s. In any event, Karlov will pay the price. Wouldn't you
prefer to go out--if you must--in a glorious scrap?"

"Fighting?" Hawksley was on his feet instantly. "Do you mean that? I can
die with free hands?"

"With a chance of coming out top-hole."

"I say, what a ripping thing hope is--always springing back!"

Cutty nodded. But he knew there was one hope that would never warm his
heart again. Molly!... Well, he'd let the young chap believe that. Kitty
must never know. Poor little chick, fighting with her soul in the dark
and not knowing what the matter was! Such things happened. He had loved
Molly on sight. He had loved Kitty on sight. In neither case had he
known it until too late to turn about. Mother and daughter; a kind
of sacrilege, as if he had betrayed Molly! But what a clear vision
acknowledged love lent to the mind! He understood Kitty, who did not
understand herself. Well, this night's adventure would decide things.

He smiled. Neither Kitty nor the drums of jeopardy; nothing. The gates
of paradise again--for somebody else! Whoever heard of a prompter
receiving press notices?

"Let's look alive! We haven't any time to waste. We'll have to change
to dungarees--engineer togs. There'll be some tools to carry. We go
straight down to the boiler room. We come up the ash exit on the street
side. Remember, no suspicious haste. Two engineers off for their evening
swig of beer at the corner groggery. Through the side door there, and
into my taxi. Obey every order I give. Now run along to Kuroki and say
night work for both of us. He'll understand what's wanted. I'll set the
machinery in motion for a raid. How do you feel? I want the truth. I
don't want to turn to you for help and not get it."

Hawksley laughed. "Don't worry about me. I'll carry on. Don't you
understand? To have an end of it, one way or the other! To come free or
to die there!"

"And if Kitty is not where I believe her to be?"

"Then I'll return to the taxi outside."

To be young like that! thought Cutty, feeling strangely sad and old. "To
come free or to die there!" That was good Anglo-Saxon. He would make a
good American citizen--if he were in luck.

At half after nine the two of them knelt on the roof before the cemented
trap. Nothing but raging heat disintegrates cement. So the liberation of
this trap, considering the time, was a Herculean task, because it had to
be accomplished with little or no noise. Cold chisels, fulcrums, prying,
heav