boots！ For once the two bloods； always more or less at war； merged
in a common purpose … to kill this beast； to grind the face of him
into pulp！ Red torches and hobnailed boots！
Presently one of the huge passenger boats； moored for the winter；
loomed up through the fog； and toward this Hawksley directed his
steps。 He made a flying leap aboard and vanished round the
deckhouse to the river side。
Quasimodo laughed as he followed。 It was as if the tobacco pouch
and the appraiser's receipt were in his own pocket； and broad rivers
made capital graveyards。 They two alone in the fog！ He whirled
round the deckhouse … and backed on his heels to get his balance。
Directly in front； in a very understandable pose； was the intended
victim； his jaw jutting； his eyelids narrowed。
Quasimodo tried desperately to reach for his pistol； but a bolt of
lightning stopped the action。 There is something peculiar about a
blow on the nose； a good blow。 The Anglo…Saxon peoples alone
possess the counterattack … a rush。 To other peoples concentration
of thought is impossible after the impact。 Instinctively Quasimodo's
hands flew to his face。 He heard a laugh； mirthless and terrible。
Before he could drop his hands from his face…blows； short and
boring； from this side and from that； over and under。 The squat
man was brave enough； simply he did not know how to fight in this
manner。 He was accustomed to the use of steel and the hobnails on
his boots。 He struck wildly； swinging his arms like a Flemish mill
in a brisk wind。
Some of his blows got home； but these provoked only sardonic laughter。
Wild with rage and pain he bored in。 He had but one chance … to get
this shadow in his gorilla…like arms。 He lacked mental flexibility。
An idea； getting into his head； stuck； it was not adjustable。 Like
an arrow sped from the bowstring； it had to fulfill its destiny。
It never occurred to him to take to his heels； to get space between
himself and this enemy he had so woefully underestimated。 Ten feet；
and he might have been able to whirl； draw his pistol； and end the
affair。
The coup de grace came suddenly： a blow that caught Quasimodo full
on the point of the jaw。 He sagged and went sprawling upon his
face。 The victor turned him over and raised a heel。。。。 No！ He
was neither Prussian nor Sudanese black。 He was white； and white
men did not stamp in the faces of fallen enemies。
But there was one thing a white man might do in such a case without
disturbing the ethical； and he proceeded about it forthwith： Draw
the devil's fangs； render him impotent for a few hours。 He
deliberately knelt on one of the outspread arms and calmly emptied
the insensible man's pockets。 He took everything … watch； money；
passport； letters； pistol； keys … rose and dropped them into the
river。 He overlooked Quasimodo's belt； however。 The Anglo…Saxon
idea was top hole。 His fists had saved his life。
CHAPTER m
Hawksley heard the panting of an engine and turned his head。 Dimly
he saw a giant bridge and a long drab train moving across it。 He
picked up the fallen man's cap and tried it on。 Not a particularly
good fit； but it would serve。 He then trotted round the deckhouse
to the street side； jumped to the wharf； and sucking the cracked
knuckles of his right hand fell into a steady dogtrot which carried
him to the station he had left so hopefully an hour and a half gone。
An accommodation train eventually deposited him in Poughkeepsie；
where he purchased a cap and a sturdy walking stick。 The stubble
on his chin and cheeks began to irritate him intensely； but he could
not rid himself of the idea that a barber's chair would be inviting
danger。 He was now tolerably certain that from one end of the
continent to the other his presence was known。 His life and his
property； they would be after both。 Even now there might be men in
this strange town seeking him。 The closer he got to New York； the
more active and wide…awake they would become。
He walked the streets； his glance constantly roving。 But apparently
no one paid the least attention to him。 Finally he returned to the
railway station； and at six o'clock that evening he left the platform
of the 125th Street Station； and appraised covertly the men who
accompanied him to the street。 He felt assured that they were all
Americans。 Probably they were； but there are still some stray fools
of American birth who cannot accept the great American doctrine as
the only Ararat visible in this present flood。 Perhaps one of these
accompanied Hawksley to the street。 Whatever he was； one had upon
order met every south…going train since seven o'clock that morning；
when Quasimodo； paying from the gold hidden in his belt； had sent
forth the telegraphic alarm。 The man hurried across the street and
followed Hawksley by matching his steps。 His business was merely to
learn the other's destination and then to report。
Across the earth a tempest had been loosed； but Ariel did not ride
it； Caliban did。 The scythe of terror was harvesting a type； and
the innocent were bending with the guilty。
Suddenly Hawksley felt young； revivified； free。 He had arrived。
Surmounting indescribable hazards and hardships he walked the
pavement of New York。 In an hour the mutable quicksands of a great
city would swallow him forever。 Free！ He wanted to stroll about；
peer into shop windows； watch the amazing electric signs； dally；
but he still had much to accomplish。
He searched for a telephone sign。 It was necessary that he find
one immediately。 He had once spent six weeks in and about this
marvellous city； and he had a vague recollection of the
blue…and…white enamel signs。 Shortly he found one。 It was a
pay station in the rear of a news and tobacco shop。
He entered a booth； but discovered that he had no five…cent pieces
in his purse。 He hurried out to the girl behind the cigar stand。
She was exhibiting a box of cigars to a customer； who selected
three； paid for them； and walked away。 Hawksley； boiling with
haste to have his affair done； flung a silver coin toward the girl。
〃Five…cent pieces！〃
〃Will you take them with you or shall I send them？〃 asked the girl；
earnestly。
〃I beg pardon！〃
〃Any particular kind of ribbon you want the box tied with？〃
〃I beg your pardon！〃 repeated Hawksley； harried and bewildered。
〃But I'm in a hurry … 〃
〃Too much of a hurry to leave out the bark when you ask a favour？
I make change out of courtesy。 And you all bark at me Nickel！
Nickel！ as if that was my job。〃
〃A thousand apologies！〃 … contritely。
〃And don't make it any worse by suggesting a movie after supper。
My mother never lets me go out after dark。〃
〃I rather fancy she's quite sensible。 Still； you seem able to
take care of yourself。 I might suggest …〃
〃With that black eye？ Nay； nay！ I'll bet somebody's brother gave
it to you。〃
〃Venus was not on that occasion in ascendancy。 Thank you for the
change。〃 Hawksley swung on his heel and reentered the booth。
A great weariness oppressed him。 A longing； almost irresistible；
came to him to go out and cry aloud： 〃Here I am！ Kill me！ I am
tired and done！〃 For he had recognized the purchaser of the cigars
as one of the men who had left the 125th Street Station at the same
time as he。 He remembered distinctly that this man had been in a
hurry。 Perhaps the whole dizzy affair was reacting upon his
imagination psychologically and turning harmless individuals into
enemies。
〃Hello！〃 said a man's voice over the wire。
〃Is Mr。 Rathbone there？〃
〃Captain Rathbone is with his regiment at Coblenz； sir。〃
〃Coblenz？〃
〃Yes； sir。 I do not expect his return until near midsummer； sir。
Who is this talking？〃
〃Have you opened a cable from Yokohama？〃
〃This is Mr。 Hawksley！〃 The voice became excited。
〃Oh； sir！ You will come right away。 I alone understand； sir。 You
will remember me when you see me。 I'm the captain's butler； sir
… Jenkins。 He cabled back to give you the entire run of the house
as long as you desired it。 He advised me to notify you that he had
also prepared his banker against your arrival。 Have your luggage
sent here at once； sir。 Dinner will be at your convenience。〃
Hawksley's body relaxed。 A lump came into his throat。 Here was a
friend； anyhow； ready to serve him though he was thousands of miles
away。
When he could trust himself to speak he said： 〃Sorry。 It will be
impossible to accept the hospitality at present。 I shall call in
a few days； however； to establish my identity。 Thank you。 Good
evening。〃
〃Just a moment； sir。 I may have an important cable to transmit to
you。 It would be wise to leave me your address； sir。〃
Hawksley hesitated a moment。 After all； he could trust this perfect
old servant； whom he remembered。 He gave the address。
As he came out of the booth the girl stretched forth an arm to
detain him。 He stopped。
〃I'm sorry I spoke like that；〃 she said。 〃But I'm so tired！ I've
been on my feet all day； and everybody's been barking and growling；
and if I'd taken in as many nickels as I've passed out in change the
boss would be rich。〃
〃Give me a dozen of those roses there。〃 She sold flowers also。
〃The pink ones。 How much？〃 he asked。
〃Two…fifty。〃
He laid down the money。 〃Never mind the box。 They are for you。
Good evening。〃
The girl stared at the flowers as Ali Baba must have stared at the
cask with rubies。
〃For me！〃 she whispered。 〃For nothing！〃
Her eyes blurred。 She never saw Hawksley again； but that was of
no importance。 She had a gentle deed to put away in the lavender
of recollection。
Outside Hawksley could see nothing of the man who had bought the
cigars。 At any rate； further dodging would be useless。 He would
go directly to his destination。 Old Gregor had sent him a duplicate
key to the apartment。 He could hide there for a day or two； then
visit Rathbone's banker at his residence in the night to establish
his identity。 Gregor could be trusted to carry the wallet and the
pouch to the bank。 Once these were walled in steel half the battle
would be over。 He would have nothing to guard thereafter but his
life。 He laughed brokenly。 Nothing