Kitty, might have been his daughter. Why, then, this persistent and
unaccountable revulsion? Why should she hesitate? The ancient female
fear of the trap? That could not be it. For a more honourable, a
more lovable man did not walk the earth. Brave, strong, handsome,
whimsical--why, Cutty was a catch!

Comfy. Never any of that inherent doubt of man when she was with him.
Absolute trust. An evil thought had entered her head; fate had made it
honourably possible. And still this mysterious repellence.

Romance? She was not surrendering her right to that. What was a year out
of her life if afterward she would be in comfortable circumstances, free
to love where she willed? She wasn't cheating herself or Cutty: she was
cheating convention, a flimsy thing at best.

Windows. We carry our troubles to our windows; through windows we see
the stars. We cannot visualize God, but we can see His stars pinned
to the immeasurable spaces. So Kitty sought her window and added her
question to the countless millions forlornly wandering about up there,
and finding no answer.

But she would return to New York on the morrow. She would not summon
Bernini as she had promised. She would go back by train, alone,
unhampered.

And in his cellar Boris Karlov spun his web for her.

CHAPTER XXVI

Hawksley heard the lift door close, and he knew that at last he was
alone. He flung out his arms, ecstatically. Free! He would see no more
of that nagging beggar Ryan until tomorrow. Free to put into execution
the idea that had been bubbling all day long in his head, like a fine
champagne, firing his blood with reckless whimsicality.

Quietly he stole down the corridor. Through a crack in the kitchen door
he saw Kuroki's back, the attitude of which was satisfying. It signified
that the Jap was pegging away at his endless studies and that only the
banging of the gong would rouse him. The way was as broad and clear as
a street at dawn. Not that Kuroki mattered; only so long as he did not
know, so much the better.

With careful step Hawksley manoeuvred his retreat so that it brought
him to Cutty's bedroom door. The door was unlocked. He entered the room.
What a lark! They would hide his own clothes; so much the worse for the
old beggar's wardrobe. Street clothes. Presently he found a dark suit,
commendable not so much for its style as for the fact that it was the
nearest fit he could find. He had to roll up the trouser hems.

Hats. Chuckling l