Between Cutty's heart and his throat there was very little space at that
moment for the propelment of sound. Kitty Conover had innocently--he
understood that almost immediately and recovered his mental
balance--Kitty had innocently thrown a bomb at his feet. It did not
matter that it was a dud. The result was the same. For a second, then,
all the terror, all the astounding suspension of thought and action
attending the arrival of a shell on the battlefield were his. As
an aftermath he would have liked very much to sit down. Instead,
maintaining the mock gravity of his expression, he offered his arm,
which Kitty accepted, still the Grand Duchess of Gerolstein. Pompously
they marched into the dining room. But as Kitty saw Hawksley she dropped
the air confusedly, and hesitated. “Good gracious!” she whispered.
“What's the matter?” Cutty whispered in turn.
“My clothes!”
“What's the matter with 'em?”
“I slept in them!”
If that wasn't like a woman! It did not matter how she might look to
an old codger, aetat. fifty-two; he didn't count. But a handsome
young chap, now, in white flannels and sport shirt, his head bound
picturesquely--
“Don't let that bother you,” he said. “Those duds of his are mine.”
Still, Cutty was grateful for this little diversion. As he drew back
Kitty's chair he was wholly himself again. At once he dictated the trend
of the conversation, moved it whither he willed, into strange channels,
gave them all a glimpse of his amazing versatility, with vivid shafts of
humour to light up corners.
Kuroki, who had travelled far with his master these ten years, sometimes
paused in his rounds to nod affirmatively.
Hawksley listened intently, wondering a bit. What was the dear old
beggar's idea, throwing such fireworks round at breakfast? He stole a
glance at Kitty to see how she was taking it--and caught her stealing a
glance at him. Instantly both switched back to Cutty. Shortly the little
comedy was repeated because neither could resist the invisible force of
some half-conscious inquiry. Third time, they smiled unembarrassedly.
Mind you, they were both hanging upon Cutty's words; only their eyes
were like little children at church, restless. It was spring.
Without being exactly conscious of what he was doing, Hawksley began
to dress Kitty--that is, he visualized her in ball gowns, in sports, in
furs. He put her on horses, in opera boxes, in limousines. But in none
of these pictures could he hold her; she insisted upon returning to her
kitchen to fry bacon and eggs.
Then came a twisted thought, rejected only to return; a surprising
thought, so alluring that the sense of shame, of chivalry, could not
press it back. Cutty's words began to flow into one ear and out of
the other, without sense. There was in his heart--put there by the
recollection of the jewels--an indescribable bitterness, a desperate
cynicism that urged him to strike out, careless of friend or foe. Who
could say what would happen to him when he left here? A flash of spring
madness, then to go forth devil-may-care.
She was really beautiful, full of unsuspected fire. To fan it into white
flame. The whole affair would depend upon whether she cared for music.
If she did he would pluck the soul out of her. She had saved his life.
Well, what of that? He had broken yonder man's bread and eaten his
salt. Still, what of that? Hadn't he come from a race of scoundrels?
The blood--he had smothered and repressed it all his life--to unleash it
once, happen what might. If she were really fond of music!
Once again Kitty's glance roved back to Hawksley. This time she
encountered a concentration in his unwavering stare. She did not
quite like it. Perhaps he was only thinking about something and wasn't
actually seeing her. Still, it quieted down the fluttering gayety of her
mood. There was a sun spot of her own that became visible whenever her
interest in Cutty's monologue lagged. Perhaps Hawksley had his sun spot.
“And so,” she heard Cutty say. “Mr. Hawksley is going to become an
American citizen. Kitty, what are some of the principles of good
citizenship?”
“To be nice to policemen. Not to meddle with politics, because it is
vulgar. To vote perfunctorily. To 'let George do it' when there are
reforms to be brought about. To keep your hat on when the flag goes
by because otherwise you will attract attention. To find fault without
being able to offer remedies. To keep in debt because life here in
America would be monotonous without bill collectors.”
Cutty interrupted with a laugh. “Kitty, you'll 'scare Hawksley off the
map!”
“Let him know the worst at once,” retorted Kitty, flashing a smile at
the victim.
“Spoofing me--what?” said Hawksley, appealing to his host.
This quality of light irony in a woman was a distinct novelty to
Hawksley. She had humour, then? So much the better. An added zest to the
game he was planning. He recalled now that she was not of the clinging
kind either. A woman with a humorous turn of mind was ten times more
elusive than a purely sentimental one. Give him an hour or two with that
old Amati--if she really cared for music! She would be coming to the
apartment again--some afternoon, when his host was out of the way.
Better still, he would call her by telephone; the plea of loneliness.
Scoundrel? Of course he was. He was not denying that. He would embark
upon this affair without the smug varnish of self-lies. Fire--to play
with it!
He ate his portion of beefsteak, potatoes, and toast, and emptied his
coffee cup. It was really the first substantial meal he had had in many
hours. A feeling of satisfaction began to permeate him. He smiled at
Miss Frances, who shook her head dubiously. She could not quite make him
out pathologically. Perhaps she had been treating him as shell-shocked
when there was nothing at all the matter with his nerves.
Presently Kuroki came in with a yellow envelope, which he laid at the
side of Cutty's plate.
“Telegrams!” exploded Cutty. “Hang it, I don't want any telegrams!”
“Open it and have it over with,” suggested Kitty.
“If you don't mind.”
It was the worst kind of news--a summons to Washington for conference.
Which signified that the Government's plans were completed and that
shortly he would be on his way to Piraeus.
A fine muddle! Hawksley in no condition to send upon his way; Kitty's
affair unsettled; the emeralds still in camera obscura; Karlov at
liberty with his infernal schemes, and Stefani Gregor his prisoner. Wild
horses, pulling him two ways. A word, and Karlov would come to the end
of his rope suddenly. But if he issued that word the whole fabric he
had erected so painstakingly would blow away like cardboard. If those
emeralds turned up in the possession of any man but himself the ensuing
complications would be appalling. For he himself would be forced to tell
what he knew about the stones: Hawksley would be thrust conspicuously
into the limelight, and sooner or later some wild anarch would kill him.
Known, Hawksley would not have one chance in a thousand. Kitty would
be dragged into the light and harassed and his own attitude toward
her misunderstood. All these things, if he acted upon his oath.
Nevertheless, he determined to risk suspension of operations until he
returned from Washington. There was one sound plank to cling to. He had
first-hand information that anarchistic elements would remain in their
noisome cellars until May first. If he were not ordered abroad until
after that, no harm would follow his suspension of operations.
“Bad news?” asked Kitty, anxiously.
“Aggravating rather than bad. I am called to Washington. May be gone
four or five days. Official business. Leaves things here a bit in the
air.”
“I'll stay as long as you need me,” said Miss Frances.
“I'd rather a man now. You've been a brick. You need rest. I've a chap
in mind. He'll make our friend here toe the mark. A physical instructor,
ex-pugilist; knows all about broken heads.”
“I say, that's ripping!” cried Hawksley. “Give me your man, and I'll be
off your hands within a week. The sooner you stop fussing over me the
sooner the crack in my head will cease to bother me.
“Kuroki will cook for you and Ryan will put you through the necessary
stunts. The roof, when the weather permits, makes a good exercising
ground. If you'll excuse me I'll do some telephoning. Kuroki, pack my
bag for a five-day trip to Washington. I'll take you down to the office,
Kitty.”
“I don't fancy I ever will quite understand you,” said Hawksley, leaning
back in his chair, listlessly. “Honestly, now, you'd be perfectly
justified in bundling me off to some hotel. I have funds. Why all this
pother about me?”
Cutty smiled. “When I tackle anything I like to carry it through. I want
to put you on your train.”
“To be reasonably sure that I shan't come back?”
“Precisely”--but without smiling. With a vague yet inclusive nod Cutty
hurried off.
“It is because he is such a thorough sportsman. Mr. Hawksley,” Kitty
explained. “Having accepted certain obligations he cannot abrogate them
off hand.”
“Did I bother you last night? I mean, did my fiddling?”
“Mercy, no! From the hurdy-gurdy of my childhood, down to Kubelik
and his successors, I have been more or less music-mad. You
play--wonderfully!” Sudden, inexplicable shyness.
Hawksley smiled. An hour or two with that old Amati.
“I am only an unconventional amateur. You should hear Stefani Gregor
when the mood is on. He puts something into your soul that makes you
wish to go forth at once to do some fine, unselfish act.”
Stefani Gregor! He thought of the clear white soul of the man who had
surrendered imperishable fame to stand between him and the curse of his
blood; who had for ten years stood between his mother and the dissolute
man whom irony had selected for the part of father. Ten years of
diplomacy, tact, patience. Stefani Gregor! There was the blood,
predatory and untamed; and there was the spirit which the old musician
had moulded. He could not harm this girl. Dead or alive, Stefani Gregor
would not permit it.
Hawksley rose slowly and without further speech walked to the corridor
door. He leaned against the jamb for a moment, then went on to his
bedroom.
“I'm afraid that breakfast was too much for him,” the nurse ventured.
“An odd young man.”
“Very,” replied Kitty, rather absently. She was trying to analyze that
flash of shyness.
Meantime, Cutty sat down before the telephone. He wanted Kitty out of
town during his absence. In her present excitable mood he was afraid
to trust her. She might surrender to any mad impulse that stirred her
fancy. So he called up Burlingame. Kitty's chief, and together they
manufactured an assignment that was always a pleasant recollection to
Kitty.
Next, Cutty summoned Professor Billy Ryan to the wire, argued and
cajoled for ten minutes, and won his point. He was always dealing in
futures--banking his favours here and there and drawing checks against
them when needed.
Then he tackled his men and issued orders suspending operations
temporarily. He was asked what they should do in case Karlov came out
into the open. He answered in such an event not to molest him but to
watch and take note of those with whom he associated. There were big
things in the air, and only he himself had hold of all the threads. He
relayed this information to the actual chief of the local service, from
whom he had borrowed his men. There was no protest. Green spectacles.
Quarter to nine he and Kitty entered a subway car and found a corner to
themselves, while Karlov's agent was content with a strap in the crowded
end of the car.
Karlov for once had outthought Cutty. He had withdrawn his watchers,
confident that after a day or so his unknown opponent would withdraw
his. During the lull Karlov matured his plans, then resumed operations,
calculating that he would have some forty-odd hours' leeway.
His agent was clever. He had followed Kitty from Eightieth Street to
the Knickerbocker Hotel. There he had lost her. He had loitered on
the sidewalk until midnight, and was then convinced that the girl had
slipped by. So he had returned to Eightieth Street; but as late as five
in the morning she had not returned.
This agent had followed the banker after his visit to Kitty. He had
watched the banker's house, seen Cutty arrive and depart. Taking a
chance shot in the dark, he had followed Cutty to the office building,
learned that Cutty was the owner and lived in the loft. As Kitty had not
returned home by five he proceeded to take a second chance shot in the
dark, stationing himself across the street from the entrance to the
office building, thereby solving the riddle uppermost in Karlov's mind.
He had found the man in the dress suit.
“Cutty, I'm sorry I was such a booby last night. But it was the best
thing that could have happened. The pentupness of it was simply killing
me. I hadn't any one to come to but you--any one who would understand.
I don't know of any man who has a better right to kiss me. I know. You
were just trying to buck me up.”
Clitter-clatter! Clitter-clatter! Cutty stared hard at the cement floor.
Marry her, settle a sum on her, and give her her freedom. Molly's girl.
Give her a chance to play. He turned.
“Kitty, do you trust me?”
“Of all the foolish questions!” She pressed his arm. “Why shouldn't I
trust you?”
“Will you marry me? Wait! Let me make clear to you what I have in mind.
I'm all alone. I loved your mother. It breaks my heart that while I have
everything in the way of luxuries you have nothing. I can't settle a sum
on you--an income. The world wouldn't understand. Your friends would be
asking questions among themselves. This telegram from Washington means
but one thing: that in a few weeks I shall be on my way to the East. I
shall be mighty unhappy if I have to go leaving you in the rut. This is
my idea: marry me an hour or so before the ship sails. I will leave you
a comfortable income. Lord knows how long I shall be gone. Well, I
won't write. After a year you can regain your freedom on the grounds of
desertion. Simple as falling off a log. It's the one logical way I can
help you. Will you?”
Station after station flashed by. Kitty continued stare through the
window across the way, by and by she turned her face toward him, her
eyes shining with tears.
“Cutty, there is going to be a nice place in heaven for you some day. I
understand. I believe Mother understands, too. Am I selfish? I can't say
No to you and I can't say Yes. Yet I should be a liar if I did not say
that everything in me leaps toward the idea. It is both hateful and
fascinating. Common sense says Yes; and something else in me says No.
I like dainty things, dainty surroundings. I want to travel, to see
something of the world. I once thought I had creative genius, but I
might as well face the fact that I haven't. Only by accident will I ever
earn more than I'm earning now. In a few years I'll grow old suddenly.
You know what the newspaper game does to women. The rush and hurry of
it, the excitements, the ceaseless change. It is a furnace, and women
shrivel up in it quicker than men.”
“There won't be any nonsense, Kitty. An hour before I go aboard my ship.
I'll go back to the job the happiest of men. Molly's girl taken care of!
Just before your father died I promised him I'd keep an eye on you. I
never forgot, but conditions made it impossible. The apartment will
be yours as long as you need it. Kuroki, of course, goes with me. It's
merely going by convention on the blind side. To leave you something in
my will wouldn't serve at all, I'm a tough old codger and may be
marked down for a hale old ninety. All I want is to make you happy and
carefree.”
“Cutty, I'd like to curl up in some corner and cry, gratefully. I didn't
know there were such men. I just don't know what to do. It isn't as
if you were asking me to be your wife. And as you say, I can't accept
money. There is a pride in me that rejects the whole thing; but it may
be the same fool pride that has cut away my friends. I ought to fall on
your neck with joy: and here I am trying to look round corners! You
are my father's friend, my mother's, mine. Why shouldn't I accept the
proposition? You are alone, too. You have a perfect right to do as you
please with your money, and I have an equally perfect right to accept
your gifts. We are all afraid of the world, aren't we? That's probably
at the bottom of my doddering. Cutty, what is love?” she broke off,
whimsically.
“Looking into mirrors and hunting for specks,” he answered, readily.
“I mean seriously.”
“So do I. Before I went round to the stage entrance to take your mother
out to supper I used to preen an hour before the mirror. My collar, my
cravat, my hair, the nap on my stovepipe, my gloves--terrible things!
And what happened? Your dad, dressed in his office clothes, came along
like a cyclone, walked all over my toes, and swooped up your mother
right from under my nose. Now just look the proposition over from all
angles. Think of yourself; let the old world go hang. They'll call
it alimony. In a year or so you'll be free; and some chap like Tommy
Conover will come along, and bang! You'll know all about love. Here's
old Brooklyn Bridge. I'll see you to the elevator. All nonsense that you
should have the least hesitance.”
Fifteen minutes later he was striding along Park Row. By the swing of
his stride any onlooker would have believed that Cutty was in a hurry to
arrive somewhere. Instead, one was only walking. Suddenly he stopped in
the middle of the sidewalk with the two currents of pedestrians flowing
on each side of him, as a man might stop who saw some wonderful cloud
effect. But there was nothing ecstatical in his expression; on the
contrary, there was a species of bewildered terror. The psychology of
all his recent actions had in a flash become vividly clear.
An unbelievable catastrophe had overtaken him. He loved Kitty, loved her
with an intense, shielding passion, quite unlike that which he had given
her mother. Such a thing could happen! He offered not the least combat;
the revelation was too smashing to admit of any doubt. It was not
a recrudescence of his love for Molly, stirred into action by the
association with Molly's daughter. He wanted Kitty for himself, wanted
her with every fibre in his body, fiercely. And never could he tell
her--now.
The tragic irony of it all numbed him. Fate hadn't played the game
fairly. He was fifty-two, on the far side of the plateau, near sunset.
It wasn't a square deal.
Still he stood there on the sidewalk, like a rock in the middle of a
turbulent stream, rejecting selfish thoughts. Marry Kitty, and tell her
the truth afterward. He knew the blood of her--loyalest of the loyal.
He could if he chose play that sort of game--cheat her. He could not
withdraw his proposition. If she accepted it he would have to carry it
through. Cheat her.