“They nearly killed him a few days gone. A crack on the bean; but he wasn't satisfied. Help him along. I'll be hiking back.” But the taxicab was gone. Before Cutty's lieutenant opened the gate to the apartment he spoke to Hawksley. “The boss is doing everything he can to put you through, sir. Miss Conover's wit saved you. For if you hadn't separated they'd have nailed you. I've been running round like a chicken with its head cut off. I forgot that door on the seventeenth floor. I tell you honestly, you've been playing with death. It wasn't fair to Miss Conover.” “It was my fault,” volunteered Kitty. “Mine,” protested Hawksley. “Well, they know where you roost now, for a fact. You've spilled the beans. I'm sorry I lost my temper. The devil fly away with you both!” The boy laughed. “You're game, anyhow. But darn it all, if anything had happened to you the boss would never have forgiven me. He's the whitest old scout God ever put the breath of life into. He's always doing something for somebody. He'd give you the block if you had the gall to ask for it. Play the game fifty-fifty with him and you'll land on both feet. And you, Miss Conover, must not come here again.” “I promise.” “I'll tell you a little secret. It was the boss who sent you out of town. He was afraid you'd do something like this. When you are ready to go home you'll find Tony Bernini downstairs. Sore as a crab, too, I'll bet.” “I'll be glad to go home with him,” said Kitty, thoroughly chastened in spirit. “That's all for to-night.” Kitty and Hawksley stepped out into the corridor, the problem they had sought to shake off reestablished in their thoughts, added too, if anything. “How do you feel?” “Top-hole,” lied Hawksley. “My word, though, I wobbled a bit going round that block. I almost kissed the bobby. I say, he thought I'd been tilting a few. But it was a lark!” “Dinner is served,” announced Kuroki at their elbows. His expression was coldly bland. “Dinner!” cried Hawksley, brightening. “What does the American soldier say?” “Eats!” answered Kitty. All tension vanished in the double laughter that followed. They approached dinner with something of the spirit that had induced Hawksley to fiddle and Kitty to pass the hat in front of the Metropolitan Opera House. Hawksley's recuperative powers promised well for his future. By the time coffee was served his head had cleared and his legs had resumed their normal functions of support. “I was so infernally bored!” “And now?” asked Kitty, recklessly. “Fancy asking me that!” “Do you realize that all this is dreadfully improper?” “Oh, I say, now! Where's the harm? If ever there was a young woman capable of taking care of herself--” “That isn't it. It's just being here alone with you.” “But you are not alone with me!” “Kuroki?” Kitty shrugged. “No. At my side of the table is Stefani Gregor; at yours the man who has befriended me.”