"Well, I'll be tinker-dammed!" said Cutty.

"I've reasoned it out," went on Kitty, breathlessly, looking at Cutty,

"When the anarchist tore them from Mr. Hawksley's neck, he threw them

out of the window. The room was dark; his companion could not see. Later

he intended, no doubt, to go into the court and recover them and cheat

his master. I was looking out of the window, when I noticed a brilliant

flash of purple, then another of green. The pouch was open, the stones

about to trickle out. I dared not leave them in the apartment or tell

anybody until you came home. So I carried them with me to the office.

The drums, Cutty! The drums! Tumpitum-tump! Look!"

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She poured the stones upon the white linen tablecloth. A thousand fires!

"The wonderful things!" she gasped. "Oh, the wonderful things! I don't

blame you, Cutty. They would tempt an angel. The drums of jeopardy; and

that I should find them!"

"Lord!" said Cutty, in an awed whisper. Green stones! The magnificent

rubies and sapphires and diamonds vanished; he could see nothing but the

exquisite emeralds. He picked up one--still warm with Kitty's pulsing

life--and toyed with it. Actually, the drums! And all this time they had

been inviting the first comer to appropriate them. Money, love, tragedy,

death; history, pageants, lovely women; murder and loot! All these

days on the step of the fire-escape ladder! He must have one of them;

positively he must. Could he prevail upon Hawksley to sell one? Had he

carried them through sentiment?

He turned to broach the suggestion of purchase, but remained mute.

Hawksley's head was sunk upon his chest; his arms hung limply at the

sides of his chair.

"He is fainting!" cried Kitty, her love outweighing her resolves.

"Cutty!"--desperately, fearing to touch Hawksley herself.

"No! The stones, the stones! Take them away--out of sight! I'm too done

in! I can't stand it! I can't--The Red Night! Torches and hobnailed

boots!"




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