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Karlov's man and the secret-service operative detailed by Cutty both made the same mistake followed Kitty into the dry-goods shop and lost her as completely as if she had popped up in China. At quarter to five she stepped into Elevator Number Four of the building which Cutty called his home, very well pleased with herself.
The chauffeur obeyed, but he stopped again directly behind Karlov's taxicab. He slid off his seat and opened the door. His face was grim. Tumpitum-tump! Tumpitum-tump! She did not hear the tocsin this time; she felt it on her spine the drums of fear. If they touched her! "Come with me, miss. If you are sensible you will not be harmed. If you cut up a racket I'll have to carry you."
He required no explanations from Kitty, who shrank to the wall and remained pinned there by terror. Karlov's intuition was keen. Men on the roof held but one significance. The house was surrounded by Federal agents. For a space he wavered between two desires, the political and the private vengeance.
I don't understand." "No matter. He can play the fiddle nearly as well as his master. The two of them have gone across the world fiddling the souls of women out of their bodies." Kitty sat down weakly on the plank. Terror from all points. Karlov's unexcited tones his lack of dramatic gesture convinced her that this was deadly business.
He relayed this information to the actual chief of the local service, from whom he had borrowed his men. There was no protest. Green spectacles. Quarter to nine he and Kitty entered a subway car and found a corner to themselves, while Karlov's agent was content with a strap in the crowded end of the car. Karlov for once had outthought Cutty.
But you will not read the lesson." Sweat began to drop from Karlov's beetling eyebrows. "You will fail miserably here. Why? Because the Americans are the greatest of individual property owners. The sense of possession is satisfied. And woe to the fool who suggests they surrender this.
Supposing Karlov grew suspicious and turned aside from his objective? Even as this disturbing thought took form Karlov's taxicab stopped. Kitty's stopped also, but without instructions from her. She had intended to drive on and from the rear window observe if Karlov entered that old red-brick house. "Go on!" she called through the tube.
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.
There was a slight gash on one grimy cheek, possibly caused by contact with the latchets of Karlov's boots. She raised the handsome head, pressed it to her bosom, and began to sway her body from side to side. Tumult. The Federal agents were throwing their bodies against the door repeatedly. In the semi-darkness Cutty fought for his life. But Kitty neither heard nor saw.
You can talk freely before them." "Am I to see the patient?" "Harrison says not. About Wednesday your Two-Hawks will be sitting up. I've determined to keep the poor devil here until he can take care of himself. But he is flat broke." "He said he had money." "Well, Karlov's men stripped him clean." "Have you any idea who he is?" "To be honest, that's one of the reasons why I want to keep him here.
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