Afraid of the home influence. He remained there, under the name of Hawksley, for something like fourteen years, under the guardianship of this fellow Gregory. Of Gregory I know positively nothing. The young fellow is, to all purposes, methods of living, points of view, an Englishman. Rathbone, who was educated at Oxford, met him there and they shared quarters. But it was only in recent years that he learned the identity of his friend. In 1914 the young fellow returned to Russia. Military obligations. That's all I know.
Mighty interesting, though."
"I am much obliged to you. The white elephant becomes a normal drab pachyderm," said Cutty.
"Still something of an elephant on your hands. I see. Bring him here if you wish."
"And sic the Bolshevik at your door."
"That's so. You spoke of his having been beaten and robbed.
Bolshevik?"
"Yes. An old line of reasoning first put into effect by Oliver Cromwell. The axe."
"The poor devil!"
"Fact. I'm sorry for him, but I wish he would blow away conveniently."
"Rathbone says he's handsome, gay, but decent, considering. Humanity is being knocked about some. The hour has come for our lawyers to go back to their offices. Politics must step aside for business. We ought to hang up signs in every state capitol in the country: 'Men Wanted - Specialists.' A steel man from Pittsburgh, a mining man from Idaho, a shipowner from Boston, a meat packer from Omaha, a grain man from Chicago. What the devil do lawyers know about these things - the energies that make the wheels of this country go round? By the way, that Miss Conover was a remarkably pretty girl. She seemed to be a bit suspicious of me."
"Good reasons. That chap went to Gregor's - Gregor is his name - and was beaten, robbed, and left for dead. She saved his life."
"Good Lord! Does she know?"
"No. And what's more, I don't want her to. I am practically her guardian."
"Then you ought to get her out of that roost."
"Hang it, I can't get her to leave. I'm not legally her guardian; self-appointed. But she has agreed to leave in May."
"I'm glad you dropped in. Command me in any way you please."
"That's very good of you, considering."
"The war is over. We'd be a fine pair of fools to let an ancient grudge go on. They tell me you've a wonderful apartment on top of that skyscraper of yours."
"Will you come to dinner some night?"
"Any time you say. I should like to bring my daughter."
"She doesn't know?"
"No. Heard of Hawksley; thinks he's English."
"I am certainly agreeable." This would be a distinct advantage to Kitty. "I see you have a good book there. I'll take myself off."
In the Avenue Cutty loaded his pipe. He struck a match on the flagstone and cupped it over the bowl of his pipe, thereby throwing his picturesque countenance into ruddy relief. Opposite emotions filled the hearts of the two men watching him - in one, chagrin; in the other, exultation.
Cutty decided to walk downtown, the night being fine. He set his foot to a long, swinging stride. An elephant on his hands, truly.
Poor devil, for a fad! Nobody wanted him, not even those who wished him well. Wanted to become an American citizen. He would have been tolerably safe in England. Here he would never be free of danger.
A ranch. The beggar would have a chance out there in the West. The anarchist and the Bolshevik were town cooties. His one chance, actually. The poor devil! Kitty had the right idea. It was a mighty fine thing, these times, to be a citizen under the protection of the American doctrine.
Three hundred thousand! And Karlov had got that along with the drums.
The devil's own for luck! The fool would be able to start some fine ructions with all that capital behind him. Episodes in the night.
Kitty dreamed of wonderful rose gardens, endless and changing; but strive as she would she could not find Cutty anywhere, which worried her, even in her dream.
The nurse heard the patient utter a single word several times before he fell asleep.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Fan!" And he smiled.
She hunted for the palm leaf, but with a slight gesture he signified that that was not what he wanted.
Cutty played solitaire with his chrysoprase until the telephone broke in upon his reveries. What he heard over the wire disturbed him greatly.
"You were followed from the Avenue to the apartment."
"How do you know?"
"I am Henderson. You assigned me to watch the apartment in Eightieth through the night. I followed the man who followed you. He saw your face when you lit the pipe. When the banker left Miss Conover he was followed home. That established him in the affair. The follower hung round, and so did I. You appeared. He took a chance shot in the dark.
Not sure, but doing a bit of clever guessing."
"You still followed him?"
"Yes."
"Where did he wind up?"
"A house in the warehouse district. Vacant warehouses on each side.
Some new nest. I can lead you to it, sir, any time you wish."
"Thanks."
Cutty pushed aside the telephone and returned to his green stones.
After all, why worry? It was unfortunate, of course, but the apartment was more inaccessible than the top of the Matterhorn.
Still, they might discover what his real business was and interfere seriously with his future work on the other side. A ruin in the warehouse district? A good place to look for Stefani Gregor - if he were still alive.
He was. And in his dark room he cried piteously for water - water - water!
