And why hadn't he taken this Two-Hawks person--how easy it was to fall into Kitty's way of naming the chap!--why hadn't he taken him directly to the Roosevelt? Why all this pother and secrecy over a total stranger? Stefani Gregor, who lived opposite Kitty and who hadn't prospered particularly since the day he had exhibited the drums of jeopardy--he was the reason. These were volcanic days, and a friend of Stefani Gregor--who played the violin like Paganini--might well be worth the trouble of a little courtesy. Then, too, there was that mark of the thong--a charm, a military identification disk or something of value. Whatever it was, the rogues had got it. Murder and loot. And as soon as he returned to consciousness the young fellow would be making inquiries. Perhaps Kitty's point of view regarding a certain duffer aged fifty-two was nearer the truth than the duffer himself realized. Second childhood! As if the drums of jeopardy would ever again see light, after that tempest of fire and death--that mud volcano! One thing was certain--there would be no more cat-napping. The game was on again. He was assured of that side of it. Green stones, the sunlight breaking against the flaws in a shower of golden sparks; green as the pulp of a Champagne grape; the drums of jeopardy! Murder and loot; he could understand. Immediately after the patient was put to bed Cutty changed. A nondescript suit of the day-labourer type and a few deft touches of coal dust completed his make-up. “I shan't be back until morning,” he announced. “Work to do. Kuroki will be at your service through the night, Miss Frances. Strike that Burmese gong once, at any hour. Come along, Harrison.” “Want any company?” asked Harrison, with a belligerent twist to his moustache. Cutty laughed. “No. You run along to your lambs. I'm running with the wolves to-night, old scout, and you might get that spick-and-span uniform considerably mussed up. Besides, it's raining.” “But what's to become of Miss Conover? She ought not to remain alone in that apartment.” “Well, well! I thought of that, too. But she can take care of herself.” “Those ruffians may call up the hospital and learn that we tricked them. “And then?” “Try to force the truth from Miss Conover.” “That's precisely the wherefore of this coal dust. On your way!” Eleven o'clock. Kitty was in the kitchen, without light, her chair by the window, which she had thrown up. She had gone to bed, but sleep was impossible. So she decided to watch the Gregor windows. Sometimes the mind is like a movie camera set for a double exposure. The whole scene is visible, but the camera sees only half of it. Thus, while she saw the windows across the court there entered the other side of her mind a picture of the immaculate Cutty crossing the platform with Johnny Two-Hawks thrown over his shoulder. The mental picture obscured the actual.