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Updated: June 28, 2025
He's one of the few topnotchers I haven't met. He's the spark, the hand on the plunger. The powder is all ready in this land of ours; our job is to keep off the sparks until we can spread the stuff so it will only go puff instead of bang. This man Karlov is bad medicine for democracy. Poor devil!" "Why do you say that?" "Because I'm honestly sorry for them. This fellow Karlov has suffered.
But the boy was in England then." "The breed, the breed!" roared the squat man. "Ha, but you should have seen! Those gay officers and their damned master we left them with their faces in the mud, Stefani; in the mud! And the women begged. Fine music! Those proud hearts, begging Boris Karlov for their lives their faces in the mud!
"I'll go sensibly," Kitty agreed. They must not touch her! Karlov did not speak as he opened the door of the house for her. His expression was Buddha-like. "This way, miss," said the chauffeur, affably. "You are an American?" "Whenever it pays." Presently Kitty found herself in the attic, alone. They hadn't touched her; so much was gained. Poor little fool that she was!
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.
There is blood on you!" "A trifling cut. But I'm hurt, nevertheless, that you should be so thoughtless as to come here against my orders. It doesn't matter that Karlov has given up the idea of having you followed. But for the sake of us all you must be made to understand that we are dealing with high explosives and poison gas. It's not what might happen to me or to Uncle Sam's business. It's you.
It rushed to his lips a dozen times but he dared not voice it. Olga. Since Karlov could not be tempted to murder, it would be futile to ask for an additional burden of mental torture. Perhaps it had not happened the terrible picture he drew in his mind since Karlov had not boasted of it. "Come, Boris. There is blood on your hands. What is one more daub of it?"
Without first proving your theories correct you would ram them down the throat of the world. The world rejects you." "Wait and see, damned bourgeoisie!" thundered Karlov, not alive to the fact that he was being baited. "Bourgeoisie? Yes, I am of the middle class; the rogue on top and the fool below. I see. The rogue and the fool cannot combine unless the bourgeoisie is obliterated. Go on.
So Kitty sought her window and added her question to the countless millions forlornly wandering about up there, and finding no answer. But she would return to New York on the morrow. She would not summon Bernini as she had promised. She would go back by train, alone, unhampered. And in his cellar Boris Karlov spun his web for her.
Cutty spoke without much outward emotion. "Not the least idea. Whenever Karlov wanted to quiz me, he appeared late at night from some other part of the town. But he never got much." "You saw him this evening?" "Yes. It probably struck him as a fine joke to send me." "And if you don't go back?" "The girl will be taken away. I'm honestly afraid of the man. He's too quiet spoken.
"Coles," said Cutty upon reentering the study, "tell Karlov that His Highness will give himself up. He will be there before midnight." "That's enough for me. But if there's the least sign that you're not playing straight it will be all off. Two men will be watching the taxi and the entrance. If you appear, it's good-night. They told me to warn you." "I promise not to appear."
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