Kitty saw a man step out of the foremost taxicab, give some instructions
to the chauffeur, and get back into the cab, immediately to be driven
off at moderate speed. She recognized the man at once. Never would she
forget that squat, gorilla-like body. Karlov! Yonder, in that cab! She
ran to the remaining cab; wherein she differed from angels.
"Are you free?"
"Yes, miss."
"See that taxi going across town? Follow it and I will give you ten
extra fare."
"You're on, miss."
Karlov peered through the rear window of his cab. If she had in tow a
Federal agent the manoeuvre would fail, at a great risk to himself. But
he would soon be able to tell whether or not she was being followed.
As a matter of fact, she was not. She had returned to New York a day
before she was expected. Her unknown downtown guardian would not turn
up for duty until ordered by Cutty to do so. She entered the second cab
with no definite plan in her head. Karlov, the man who wanted to kill
Johnny Two-Hawks, the man who held Stefani Gregor a prisoner! For the
present these facts were sufficient. "Don't get too near," said Kitty
through the speaking tube. "Just keep the cab in sight."
A perfectly logical compensation. She herself had set in motion the
machinery of this amazing adventure; it was logically right that she
should end it. Poor dear old Cutty--to fancy he could pull the wool over
Kitty Conover's eyes! Cutty, the most honest man alive, had set his foot
upon an unethical bypath and now found himself among nettles. To keep
Johnny Two-Hawks prisoner in that lofty apartment while he hunted for
the drums of jeopardy! Hadn't he said he had seen emeralds he would
steal with half a chance? Cutty, playing at this sort of game,
his conscience biting whichever way he turned! 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. To-morrow would mark the fork in
the road. But life would never again be humdrum for Kitty Conover.
The taxicabs were bumping over cobbles, through empty streets. It was
six by now; at that hour this locality, which she recognized as the
warehouse district, was always dead. The deserted streets, how ever, set
in motion a slight perturbation. Supposing Karlov grew suspicious and
turned aside from his objective? Even as this disturbing thought
took form Karlov's taxicab stopped. Kitty's stopped also, but without
instructions from her. She had intended to drive on and from the rear
window observe if Karlov entered that old red-brick house.