
〃You？〃
〃Yes。〃
Hawksley played with his fork。 〃If you had a daughter would you
trust me with her？〃
〃Yes。 Any man who can weep unashamed over the portrait of his
mother may be trusted。 Once you are out there in Montana you'll
forget all about your paternal forbears。〃
Handsome beggar； thought