"

"Do it! Damned little use to me," declared Hawksley, sagging.

"Here, what's the matter with you?" cried the policeman, throwing his
arm round Hawksley.

"They nearly killed him a few days gone. A crack on the bean; but he
wasn't satisfied. Help him along. I'll be hiking back."

But the taxicab was gone.

Before Cutty's lieutenant opened the gate to the apartment he spoke to
Hawksley. "The boss is doing everything he can to put you through, sir.
Miss Conover's wit saved you. For if you hadn't separated they'd have
nailed you. I've been running round like a chicken with its head cut
off. I forgot that door on the seventeenth floor. I tell you honestly,
you've been playing with death. It wasn't fair to Miss Conover."

"It was my fault," volunteered Kitty.

"Mine," protested Hawksley.

"Well, they know where you roost now, for a fact. You've spilled the
beans. I'm sorry I lost my temper. The devil fly away with you both!"
The boy laughed. "You're game, anyhow. But darn it all, if anything had
happened to you the boss would never have forgiven me. He's the whitest
old scout God ever put the breath of life into. He's always doing
something for somebody. He'd give you the block if you had the gall to
ask for it. Play the game fifty-fifty with him and you'll land on both
feet. And you, Miss Conover, must not come here again."

"I promise."

"I'll tell you a little secret. It was the boss who sent you out of
town. He was afraid you'd do something like this. When you are ready to
go home you'll find Tony Bernini downstairs. Sore as a crab, too, I'll
bet."

"I'll be glad to go home with him," said Kitty, thoroughly chastened in
spirit.

"That's all for to-night."

Kitty and Hawksley stepped out into the corridor, the problem they
had sought to shake off reestablished in their thoughts, added too, if
anything.

"How do you feel?"

"Top-hole," lied Hawksley. "My word, though, I wobbled a bit going
round that block. I almost kissed the hobby. I say, he thought I'd been
tilting a few. But it was a lark!"

"Dinner is served," announced Kuroki at their elbows. His expression was
coldly bland.

"Dinner!" cried Hawksley, brightening. "What does the American soldier
say?"

"Eats!" answered Kitty.

All tension vanished in the double laughter that followed. They
approached dinner with something of the spirit that had induced Hawksley
to fiddle and Kitty to pass the hat in front of the Metropolitan Opera
House.