the drums of jeopardy-第32章
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Somehow this picture lightened the depression。
〃My fingers are stiff;〃 said Hawksley。 〃My hand is tired。 I should
like to be alone。〃 He lay back rather inertly。
In the corridor Cutty whispered to the dealer: 〃What do you think
of him?〃
〃As he says; his touch shows a little stiffness; but the wonderful
fire is there。 He's an amateur; but a fine one。 Practice will
bring him to a finish in no time。 But I never heard an Englishman
play a violin like that before。〃
〃Nor I;〃 Cutty agreed。 〃When the owner sends for that fiddle let
me know。 Mr。 Hawksley might like to dicker for it。 If you know
where the owner is you might cable that you have an offer of twelve
thousand。〃
〃I'm sorry; but I haven't the least idea where the owner is。 However;
there is an understanding that if the loan isn't covered in eighteen
months the instrument becomes salable for my own protection。 There
is a year still to run。〃
Four o'clock found Cutty pacing his study; the room blue with smoke。
Of all the queer chaps he had met in his varied career this Two…Hawks
topped the lot。 The constant internal turmoil that must be going on;
the instincts of the blood … artist and autocrat! And in the end;
the owner of a cattle ranch; if he had the luck to get there alive!
Dizzy old world。
Something else happened at four o'clock。 A policeman strolled into
Eightieth Street。 He was at peace with the world。 Spring was in
his whistle; in his stride; in the twirl of his baton。 Whenever
he passed a shop window he made it serve as a mirror。 No waistline
yet … a comforting thought。
Children swarmed the street and gathered at corners。 The older ones
played boldly in midstreet; while the toddlers invented games that
kept them to the sidewalk and curb。 The policeman came stealthily
upon one of these latter groups … Italians。 At the sight of his
brass buttons they fled precipitately。 He laughed。 Once in a month
of moons he was able to get near enough to touch them。 Natural。
Hadn't he himself hiked in the old days at the sight of a copper?
Sure; he had。
A bit of colour on the sidewalk attracted his eye; and he picked up
the object。 Something those kids had been playing with。 A bit of
red glass out of a piece of cheap jewellery。 Not half bad for a
fake。 He would put one over on Maggie when he turned in for supper。
Certainly this was the age of imitation。 You couldn't buy a brass
button with any confidence。 He put the trinket in his pocket and
continued on; soon to forget it。
At six he was off duty。 As he was leaving the precinct the desk
sergeant called him back。
〃Got change for a dollar; an' I'll settle that pinochle debt;〃
offered the sergeant。
〃I'll take a look。〃 The policeman emptied his coin pocket。
〃What's that yuh got there?〃
〃Which?〃
〃The red stone?〃
〃Oh; that? Picked it up on the sidewalk。 Some Italian kids dropped
it as they skedaddled。〃
〃Let's have a look。〃
〃Sure。〃 The policeman passed over the stone。
〃Gee! That looks like real money。 Say; they can do anything with
glass these days。〃
〃They sure can。
A man in civilian clothes … a detective from headquarters … went up
to the desk。 〃What you guys got there?〃
〃A ruby this boob picks up off'n the sidewalk;〃 said the sergeant;
winking at the finder; who grinned。
〃Let's have a squint at it。〃
The stone was handed to him。 The detective stared at it carefully;
holding it on his palm and rocking it gently under the desk light。
Crimson darts of flame answered to this treatment。 He pushed back
his hat。
〃Well; you boobs!〃 he drawled。
〃What's the matter?〃
〃Matter? Why; this is a ruby! A whale of a ruby; an' pigeon blood
at that! I didn't work in the' appraiser's office for nothing。 But
for a broken point … kids probably tried to crack it … it would
stack up somewhere between three and four thousand dollars!〃
The sergeant and the policemen barked simultaneously: 〃What?〃
〃A pigeon blood。 Where was it you found it?〃
〃Holy Moses! On Eightieth。〃
〃Any chance of finding that bunch of kids?〃
〃Not a chance; not a chance! If I got the hull district here there
wouldn't be nothin' doin'。 The kids'd be too scared t' remember
anything。 A pigeon…blood ruby; an' I wasn't gonna pick it up at
first!〃
〃Lock it up; sergeant;〃 ordered the detective。 〃I'll pass the word
to headquarters。 Too big for a ring。 Probably fallen from a pin。
But there'll be a holler in a few hours。 Lost or stolen; there'll
be some big noise。 You two boobs!〃
〃Well; whadda yuh know about that?〃 whined the policeman。 〃An' me
thinkin' it was glass!〃
But there was no big noise。 No one had reported the loss or theft
of a pigeon…blood ruby of unusual size and quality。
CHAPTER XIX
Kitty came home at nine that night; dreadfully tired。 She had that
day been rocked by so many emotions。 She had viewed the parade from
the windows of a theatrical agency; and she had cheered and cried
like everybody else。 Her eyes still smarted; and her throat betrayed
her every time she recalled what she had seen。 Those boys!
Loneliness。 She had dined downtown; and on the way home the shadow
had stalked beside her。 Loneliness。 Never before had these rooms
seemed so empty; empty。 If God had only given her a brother and he
had marched in that glorious parade; what fun they two would be
having at this moment! Empty rooms; not even a pet。
Loneliness。 She had been a silly little fool to stand so aloof;
just because she was poor and lived in a faded locality。 She mocked
herself。 Poor but proud; like the shopgirl in the movies。 Denied
herself companionship because she was ashamed of her genteel poverty。
And now she was paying for it。 Silly little fool! It wasn't as if
she did not know how to make and keep friends。 She knew she had
attractions。 Just a senseless false pride。 The best friends in the
world; after a series of rebuffs; would drop away。 Her mother's
friends never called any more; because of her aloofness。 She had
only a few girl friends; and even these no doubt were beginning to
think her uppish。
She did not take off her hat and coat。 She wandered through the
empty rooms; undecided。 If she went to a movie the rooms would be
just as lonely when she returned。 Companionship。 The urge of it
was so strong that there was a temptation to call up someone; even
someone she had rebuffed。 She was in the mood to confess everything
and to make an honest attempt to start all over again … to accept
friendship and let pride go hang。 Impulsively she started for the
telephone; when the doorbell rang。
Immediately the sense of loneliness fell away。 Another chapter in
the great game of hide and seek that had kept her from brooding
until to…night? The doorbell carried a new message these days。
Nine o'clock。 Who could be calling at that hour? She had forgotten
to advise Cutty of the fact that someone had gone through the
apartment。 She could not positively assert the fact。 Those articles
in her bureau she herself might have disturbed。 She might have taken
a handkerchief in a hurry; hunted for something under the lingerie
impatiently。 Still she could not rid herself of the feeling that
alien hands had been rifling her belongings。 Not Bernini; decidedly。
Remembering Cutty's advice about opening the door with her foot
against it; she peered out。 No emissary of Bolshevisim here。 A
weary little messenger boy with a long box in his arms called her
name。
〃Miz Conover?〃
〃Yes。〃
The boy thrust the box into her hands and clumped to the stairhead。
Kitty slammed the door and ran into the living room; tearing open
the box as she ran。 Roses from Cutty; she knew it。 The old darling!
Just when she was on the verge of breaking down and crying! She let
the box fall to the floor and cuddled the flowers to her heart; her
eyes filling。 Cutty。
One of those ideas which sometime or another spring into the minds
of all pretty women who are poor sprang into hers … an idea such as
an honest woman might muse over; only to reject。 Sinister and
cynical。 Kitty was at this moment in rather a desperate frame of
mind。 Those two inherent characteri