the drums of jeopardy-第51章
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you tell me it is deadly； but you don't tell me which end is deadly。
Do you know who this Russian is？〃
〃Honestly； I don't。〃
〃Does Cutty？〃
〃I don't know that； either。〃
〃Did you ever hear of a pair of emeralds called the drums of
jeopardy？〃
〃Nope。 But I do know if you continue these stunts you'll head the
whole game into the ditch。〃
〃You may set your mind at ease。 I'm going to marry Cutty。 I shall
not go to the apartment again until Hawksley； as he is called； is
gone。〃
〃Well； well； that's good news！ But let me put you wise to one fact；
Miss Conover： you have picked some man！ I'm not much of a scholar；
but knowing him as I do I'm always wondering why they made Faith；
Hope； and Charity in female form。 But this night's work was bad
business。 They know where the Russian is now； and if the game lasts
long enough they'll reach the chief； find out who he is； and that'll
put the kibosh on his usefulness here and abroad。 Well； here's home；
and no more lecture from me。〃
〃Sorry I've been so much trouble。〃
〃Perhaps we ought to have shown you which end shoots。〃
〃Good…night。〃
If Kitty had any doubt as to the wisdom of her decision； the cold；
gloomy rooms of her apartment dissipated them。 She wandered through
the rooms； musing； calling back animated scenes。 What would the
spirit of her mother say？ Had she doddered between Conover and
Cutty？ Perhaps。 But she had been one of the happy few who had
guessed right。 Singular thought： her mother would have been happy
with Cutty； too。
Oh； the relief of knowing what the future was going to be！ She
took off her hat and tossed it upon the table。 The good things
of life； and a good comrade。
Food。 The larder would be empty and there was her breakfast to
consider。 She passed out into the kitchen； wrote out a list of
necessities； and put it on the dumb waiter。 Now for the dishes
she had so hurriedly left。 She rolled up her sleeves； put on the
apron； and fell to the task。 After such a night … dish…washing！
She laughed。 It was a funny old world。
Pauses。 Perhaps she should have gone to a hotel； away from all
familiar objects。 Those flatirons intermittently pulled her eyes
round。 Her fancy played tricks with her whenever her glance touched
the window。 Faces peering in。 In a burst of impatience she dropped
the dish towel； hurried to the window； and threw it up。 Black
emptiness！ 。。。 Cutty； crossing the platform with Hawksley on his
shoulders。 She saw that； and it comforted her。
She finished her work and started for bed。 But first she entered
the guest room and turned on the lights。 Olga。 She had intended
to ask him who Olga was。
A great pity。 They might have been friends。 The back of her hand
went to her lips but did not touch them。 She could not rub away
those burning kisses … that is； not with the back of her hand。
Vividly she saw him fiddling bareheaded in front of the Metropolitan
Opera House。 It seemed； though； that it had happened years ago。 A
great pity。 The charm of that frolic would abide with her as long
as she lived。 A brave man； too。 Hadn't he left her with a gay wave
of the hand； not knowing； for want of strength； if he could make the
detour of the block？ That took courage。 His journey halfway across
the world had taken courage。 Yet he could so basely disillusion her。
It was not the kiss； it was the smile。 She had seen that smile
before； born of evil。 If only he had spoken！
The heavenly magic of that fiddle！ It made her sad。 Genius； the
ability to play with souls； soothe； tantalize； lift up； and then to
smile at her like that！
She shut down the curtain upon these cogitations and summoned Cutty；
visualized his handsome head； shot with gray； the humour of his
smile。 She did care for him； no doubt of that。 She couldn't have
sent that telegram else。 Cutty … name of a pipe； as the Frenchmen
said！ All at once she rocked with laughter。 She was going to marry
a man whose given name she could not recall！ Henry； George； John；
William？ For the life of her she could not remember。
And with this laughter still bubbling in a softer note she got into
bed； twisted about from side to side； from this pillow to that； the
tired body seeking perfect relaxation。
A broken melody entered her head。 Sleepily she sought one channel
of thought after another to escape； still the melody persisted。 As
her consciousness dodged hither and thither the bars and measures
joined。。。。 She sat up； chilled； bewildered。 That Tschaikowsky
waltz！ She could hear it as clearly as if Johnny Two…Hawks and the
Amati were in the very room。 She grew afraid。 Of what？ She did
not know。
And while she sat there in bed threshing out this fear to find the
grain； Cutty was tramping the streets of Washington； her telegram
crumpled in his hand。 From time to time he would open it and reread
it under a street lamp。
To marry her and then to cheat her。 It wasn't humanly possible to
marry her and then to let her go。 He thought of those warm； soft
arms round his neck； the absolute trust of that embrace。 Molly's
girl。 No； he could not do it。 He would have to back down； tell
her he could not put the bargain through； invent some other scheme。
The idea had been repugnant to her。 It had taken her a week to
fight it out。 It was a little beyond his reach； however； why the
idea should have been repugnant to her。 It entailed nothing beyond
a bit of mummery。 The repugnance was not due to religious training。
The Conover household； as he recalled it； had been rather lax in
that respect。 Why； then； should Kitty have hesitated？
He thought of Hawksley； and swore。 But for Hawksley's suggestion
no muddle like this would have occurred。 Devil take him and his
infernal green stones！
Cutty suddenly remembered his train。 He looked at his watch and
saw that his lower berth was well on the way to Baltimore。 Always
and eternally he was missing something。
CHAPTER XXIX
Not unusually； when we burn our bridges； we have in the back of our
minds the dim hope that there may be a shallow ford somewhere。 Thus；
bridges should not be burned impulsively； there may be no ford。
The idea of retreat pushed forward in Kitty's mind the moment she
awoke； but she pressed it back in shame。 She had given her word；
and she would stand by it。
The night had been a series of wild impulses。 She had not sent that
telegram to Cutty as the result of her deliberations in the country。
Impulse； a flash； and the thing was done； her bridges burned。 To
crush Johnny Two…Hawks； fill his cup with chagrin； she had told him
she was going to marry Cutty。 That was the milk in the cocoanut。
Morning has a way of showing up night…gold for what it is … tinsel。
Kitty saw the stage of last night's drama dismantled。 If there was
a shallow ford； she would never lower her pride to seek it。 She
had told Two…Hawks； sent that wire to Cutty； broke the news to
Bernini。
But did she really want to go back？ Not to know her own mind； to
swing back and forth like a pendulum！ Was it because she feared
that； having married Cutty； she might actually fall in love with
some other man later？ She could still go through the mummery as
Cutty had planned； but what about all the sublime generosity of
the preceding night？
A queer feeling pervaded her： She was a marionette； a human
manikin； and some invisible hand was pulling the wires that made
her do all these absurd things。 Her own mind no longer controlled
her actions。 The persistence of that waltz！ It had haunted her；
broken into her dreams； awakened her out of them。 Why should she
be afraid？ What was there to be afraid of in a recurring melody？
She had heard a dozen famed violinists play it。 It had never
before affected her beyond a flash of emotionalism。 Perhaps it
was the romantic misfortune of the man； the mystery surrounding
him； the menace which walled him in。
Breakfast。 Human manikins had appetites。 So she made her
breakfast。 Before leaving the kitchen she stopped at the window。
The sun filled the court with brilliant light。 The patches of
rust on the fire…escape ladder； which was on the Gregor side of
the pl
