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Updated: June 12, 2025
Kitty raised her eyes in frank astonishment. There was a fiercely proud expression on Hawksley's face. It was not the man, it was the artist who was angry. "Forgive me! I was dreaming a little," she apologized with quick understanding. "I am not quite myself." "Neither am I. I will play something to fit your dream. But wait! When I play I am articulate. I can express myself all emotions.
And with this knowledge tingling in his thoughts and perhaps there was a bit of spring in his heart Cutty continued on, without destination, chin jutting, eyes shining. He was an American! He might have continued on indefinitely had he not seen obliquely a window filled with musical instruments. Hawksley's fiddle! He had all but forgotten. All right.
The girl was free to come and go, of course, but the ancient enemy of Nippon would not pass the elevator door. Let him find that out for himself. When the elevator arrived the boy did not open the door. He noted the derby on Hawksley's head. "I can take you down, Miss Conover, but I cannot take Mr. Hawksley. When the boss gives me an order I obey it if I possibly can.
The street was alive with vehicles tearing north and south, with frequent stoppage for the passage of those racing east and west. The destination of Hawksley's cab was an old-fashioned apartment house in Eightieth Street. Gregor would have a meal ready; and it struck Hawksley forcibly that he was hungry, that he had not touched food since the night before.
You might go in ahead, Mr. Narkom, and get the acid bath and the powder ready for me. We'll see what the finger-prints of our gentle correspondent have to tell, and, if they are not in the records of Scotland Yard or down in my own private little book, we'll get a sample of Captain Hawksley's in the morning."
Not a word about the drums of jeopardy, the mark of the thong round Hawksley's neck. Hadn't she let him know that she knew the author of that advertisement offering to buy the drums, no questions asked? Very well, then; if he would not tell her the truth she would have to find it out herself.
So the liberation of this trap, considering the time, was a Herculean task, because it had to be accomplished with little or no noise. Cold chisels, fulcrums, prying, heaving, boring. To free the under edge; the top did not matter. Not knowing if Kitty were below that was the worst part of the job. The sweat of agony ran down Hawksley's face; but he never faltered.
And I might have made a fine mess of it if you hadn't waked me up." All this gentle irony went over Hawksley's head. "When do you wish me to go down to the taxi?" "Son, I'm beginning to like you. You shall have your chance. In fact, we'll take it together. There'll be a taxi but I'll hire it. I'm quite positive I know where Kitty is. If I'm correct you'll have your chance.
"Funny old top," was Hawksley's comment as they stood before the train gate. "Three months gone we were strangers." "And now " began Cutty. "With hoops of steel!" interrupted Kitty. "You must write, Cutty, and Johnny and I will be prompt." "You'll get one from the Azores." "Train going west!" "Good luck, children!" Cutty pressed Hawksley's hand and pecked at Kitty's cheek.
He could readily understand Hawksley's part; but Kitty's wasn't reducible to ordinary terms of expression. The young chap had run wild because his head still wobbled on his shoulders and because his isolation was beginning to scratch his nerves. But for Kitty to run wild with him offered a blank wall to speculation. Something might come of it.
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