she be afraid? What was there to be
afraid of in a recurring melody? She had heard a dozen famed
violinists play it. It had never before affected her beyond a flash of
emotionalism. Perhaps it was the romantic misfortune of the man, the
mystery surrounding him, the menace which walled him in.

Breakfast. Human manikins had appetites. So she made her breakfast.
Before leaving the kitchen she stopped at the window. The sun filled
the court with brilliant light. The patches of rust on the fire-escape
ladder, which was on the Gregor side of the platform, had the semblance
of powdered gold.

Half an hour later she was speeding downtown to the office. All through
the day she walked, worked, talked as one in the state of trance.
There were periods of stupefaction which at length roused Burlingame's
curiosity.

"Kitty, what's the matter with you? You look dazed about something."

"How do you clean a pipe?" she countered, irrelevantly.

"Clean a pipe?" he repeated, nearly overbalancing his chair.

"Yes. You see, I may make up my mind to marry a man who smokes a pipe,"
said Kitty, desperately, eager to steer Burlingame into another channel;
"and certainly I ought to know how to clean one."

"Kitty, I'm an old-timer. You can't sidetrack me like this. Something
has happened. You say you had a great time in the country, and you come
in as pale as the moon, like someone suffering from shell shock. Ever
since Cutty came in here that day you've been acting oddly. You may not
know it, but Cutty asked me to send you out of town. You've been in some
kind of danger. What's the yarn?"

"So big that no newspaper will ever publish it, Burly. If Cutty wants to
tell you some day he can. I haven't the right to."

"Did he drag you into it or did you fall into it?"

"I walked into it, as presently I shall walk out of it--all on my own.

"Better keep your eyes open. Cutty's a stormy petrel; when he flies
there's rough weather."

"What do you know about him?"

"Probably what he has already told you--that he is a foreign agent of
the Government. What do you know?"

"Everything but one thing, and that's a problem particularly my own."

"Alien stuff, I suppose. Cutty's strong on that. Well, mind your step.
The boys are bringing in queer scraps about something big going to
happen May Day--no facts, just rumours. Better shoot for home the
shortest route each night and stick round there."

There are certain spiritual exhilarants that nu