the drums of jeopardy-第37章
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blood and money that asked only for simple justice to mankind。 The
ideal of a great people … a mixture of all bloods； even German！ No
lessons in these tremendous happenings！ And you babble about your
damned proletariat who represents the dregs of Russia。 What is he？
The inefficient； whining that the other man has the luck； so kill
him！ Russia； the kindly ox； fallen among wolves！ You cannot tear
down the keystone of civilization … which took seven thousand years
to construct … insert it upside down； and expect the arch to stand。
You have your chance to prove your theories。 Prove them in
Petrograd and Moscow； and you will not have to go forth with the
torch。 And what is this torch but the hidden fear that you may be
wrong？ 。。。 To wreck the world before you are found out！ You are
idiots； and you have turned Russia into a madhouse！ Spawns from
the dung…heap！〃
〃Damn you； Stefani Gregor！〃 Karlov rushed to the cot； raised his
terrible fists； his chest heaving。 Gregor waited。 〃No； no！ You
wish to die！〃 The madman swung on his heels and dashed toward the
door； sweeping the pieces of the violin to the floor as he passed
the table。
Gregor feebly drew himself back upon his cot and laid his face in
the pillow。
〃Ivan … my violin … all that I knew and loved … gone！ And God will
not let me die！〃
CHAPTER XXI
》From a window in one of the vacant warehouses； twenty…odd feet away
Cutty； from an oblique angle； had witnessed the peculiar drama
without being able to grasp head or tail to it。 For two hours he
had crouched behind his window； watching the man on the cot and
wondering if he would ever turn his face toward the candlelight。
Then Karlov had entered。 Gregor's ironic calm … with the exception
of the time he had bared his throat … and Karlov's tempestuous exit
baffled him。 To the eye it had the appearance of a victory for
Gregor and a defeat for Karlov； but Cutty had long ago ceased to
believe his eyes without some corroborative evidence of auricular
character。
He had recognized both men。 Karlov answered to Kitty's description
as an old glove answers to the hand。 And no man； once having seen
Gregor； could possibly forget his picturesque head。 The old chap
was alive！ This fact made the night's adventure tally one hundred
per cent。 How to get a cheery word to him； to buck him up with；
the promise of help？ A hard nut to crack； so many obstacles。
Primarily； this was a Federal affair。 Yonder hid the werewolf and
his pack； and it would be folly to send them scattering just for the
sake of advising Gregor that he was being watched over。
Underneath the official obligation there was a personal interest in
not risking the game to warn Gregor。 Cutty was now positive that
the drums of jeopardy were hidden somewhere in this house。 To
perform three acts； then： Save Gregor； capture Karlov and his pack；
and privately confiscate the emeralds。 Findings were keepings。 No
compromise regarding those green stones。 It would not particularly
hurt his reputation with St。 Peter to play the half rogue once in
a lifetime。 Besides； St。 Peter； hadn't he stolen something himself
back there in the Biblical days ； or got into a scrape or something？
The old boy would understand。 Cutty grinned in the dark。
Any obsession is a blindfold。 A straight course lay open to Cutty；
but he chose the labyrinthian because he was obsessed。 He wanted
those emeralds。 Nothing less than the possession of them would； to
his thinking； round out a varied and active career。 Later； perhaps；
he would declare the stones to the customs and pay the duty； perhaps。
Thus his subsequent mishaps this night may be laid to the fact that
he thought and saw through green spectacles。
The idea that the jewels were hidden near by made it imperative that
he should handle this affair exclusively。 Coles； the operative he
had sent to negotiate with Karlov； was conceivably a prisoner
upstairs or down。 Coles knew about the drums； and they must not
turn up under his eye。 Federal property； in that event。
If ever he laid his hands upon the drums he would buy something
gorgeous for Kitty。 Little thoroughbred！
Time for work。 Without doubt Karlov had cellar exits through this
warehouse or the other。 The job on hand would be first to locate
these exits； and then to the trap on the roof。 With his pocket lamp
blazing a trail he went down to the cellar and carefully inspected
the walls that abutted those of the house。 Nothing on this side。
He left the warehouse and hugged the street wall for a space。 The
street was deserted。 Instead of passing Karlov's abode he wisely
made a detour of the block。 He reached the entrance to the second
warehouse without sighting even a marauding tom。 In the cellar of
this warehouse he discovered a newly made door； painted skillfully
to represent the limestone of the foundation。 Tiptop。
Immediately he outlined the campaign。 There should be two drives
… one from the front and another from the roof … so that not an
anarchist or Bolshevik could escape。 The mouth of the Federal sack
should be held at this cellar exit。 No matter what kind of game he
played offside； the raid itself must succeed absolutely。 Nothing
should swerve him from making these plans as perfect as it was
humanly possible。 He would be on hand to search Karlov himself。
If the drums were not on him he would return and pick the old
mansion apart； lath by lath。 Gay old ruffian； wasn't he？
Another point worth considering： He would keep his discoveries under
cover until the hour to strike came。 Some over…zealous subordinate
might attempt a coup on his own and spoil everything。
He picked his way to the far end of the cellar； to the doors。 Locks
gone。 He took it for granted that the real…estate agent would not
come round with prospective tenants。 These doors would take them
into the trucking alley； where there were a dozen feasible exits。
There was no way out of the house yard； as the brick wall； ten feet
high and running from warehouse to warehouse； was blind。 Now for
the trap on the roof。
He climbed the three flights of stairs crisscrossed and festooned
with ancient cobwebs。 Occasionally he sneezed in the crook of his
elbow； philosophizing over the fact that there was a lot of deadwood
property in New York。 Americans were eternally on the move。
The window from which he intended dropping to the house roof was
obdurate。 Only the upper half was movable。 With hardly any noise
at all he pulled this down； straddled it； balanced himself； secured
a good grip on the ledge； and let himself down。 The tips of his
shoes； rubber…soled； just reached the roof。 He landed silently。
The glare of the street lamp at the corner struck the warehouse；
and this indirect light was sufficient to work by。 He made the
trap after a series of extra…cautious steps。 The roof was slanting
and pebbled； and the least turn of the foot might start a cascade
and bell an alarm。 A comfort…loving dress…suiter like himself；
playing Old Sleuth； when he ought to be home and in bed！ It was all
of two…thirty。 What the deuce would he do when there were no more
thrills in life？
He stooped and caught hold of a corner of the trap to test it … and
drew back with a silent curse。 Glass！ He had cut his hand。 The
beggars had covered the trap with cement and broken glass； sealing
it。 It would take time to cut round the trap； and even then he
wouldn't be sure； they might have nailed it down from the inside。
The worst of it was he would have to do the work himself； and in the
meantime Karlov would have a fair wind for his propaganda gas； and
perhaps the disposal of the drums to some collector who wasn't above
bargaining for smuggled emeralds。 Odd； though； that Karlov should
have made a prisoner of Coles。 What lay behind that manoeuvre？
Well； this trap must be liberated； no getting round that。
Hang it； he wasn't going to be dishonest exactly； it would be simply
a double play； half for Uncle Sam and half for himself。 The idea
of offering freely his blood and money to Uncle Sam and at the same
time putting one over on the old gentleman had a novel appeal。
H
