the drums of jeopardy-第12章
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tried to murder him； left him there to die！〃
Cutty possessed a great art； an art highly developed only in
explorers and newspaper reporters of the first order … adaptability；
of being able to cast aside instantly the conventions of civilization
and let down the bars to the primordial； the instinctive； and the
natural。 Thus the Cutty who stepped out beside Kitty into the drizzle
was not the Cutty she had admitted into the apartment。 She did not
recognize this remarkable transition until later； and then she
discovered that Cutty； the suave and lackadaisical in idleness； was
a tremendous animal hibernating behind a crackle shell。
Ordinarily Cutty would have declined to come through this shell；
thin as it was； he liked these catnaps between great activities。
But this lovely creature was Conover's daughter； and she would
have the seventh sense…divination of the born reporter。 Something
big was in the air。
〃Go on！〃 he said； briskly。 〃I'm at your heels。 And stoop as you
pass those hall windows。 No use throwing a silhouette for somebody
in those rear houses to see。〃 。 。 。 Old Tommy Conover's daughter；
sure pop！ 。 。 。 There you go； under the ladder！ You've dished the
whole affair； whatever it is。。。。 No； no！ Just spoofing； Kitty。 A
long face is no good anywhere； even at a funeral。。。。 This window？
All right。 Know where the lights are？ Very good。〃
When Cutty saw the man on the floor he knelt quickly。 〃Nasty bang
on the head； but he's alive。 What's this？ His cap。 Poughkeepsie。
By George； padded with his handkerchief！ Must have known something
was going to fall on him。 Now； what's it all about？〃
〃When we get him to my apartment。〃
〃Yours？ Good Lord； what's the matter with this？〃
〃They tried to kill him here。 They might return to see if they had
succeeded。 They mustn't find where he has gone。 I'm strong。 I can
take hold of his knees。〃
〃Tut！ Neither of us could walk backward over that fire escape。 He
looks husky； but I'll try it。 Now obey me without question or
comment。 You'll have to help me get him outside the window and in
through yours。 Between the two windows I can handle him alone。 I
only hope we shan't be noticed； for that might prove awkward。 Now
take hold。 That's it。 When I'm through the window just push
his legs outside。〃 Panting； Kitty obeyed。 〃All right；〃 said Cutty。
〃I like your pluck。 You run along ahead and be ready to help me in
with him。 A healthy beggar！ Here goes。〃
With a heave and a hunch and another heave Cutty stood up； the limp
body disposed scientifically across his shoulders。 Kitty was quite
impressed by this exhibition of strength in a man whom she considered
as elderly … old。 There was an underthought that such feats of
bodily prowess were reserved for young men。 With the naive conceit
of twenty…four she ignored the actual mathematics of fifty years of
clean living and thinking； missed the physiological fact that often
men at fifty are stronger and tougher than men in the twenties。 They
never waste energy； their precision of movement and deliberation of
thought conserve the residue against the supreme moment。
As a parenthesis： To a young woman what is a hero？ Generally
something conjured out of a book she has read； the unknown； handsome
young man across the street； the leading actor in a society drama；
the idol of the movie。 A hero must of necessity be handsome； that
is the first essential。 If he happens to be brave and debonair；
rich and aristocratic； so much the better。 Somehow； to be brave and
to be heroic are not actually accepted synonyms in certain youthful
feminine minds。 For instance； every maid will agree that her father
is brave； but tell her he is a hero because he pays his bills
regularly and she will accept the statement with a smile of tolerant
indulgence。
Thus Kitty viewed Cutty's activities with a thrill of amazed wonder。
Had the young man hoisted Cutty to his shoulders her feeling would
have been one of exultant admiration。 Let age crown its garnered
wisdom； youth has no objections to that； but feats of physical
strength … that is poaching upon youth's preserves。 Kitty was not
conscious of the instinctive resentment。 At that moment Cutty was
to her the most extraordinary old man in the world。
〃Forward！〃 he whispered。 〃I want to know why I am doing this movie
stunt。〃 The journey began with Kitty in the lead。 She prayed that
no one would see them as they passed the two landing windows。 Below
and above were vivid squares of golden light。 She regretted the
drizzle； no clothes…laden lines intervened to obscure their progress。
Someone in the rear of the houses in Seventy…ninth Street might
observe the silhouettes。 The whole affair must be carried off
secretly or their efforts would come to nothing。
Once inside the kitchen Cutty shifted his burden into his arms； the
way one carries a child； and followed Kitty into the unused bedroom。
He did not wait for the story； but asked for the telephone。
〃I'm going to call for a surgeon at the Lambs。 He's just back from
France and knows a lot about broken heads。 And we can trust him
absolutely。 I told him to wait there until I called。〃
〃Cutty； you're a dear。 I don't wonder father loved you。〃
Presently he turned away from the telephone。 〃He'll be here in a
jiffy。 Now； then； what the deuce is all this about？〃
Briefly Kitty narrated the episodes。
〃Samaritan stuff。 I see。 Any absorbent cotton？ I can wash the
wound after a fashion。 Warm water and Castile soap。 We can have
him in shape for Harrison。〃
Alone； Cutty took note of several apparent facts。 The victim's
flannel shirt was torn at the collar and there were marks of finger
nails on the throat and chest。 Upon close inspection he observed a
thin red line round the neck … the mark of a thong。 Had they tried
to strangle him or had he carried something of value？ Silk underwear
and a clean body； well born； foreign。 After a conscientious
hesitance Cutty went through the pockets。 All he found were some
crumbs of tobacco and a soggy match box。 They had cleaned him out
evidently。 There were no tailors' labels in any of the pockets； but
there were signs that these had once existed。 The man on the bed
had probably ripped them out himself； did not care to be identified。
A criminal in flight？ Cutty studied the face on the pillow。 Shorn
of that beard it would be handsome； not the type criminal； certainly。
A bit of natural cynicism edged into his thoughts： Kitty had seen
through the beard； otherwise she would have turned the affair over
to the police。 Not at all like her mother； yet equally her mother's
match in beauty and intelligence。 Conover's girl； whose eyes had
nearly popped out of her head at the first sight of those drum…lined
walls of his。
Two…Hawks。 What was it that was trying to stir in his recollection？
Two…Hawks。 He was sure he had heard that name before。 Hawksley
meant nothing at all； but Two…Hawks possessed a strange attraction。
He stared off into space。 He might have heard the name in a tongue
other than English。
A sound。 It came from the lips of the young man。 Cutty frowned。
The poor chap wasn't breathing in a promising way； he groaned after
each inhalation。 And what had become of the old fellow Kitty called
Gregory？ A queer business。
Kitty came in with a basin and a roll of absorbent cotton。
〃He is groaning！〃 she whispered。
〃Pretty rocky condition； I should say。 That handkerchief in his cap
doubtless saved him。 Now； little lady； I frankly don't like the
idea of his being here。 Suppose he dies？ In that event there'll be
the very devil to pay。 You're all alone here； without even a maid。〃
〃Am I all alone？〃 … softly。
〃Well； no； come to think of it； I'm no longer your godfather in
theory。 Give me the cotton and hold the basin。〃
He was very tender。 The wound bled a little； but it was not the
kind that bled profusely。 It was less a cut than a smashing bruise。
〃Well； that's all I can do。 Who was this tenant Gregory？〃
〃A dear old man。 A valet at a Broadway hotel。 Oh； I forgot！
Johnny Two…Hawks called him Stefani Gregor。〃
〃Stefani Gregor？〃
〃
