clothesline in the happy days when the word
"Bolshevism" was known to only a select few dark angels.

Cutty waved a hand cheerfully if vaguely toward his guiding star, picked
up the chair, commandeered the clothes pole, and silently manoeuvred to
the wall of the warehouse. Standing on the chair he placed the tip of
the pole against the top of the upper frame and pushed the frame halfway
up. He repeated this act upon the obdurate lower half. He heaved slowly
but with all his force. Glory be, the lower half went up far enough to
afford ingress! He would eat his breakfast in the apartment as usual.
To-morrow night he would establish his line of retreat by fetching a
light rope ladder. There was sweat at the roots of his hair, however,
when he finally gained the street. He was very tired. He observed
mournfully that the vigour which had always recharged itself, no
matter how recklessly he had drawn upon it, was beginning to protest.
Fifty-two.

Well, his troubles were over for the night. So he believed. Arriving
home, dirty and spent, he had to find Kitty asleep on the divan!

CHAPTER XXII

"Kitty," he said, breaking the tableau, "what are you doing here?"

"You've been hurt! There is blood on you!"

"A trifling cut. But I'm hurt, nevertheless, that you should be so
thoughtless as to come here against my orders. It doesn't matter that
Karlov has given up the idea of having you followed. But for the sake
of us all you must be made to understand that we are dealing with high
explosives and poison gas. It's not what might happen to me or to Uncle
Sam's business. It's you. Any moment they may take it into their heads
to get at me and Hawksley through you. That's why we watch over you. You
don't want to see Hawksley done in, do you? It's real tragedy, Kitty,
and nobody can guess what the end is going to be."

Kitty's lip quivered. "Cutty, if you talk like that to me I shall cry."

"Good Lord, what about?"--bewildered.

"About everything. I've been on the verge of hysterics all day."

"Kitty, you poor child, what's happened?"

"Nothing--everything. Lonesome. When I saw all those mothers and wives
and sisters and sweethearts on the curb to-day, watching their boys
march by, it hit me hard. I was alone. Nobody. So please don't be cross
with me. I'm on the ragged edge. Silly, I know. But we women often go
to pieces over nothing, without any logical reason. Ready to face murder
and battle and sudden death; and then