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Updated: June 20, 2025
He stood up presently, looking a little dazed. "It appears," he said slowly, in his broken Italian, to Signor Stefani, "that you are making a rather bad mistake, which is a pity. I think you had better go home." Signor Stefani gave a startled upward twist to his moustache, and stood up too. "Excuse me," he said rather angrily, "there is no mistake.
He was going to die to-night, somehow, somewhere, but with free hands, the way Stefani would have him die, the way the girl would have him die. All these thousands of miles to die in a house he had never seen before, just when life was really worth something! An hour went by. Then they heard Kitty's signal. Instinctively the two of them knew that the taps came from her.
There was a yellow haze, which meant one candle-flame fighting for its life in the dark, and we waited outside, while the Italian spoke for a moment to someone we could not see. There came a note of protest in a woman's voice, but the man's beat it down with some argument, and then Stefani returned to ask us in.
At my side of the table is Stefani Gregor; at yours the man who has befriended me." "Thank you for that. I don't know of anything nicer you could say. But the outside world would see neither of our friends. I did not come here to see you." "No need of telling me that." "I had a problem a very difficult one to solve; and I believed that I might solve it if I came to these rooms.
Signor Stefani's last words were, "I shall return shortly and see your brother in person. I have made a foolish mistake in thinking that you were in his confidence. Good evening." So they parted, more in sorrow than in anger. Peter met Vyvian again on the stairs. He was passing on, but Vyvian stopped and said, "What have you been doing to Stefani to put him out so?"
He had been hunting unsuccessfully for the stones that night he had come in with his face and hands bloody. Why hadn't he kissed her? Johnny Two-Hawks bourgeois? Utter nonsense! Of course it did not matter now what he was; he had dug a bridgeless chasm with that smile. Sometime to-morrow he and Stefani Gregor would be on their way to Montana; and that would be the last of them both.
If you haven't, old fellow, I'll merely observe That a treat most delicious you have in reserve. Lord! How Billy's soul grazes in diggins of clover, While Stefani rapidly fingers them over, Feelingly, fervidly fingers them over. Illusion that enervates! Feverish dream Of excitement magnetic, inspired, supreme, Or despairing dejection, alternate, extreme! Gad!
In Hawksley's case the blow had probably restricted some current of thought, and that which would have flowed normally now shot out obliquely, perversely. It might be that the natural perverseness of his blood, unchecked by the noble influence of Stefani Gregor and liberated by the blow, governed his thoughts in relation to Kitty.
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.
He telephoned the restaurant and was advised that Miss Conover had reserved a table. He had forgotten to send down the operative who guarded Kitty at that end. But the distance from the office to the Subway was so insignificant! "You are looking fit," he said across the table. "Ought to be off your hands by Monday. But what about Stefani Gregor? I can't stir, leaving him hanging on a peg."
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