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 characteristics； which she had fought
valiantly … love of good times and of pretty clothes … made ingress
easy for this sinister and cynical idea。 Having gained a foothold
it pressed forward boldly。 Cutty； who had everything … strength；
comeliness； wisdom； and money。 To live among all those beautiful
things； never to be lonely again； to be waited on； fussed over； made
much of； taken into the high world。 Never more to add up accounts；
to stretch five…dollar bills across the chasm of seven days。 An
old man's darling！
〃No； no； no！〃 she burst out； passionately。 She drew a hand across
her eyes。 As if that gesture could rub out an evil thought！ It is
all very well to say 〃Avaunt！〃 But if the idea will not？ 〃I
couldn't； I couldn't！ I'd be a liar and a cheat。 But he is so
nice！ If he did want me！ 。。。 No； no！ Just for comforts！ I
couldn't！ What a miserable wretch I am！〃
She caught up the copper jug and still holding the roses to her
heart； the tears streaming down her cheeks； rushed out to the kitchen
for water。 She dropped the green stems into the jug； buried her
face in the buds to cool the hot shame on her cheeks； and remembered
… what a ridiculous thing the mind was！ … that she had three shirt
waists to iron。 She set the jug on the kitchen table； where it
remained for many hours； and walked over to the range； to the
flatiron shelf。 As she reached for a flatiron her hand stopped in
midair。
A fat black wallet！ Instantly she knew who had placed it there。
That poor Johnny Two…Hawks！
Kitty lifted out the wallet from behind the flatirons。 No doubt of
it； Johnny Two…Hawks had placed it there when she had gone to the
speaking tube to summon the janitor。 Not knowing if he would ever
call for it！ Preferring that she rather than his enemies should
have it。 And without a word！ What a simple yet amazing hiding
place； and but for the need of a flatiron the wallet would have
stayed there until she moved。 Left it there； with the premonition
that he was heading into trouble。 But what if they had killed him？
How would she have explained the wallet's presence in her apartment？
Good gracious； what an escape！
Without direct consciousness she raised the flap。 She saw the edges
of money and documents； but she did not touch anything。 There was
no need。 She knew it belonged to Johnny Two…Hawks。 Of course there
was an appalling attraction。 The wallet was； figuratively； begging
to be investigated。 But resolutely she closed the flap。 Why？
Because it was as though Two…Hawks had placed the wallet in her
hands； charging her to guard it against the day he reclaimed it。
There was no outward proof that the wallet was his。 She just knew；
that was all。
Still； she examined the outside carefully。 In one corner had been
originally a monogram or a crest； effectually obliterated by the
application of fire。
Who he was and what he was； by a simple turn of the wrist。 It was
Cutty's affair now； not hers。 He had a legal right to examine the
contents。 He was an agent of the Federal Government。 The drums of
jeopardy and Stefani Gregor and Johnny Two…Hawks； all interwoven。
She had waited in vain for Cutty to mention the emeralds。 What
signified his silence？ She had indirectly apprised him of the fact
that she knew the author of that advertisement offering to purchase
the drums； no questions asked。 Who but Cutty in New York would know
about them？ The mark of the thong。 Johnny Two…Hawks had been
carrying the drums； and Karlov's men had torn them from their
victim's neck during the battle。 Was there any reason why Cutty
should not have taken her completely into his confidence？ Palaces
looted。 If Stefani Gregor had lived in a palace； why not his
protege？ Still； it was possible Cutty was holding back until he
could tell her everything。
But what to do with it？ If she called him up and made known her
discovery； Cutty would rush up as fast as a taxicab could bring him。
He had peremptorily ordered her not to come to