As a matter of fact, one of the three men in the taxi recognized

Kitty, but too late to intercept her. Her manoeuvre had confused him

temporarily. And while he and his companions were debating, Kitty had

time to summon Cutty's man from Elevator Four.

"Step into the car!" he roughly ordered, after she had given him a gist

of her suspicions. He turned off the lights, stepped out, and shut the

gates with a furious bang. "And stick to the corner! I'll attend to the

other fool."

He rushed into the street, his automatic ready, eyed the taxicab

speculatively, wheeled suddenly, and ran south at a dog-trot. He rounded

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the south corner, but he did not see Hawksley anywhere. The dog-trot

became a dead run. As he wheeled round the corner of the parallel street

he almost bumped into Hawksley, who had a policeman in tow.

"Officer," said the man with the boy's face, "this is Federal business.

Aliens. Come along. There may be trouble. If there should be any

shooting don't bother with the atmosphere. Pick out a real target."

"Anarchists?"

"About the size of it."

"Miss Conover?" asked Hawksley.

"Safe. No thanks to you, though. I'd like to knock your block off, if

you want to know!"

"Do it! Damned little use to me," declared Hawksley, sagging.

"Here, what's the matter with you?" cried the policeman, throwing his

arm round Hawksley.

"They nearly killed him a few days gone. A crack on the bean; but he

wasn't satisfied. Help him along. I'll be hiking back."

But the taxicab was gone.

Before Cutty's lieutenant opened the gate to the apartment he spoke to

Hawksley. "The boss is doing everything he can to put you through, sir.

Miss Conover's wit saved you. For if you hadn't separated they'd have

nailed you. I've been running round like a chicken with its head cut

off. I forgot that door on the seventeenth floor. I tell you honestly,

you've been playing with death. It wasn't fair to Miss Conover."

"It was my fault," volunteered Kitty.

"Mine," protested Hawksley.

"Well, they know where you roost now, for a fact. You've spilled the

beans. I'm sorry I lost my temper. The devil fly away with you both!"

The boy laughed. "You're game, anyhow. But darn it all, if anything had

happened to you the boss would never have forgiven me. He's the whitest

old scout God ever put the breath of life into. He's always doing

something for somebody. He'd give you the block if you had the gall to

ask for it. Play the game fifty-fifty with him and you'll land on both

feet. And you, Miss Conover, must not come here again."




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