He decided to let an hour go past; then Two-Hawks was taken through the

building to the rear and transferred to the truck. Cutty sat with

the driver while Captain Harrison and the nurse rode inside with the

patient.

On the way Cutty was rather disturbed by the deep impression Kitty

Conover had made upon his heart and mind. That afternoon he had looked

upon her with fatherly condescension, as the pretty daughter of the two

he had loved most. From the altitude of his fifty-two he had gazed

down upon her twenty-four, weighing her as like all young women of

twenty-four--pleasure-loving and beau-hunting and fashion-scorched;

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and in a flash she had revealed the formed mind of a woman of thirty.

Altitude. He had forgotten that relative to altitudes there are always

two angles of vision--that from the summit and that from the green

valley below. Kitty saw him beyond the tree line, but just this side

of the snows--and matched his condescension with pity! He chuckled.

Doddering old ass, what did it matter how she looked at him?

Beautiful and young and full of common sense, yet dangerously

romantical. To wait for the man she wanted, what did that signify but

romance? And there was her Irish blood to consider. The association

of pretty nurse and interesting patient always afforded excellent

background for sentimental nonsense, the obligations of the one and the

gratitude of the other. Well, he had nipped that in the bud.

And why hadn't he taken this Two-Hawks person--how easy it was to fall

into Kitty's way of naming the chap!--why hadn't he taken him directly

to the Roosevelt? Why all this pother and secrecy over a total stranger?

Stefani Gregor, who lived opposite Kitty and who hadn't prospered

particularly since the day he had exhibited the drums of jeopardy--he

was the reason. These were volcanic days, and a friend of Stefani

Gregor--who played the violin like Paganini--might well be worth the

trouble of a little courtesy. Then, too, there was that mark of the

thong--a charm, a military identification disk or something of value.

Whatever it was, the rogues had got it. Murder and loot. And as soon as

he returned to consciousness the young fellow would be making inquiries.

Perhaps Kitty's point of view regarding a certain duffer aged fifty-two

was nearer the truth than the duffer himself realized. Second childhood!

As if the drums of jeopardy would ever again see light, after that

tempest of fire and death--that mud volcano!

One thing was certain--there would be no more cat-napping. The game was

on again. He was assured of that side of it.




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