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Who he was and what he was, by a simple turn of the wrist. It was Cutty's affair now, not hers. He had a legal right to examine the contents. He was an agent of the Federal Government. The drums of jeopardy and Stefani Gregor and Johnny Two-Hawks, all interwoven. She had waited in vain for Cutty to mention the emeralds. What signified his silence?
And yet he was sure he had heard it somewhere. Perhaps his notes would throw some light on that subject, too. When he arrived home Miss Frances, the nurse, informed him that the patient was babbling in an outlandish tongue. For a long time Cutty stood by the bedside, translating. "Olga!... Olga!... And she gave me food, Stefani, this charming American girl. Never must we forget that.
On the stairs outside they met Vyvian coming up, who nodded affably to both of them. Signor Stefani, as he passed, shrugged his shoulders up to his ears and spread his two hands wide, with a look of resigned despair over his shoulder at Peter, and Vyvian's brows went up at the gesture. Peter ushered his guest out at the street entrance.
She could not dismiss the impression that Cutty knew Stefani Gregor or had heard of him; and in either case it signified that Gregor was something more than a valet. And decidedly Two-Hawks was not of the Russian peasantry. By the time she was ready to leave for the office the Irish blood in her was seething and bubbling and dancing. She knew she would do crazy, impulsive things all day.
You must learn what it is to be hungry." The squat man picked up the bundle from the table and tore off the wrapping paper. A violin the colour of old Burgundy lay revealed. "Boris!" The man in the chair writhed. "Have I waked you, Stefani?" tenderly. "The Stradivarius the very grand duke of fiddles!
Good-night." But Kitty did not find out. She called up all the known private and public hospitals, but no Gregor or Gregory had been received that afternoon, nor anybody answering his description. The fog had swallowed up Stefani Gregor. The reportorial instinct in Kitty Conover, combined with her natural feminine curiosity, impelled her to seek to the bottom of affair.
"But this is for your ear alone: He's alive; and one of these days I'll bring him to you. So buck up." "Alive! Stefani alive!" whispered Hawksley. He stretched out his hand rather blindly, and Cutty was surprised at the strength of the grip. "Makes me feel choky. I say, are all Americans good Samaritans?" Cutty put this aside because he did not care to disillusion Hawksley.
That is to say, Kitty already had a glimmer of the startling truth. The initial misstep on his part had been made upon her pronouncement of the name Stefani Gregor. He hadn't been able to control his surprise. And yesterday, having frankly admitted that he knew Gregor, all that was needed to complete the circle was that advertisement. Cutty tore his hair, literally.
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!
To rend, batter, crush, kill! If he were bound for hell, to go there with the satisfaction of knowing that his private vengeance had been cancelled. The full reckoning for Anna's degradation: Stefani Gregor, broken and dying, and all the others dead! He would shoot them as they dropped through the trap.
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