ng back.

"Karlov is dead," he announced. "Started a fight in the taxi, got out,
and was making for safety when one of the boys shot him. He hadn't
the jewels on him, John. I'm afraid they are gone, unless he hid them
somewhere in that--What's the matter, Kitty?"

For Kitty had dropped the salt cellars and pressed her hands against her
bosom, her face colourless.

Hawksley, terrified, tried to get up.

"No, no! Nothing is the matter with me but my head.... To think I could
forget! Good--heavens!" She prolonged the words drolly. "Wait."

She turned her back to them. When she faced them again she extended a
palm upon which lay a leather tobacco pouch, cracked and parched and
blistered by the reactions of rain and sun.

"Think of my forgetting them! I found them this morning. Where do you
suppose? On a step of the fire-escape ladder."

"Well, I'll be tinker-dammed!" said Cutty.

"I've reasoned it out," went on Kitty, breathlessly, looking at Cutty,
"When the anarchist tore them from Mr. Hawksley's neck, he threw them
out of the window. The room was dark; his companion could not see. Later
he intended, no doubt, to go into the court and recover them and cheat
his master. I was looking out of the window, when I noticed a brilliant
flash of purple, then another of green. The pouch was open, the stones
about to trickle out. I dared not leave them in the apartment or tell
anybody until you came home. So I carried them with me to the office.
The drums, Cutty! The drums! Tumpitum-tump! Look!"

She poured the stones upon the white linen tablecloth. A thousand fires!

"The wonderful things!" she gasped. "Oh, the wonderful things! I don't
blame you, Cutty. They would tempt an angel. The drums of jeopardy; and
that I should find them!"

"Lord!" said Cutty, in an awed whisper. Green stones! The magnificent
rubies and sapphires and diamonds vanished; he could see nothing but the
exquisite emeralds. He picked up one--still warm with Kitty's pulsing
life--and toyed with it. Actually, the drums! And all this time they had
been inviting the first comer to appropriate them. Money, love, tragedy,
death; history, pageants, lovely women; murder and loot! All these
days on the step of the fire-escape ladder! He must have one of them;
positively he must. Could he prevail upon Hawksley to sell one? Had he
carried them through sentiment?

He turned to broach the suggestion of purchase, but remained mute.

Hawksley's head was sunk up