don't."

"Does Cutty?"

"I don't know that, either."

"Did you ever hear of a pair of emeralds called the drums of jeopardy?"

"Nope. But I do know if you continue these stunts you'll head the whole
game into the ditch."

"You may set your mind at ease. I'm going to marry Cutty. I shall not go
to the apartment again until Hawksley, as he is called, is gone."

"Well, well; that's good news! But let me put you wise to one fact,
Miss Conover: you have picked some man! I'm not much of a scholar, but
knowing him as I do I'm always wondering why they made Faith, Hope, and
Charity in female form. But this night's work was bad business. They
know where the Russian is now; and if the game lasts long enough they'll
reach the chief, find out who he is; and that'll put the kibosh on his
usefulness here and abroad. Well, here's home, and no more lecture from
me."

"Sorry I've been so much trouble."

"Perhaps we ought to have shown you which end shoots."

"Good-night."

If Kitty had any doubt as to the wisdom of her decision, the cold,
gloomy rooms of her apartment dissipated them. She wandered through the
rooms, musing, calling back animated scenes. What would the spirit of
her mother say? Had she doddered between Conover and Cutty? Perhaps.
But she had been one of the happy few who had guessed right. Singular
thought: her mother would have been happy with Cutty, too.

Oh, the relief of knowing what the future was going to be! She took off
her hat and tossed it upon the table. The good things of life, and a
good comrade.

Food. The larder would be empty and there was her breakfast to consider.
She passed out into the kitchen, wrote out a list of necessities, and
put it on the dumb waiter. Now for the dishes she had so hurriedly left.
She rolled up her sleeves, put on the apron, and fell to the task. After
such a night--dish-washing! She laughed. It was a funny old world.

Pauses. Perhaps she should have gone to a hotel, away from all familiar
objects. Those flatirons intermittently pulled her eyes round. Her fancy
played tricks with her whenever her glance touched the window. Faces
peering in. In a burst of impatience she dropped the dish towel, hurried
to the window, and threw it up. Black emptiness!... Cutty, crossing the
platform with Hawksley on his shoulders. She saw that, and it comforted
her.

She finished her work and started for bed. But first she entered the
guest room and turned on the lights. Olga. She