the drums of jeopardy- 第47部分

〃Yes；　sir。　　Just　this　minute　went　out。〃

〃Did　he　speak？〃

〃A　woman's　name。〃

〃Rosa？〃

〃Yes；　sir。　　Looks　to　me　as　if　he　had　been　starved　to　death。　　Know
who　he　was？〃

〃Yes。　　Tell　the　coroner　to　be　gentle。　　Once　upon　a　time　Stefani
Gregor　spoke　to　kings　by　right　of　genius。〃

The　thought　that　he　himself　might　have　been　the　indirect　cause　of
Gregor's　death　shocked　Cutty；　who　was　above　all　things　tender。

He　had　held　back　the　raid　for　several　days；　to　serve　his　own　ends。
He　could　have　ordered　the　raid　from　Washington；　and　it　would　have
gone　through　as　smoothly　as　to…night。　　The　drums　of　jeopardy。　　Well；
that　phase　of　the　game　was　done　with。　　He　had　held　up　this　raid　so
that　he　might　be　on　hand　to　search　Karlov；　and　until　now　he　had
forgotten　the　drums。　　Accurst！　　They　were　accurst。　　The　death　of
Stefani　Gregor　would　always　be　on　his　conscience。

Cutty　stared　…　not　very　clearly　…　at　the　cameo…like　face　so
beautifully　calm。　　As　in　life；　so　it　was　in　death；　the　calm　that
had　brooked　and　beaten　down　the　turbulent　instincts　of　the　boy；
the　imperturbable　calm　of　a　great　soul。　　Rosa。　　The　sublime
unselfishness　of　the　man！　　He　had　sacrificed　wealth　and　fame　for
the　love　of　the　boy's　mother　…　unspoken；　unrequited　love；　the
quality　that　passes　understanding。　　And　his　reward：　to　die　on　this
cot；　in　horrid　loneliness。　　Rosa。

All　at　once　Cutty　felt　himself　little；　trivial；　beside　this　forlorn
bier。　　What　did　he　know　about　love？　　He　had　never　made　any
sacrifices；　he　had　simply　carried　in　his　heart　a　bittersweet
recollection。　　But　here！　　Twenty…odd　years　of　unremitting　devotion
to　the　son　of　the　woman　he　had　loved　…　Stefani　Gregor。　　Creating
environments　that　would　develop　the　noble　qualities　in　the　boy；
interposing　himself　between　the　boy　and　the　evil　pleasures　of　the
uncle；　teaching　him　the　beautiful；　cleansing　his　soul　of　the
inherited　mud。　　Reverently　Cutty　drew　the　coverlet　over　the　fine
old　head。

〃What's　this？〃　asked　one　of　the　operatives。　　〃Looks　like　the　pieces
of　a　broken　fiddle。〃

Out　of　those　dark　red　bits　of　wood　…　some　of　them　bearing　the
imprints　of　hobnails　…　Cutty　constructed　the　scene。　　A　wave　of
bitter　rage　rolled　over　him。　　The　beast！　　Karlov　had　done　this
thing；　with　poor　old　Gregor　looking　on；　too　weak　to　intervene。
Not　so　many　years　ago　these　bits　of　wood；　under　the　master's
touch；　had　entranced　the　souls　of　thousands。　　Cutty　recalled　a
fairy　tale　he　had　read　when　a　boy　about　a　prince　whose　soul　had
been　transformed　into　a　flower　which；　if　plucked　or　broken；　died。
Karlov　had　murdered　Stefani　Gregor；　perhaps　not　legally　but
actually　nevertheless。

Rehabilitated　in　soul；　Cutty　left　the　room。　　He　had　read　a
compelling　lesson　in　self…sacrifice。　　He　was　going　to　pick　up　his
cross　and　go　on　with　it；　smiling。　　After　all；　Kitty　was　only　an
interlude；　the　big　thing　was　the　game；　and　shortly　he　would　be　in
the　thick　of　great　events　again。　　But　Kitty　should　be　happy。

His　old　analytical　philosophy　resumed　its　functions。　　The　contempt
and　jealousy　of　one　race　for　another；　what　was　God's　idea　in
implanting　that　in　souls？　　Hawksley　was　at　base　Russian。　　The　boy's
English　education；　his　adopted　outlook　upon　life；　made　it　possible
for　Cutty　to　ignore　the　racial　antagonism　of　the　Anglo…Saxon　for
all　other　races。　　Stefani　Gregor　at　one　end　of　the　world　and　he　at
the　other；　blindly　working　out　the　destinies　of　Kitty　Conover　and
Ivan　Mikhail　Feodorovich　and　so　forth　and　so　on；　with　the　blood
of　Catharine　in　his　veins！　　Made　a　chap　dizzy　to　think　of　it。
Traditions　were　piling　up　along　with　crowns　and　sceptres　in　the
abyss。

When　he　returned　to　the　attic　he　felt　himself　fortified　against
any　inevitability。　　Hawksley　was　sitting　up；　his　back　to　the　wall；
staring　groggily　but　with　reckless　adoration　into　Kitty's　lovely
face。　　Youth　will　be　served。　　As　if；　watching　these　two；　there
could　be　any　doubt　of　it！　　And　he　had　bent　part　of　his　energies
toward　keeping　them　separated。

〃Ha！〃　he　cried；　cheerfully。　　〃Back　on　top　again；　I　see。　　How's
the　head？〃

〃Haven't　any；　no　legs；　I'm　nothing　at　all　but　a　bit　of　my　own
imagination。　　How　do　you　feel？〃

〃Like　the　aftermath　of　an　Irish　wake。〃　　Then　Cutty's　battered　face
assumed　an　expression　that　was　meant　to　typify　gravity。　　〃John；〃　he　
aid；　〃I've　bad　news　for　you。〃

John。　　A　glow　went　over　the　young　man's　aching　body。　　John。　　What
could　that　signify　except　that　he　had　passed　into　the　eternal
friendship　of　this　old　thoroughbred？　　John。

〃About　Stefani？〃

〃Stefani　is　dead。　　He　died　speaking　your　mother's　name。〃

Hawksley's　head　sank；　his　chin　touched　his　chest。　　He　spoke　without
looking　up。　　〃Something　told　me　I　would　never　see　him　alive　again。
Old　Stefani！　　If　there　is　any　good　in　me　it　will　be　his　handiwork。
〃I　say；〃　he　added；　his　eyes　now　seeking　Cutty's；　〃you　called　me
John。　　Will　you　carry　on？〃

〃Keep　an　eye　on　you？　　So　long　as　you　may　need　me。〃

〃I　come　from　a　lawless　race。　　Stefani　had　to　fight。　　Even　now　I'm
afraid　sometimes。　　God　knows　I　want　to　be　all　he　tried　to　make　me。〃

〃You're　all　right；　John。　　You've　reached　haven；　the　storms　hereafter
will　be　outside。　　Besides；　Stefani　will　always　be　with　you。　　You'll
never　pick　up　that　old　Amati　without　feeling　Stefani　near。　　Can
you　stand？〃

〃Between　the　two　of　you；　perhaps。〃

With　Kitty　on　one　side　and　Cutty　on　the　other　Hawksley　managed　the
descent　tolerably　well。　　Often　a　foot　dragged。　　How　strong　she　was；
this　girl！　　No　hysterics；　no　confusion；　after　all　that　racket；　with
death　…　or　something　worse　…　reaching　out　toward　her；　calmly　telling
him　that　there　was　another　step；　warning　him　not　to　bear　too　heavily
on　Cutty！　　Holding　him　up　physically　and　morally；　these　two；　now　all
he　had　in　life　to　care　for。　　Yesterday；　unknown　to　him；　this　night；
bound　by　hoops　of　steel。　　The　girl　had　forgiven　him；　he　knew　it　by
the　touch　of　her　arm。。。。　　Old　Stefani！　　A　sob　escaped　him。　　Their
arms　tightened。

〃No；　I　was　thinking　of　Stefani。　　Rather　hard　…　to　die　all　alone
　…　because　he　loved　me。〃

Kitty　longed　to　be　alone。　　There　were　still　many　unshed　tears　…　some
for　Cutty；　some　for　Stefani　Gregor；　some　for　Johnny　Two…Hawks；　and
some　for　herself。

In　the　limousine　Cutty　sat　in　the　middle；　Kitty　on　his　left　and
Hawksley　on　his　right；　his　arms　round　them　both。　　Presently
Hawksley's　head　touched　his　shoulder　and　rested　there；　a　little
later　Kitty　did　likewise。　　His　children！　　Lord；　he　was　going　to
have　a　tremendous　interest　in　life；　after　all！　　He　smiled　with
kindly　irony　at　the　back　of　the　chauffeur。　　His　children；　these
two；　and　he　knew　as　he　planned　their　future　that　they　were　thinking
over　and　round　but　not　of　him；　which　is　the　way　of　youth。

At　the　apartment　Cutty　decided　to　let　Hawksley　sit　in　an　easy　chair
in　the　living　room　until　Captain　Harrison　arrived。　　Kuroki　was
ordered　to　prepare　a　supper；　which　would　be　served　on　the　tea　cart；
set　at　Hawksley's　knees。　　Kitty　…　because　it　was　impossible　for　her
to　remain　inactive　…　set　the　linen　and　silver。　　She　was　in　and　out
of　the　room；　ill　at　ease；　angry；　frightened；　bitter；　avoiding
Hawksley's　imploring　eyes　because　she　was　not　sure　of　her　own。

She　was　sure　of　one　thing；　however。　　All　the　nonsense　was　out　of　her
head。　　To…morrow　she　would　be　returning　to　the　regular　job。　　She
would　have　a　page　from　the　Arabian　Nights　to　look　upon　in　the　days
to　come。　　She　understood；　though　it　twisted　her　heart　dreadfully：　she
was　in　the　eyes　of　this　man　a　plaything；　a　pretty　woman　he　had　met
in　passing。　　If　she　had　saved　his　life　he　had　in　turn　saved　hers；
they　were　quits。　　She　did　not　blame　him　for　his　point　of　view。　　He
had　come　from　the　top　of　the　world；　where　women　were　either　ornaments
or　playthings；　while　she　and　hers　had　always　struggled　to　maintain
equilibrium　in　the　middle　stratum。　　Cutty　could　give　him　friendship；
but　she　could　not　because　she　was　a　woman；　young　and　pretty。

Love　him？　　Well；　she　would　get　over　it。　　It　might　be　only　the　glamour
of　the　adventure　they　had　shared。　　Anyhow；　she　wouldn't　die　of　it。
Cutty　hadn't。　　Of　course　it　hurt；　she　was　a　silly　little　fool；　and
all　that。　　Once　he　was　in　Montana　he　would　be　sending　for　his　Olga。
There　wasn't　the　least　doubt　in　her　mind　that　if　ever　autocracy
returned　to　power；　he'd　be　casting　aside　his　American　citizenship；
his　chaps　and　sombrero；　for　the　old　regalia。　　Well　…　truculently　to
the　world　at　large　…　why　not？

So　she　avoided　Hawksley's　gaze；　sensing　the　sustained　persistence
of　it。　　But；　oh；　to　be　alone；　alone；　alone！

Cutty　washed　the　patient's　hands　and　face　and　patched　up　the　cut　on
the　cheek；　interlarding　his　chatter　with　trench　idioms；　banter；
jokes。　　Underneath；　though；　he　was　chuckling。　　He　was　the　hero　of
this　tale；　he　had　done　all　the　thrilling　stunts；　carried　limp　bodies
across　fire　escapes　in　the　rain；　climbed　roofs；　eluded　newspaper
reporters；　fought　with　his　bare　fists；　rescued　the　girl。。。。　　All
with　one　foot　in　the　grave！　　Fifty…two；　gray　haired　…　with　a　prospect
of　rheumatism　on　the　morrow　…　and　putting　it　over　like　a　debonair
movie　idol！

Hawksley　met　these　pleasantries　halfway　by　grousing　about　being
babied　when　there　was　nothing　the　matter　with　him　but　his　head；　his
body；　and　his　legs。

Why　didn't　she　look　at　him？　　What　was　the　meaning　of　this　persistent
avoidance？　　She　must　have　forgiven　last　night。　　She　was　too　much　of
a　thoroughbred　to　harbour　ill　feeling　over　that。　　Why　didn't　she
look　at　him？

The　telephone　called　Cutty　from　the　room。

Kitty　went　into　the　dining　room　for　an　extra　pair　of　salt　cellars
and　delayed　her　return　until　she　heard　Cutty　coming　back。

〃Karlov　is　dead；〃　he　announced。　　〃Started　a　fight　in　the　taxi；　got
out；　and　was　making　for　safety　when　one　of　the　boys　shot　him。　　He
hadn't　the　jewels　on　him；　John。　　I'm　afraid　they　are　gone；　unless　he
hid　them　somewhere　in　that　…　　What's　the　matter；　Kitty？〃

For　Kitty　had　dropped　the　salt　cellars　and　pressed　her　hands　against
her　bosom；　her　face　colourless。

Hawksley；　terrified；　tried　to　get　up。

〃No；　no！　　Nothing　is　the　matter　with　me　but　my　head。。。。　　To　think　I
could　forget！　　Good　…　heavens！〃　　She　prolonged　the　words　drolly。
〃Wait。〃

She　turned　her　back　to　them。　　When　she　faced　them　again　she