nched and dabbed at the lips. She had seen Italian children make the
gesture and cry: "Ho fame!" Hungry. But she could not let him into the
kitchen. Still, if he were honestly hungry--She had it!

In the kitchen-table drawer was an imitation revolver--press the
trigger, and a fluted fan was revealed--a dance favour she had received
during the winter.

She plucked it out of the drawer and walked bravely to the window, which
she threw up.

"What do you want? What are you doing out there on the fire escape?" she
instantly demanded to know.

"My word, I am hungry! I was looking out of the window across the way
and saw you preparing your dinner. A bit of bread and a glass of milk.
Would you mind, I wonder?"

"Why didn't you come to the door then? What window?" Kitty was resolute;
once she embarked upon an enterprise.

"That one."

"Where is Mr. Gregory?" Kitty recalled that odd letter.

"Gregory? I should very much like to know. I have come many miles to
see him. He sent me a duplicate key. There was not even a crust in the
cupboard."

Gregory away? That letter! Something had happened to that poor, kindly
old man. "Why did you not seek some restaurant? Or have you no money?"

"I have plenty. I was afraid that I might not be able conveniently to
return. I am a stranger. My actions might be viewed with suspicion."

"Indeed! Describe Mr. Gregory."

Not of the clinging kind, evidently, he thought. A raving beauty--Diana
domesticated!

"It is four years since I saw him. He was then gray, dapper, and erect.
A mole on his chin, which he rubs when he talks. He is a valet in one
of the fashionable hotels. He is--or was--the only true friend I have in
New York."

"Was? What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid something has happened to him. I found his bedroom things
tossed about."

"What could possibly happen to a harmless old man like Mr. Gregory?"

"Pardon me, but your egg is burning!"

Kitty wheeled and lifted off the pan, choking in the smother of smoke.
She came right-about face swiftly enough. The man had not moved; and
that decided her.

"Come in. I will give you something to eat. Sit in that chair by the
window, and be careful not to stir from it. I'm a good shot," lied
Kitty, truculently. "Frankly, I do not like the looks of this."

"I do look like a burglar, what?" He sat down in the chair meekly. Food
and a human being to talk to! A lovely, self-reliant American girl,
able to take care of herself. Magnific