What a pleasant intimacy hers and Cutty's promised to be! And if he hadn't casually dropped into the office that afternoon she would have surrendered the affair to the police, and that would have been the end of it. Amazing thought--you might jog along all your life at the side of a person and never know him half so well as someone you met m a tense episode, like that of the immaculate Cutty crossing the fire escape with Two-Hawks on his shoulders! She heard the friendly coal heaver going down the corridor to the door. When he returned to the bedroom two men accompanied him. Not a word was said. The two men marched off with the prisoners and left Kitty alone with her saviour. “Thank you,” she said, simply. “You poor little chicken, did you believe I had deserted you?” The voice wasn't gruff now. “Cutty?” Kitty ran to him, flinging her arms round his neck. “Oh, Cutty!” Cutty's heart, which had bumped along an astonishing number of million times in fifty-two years, registered a memorable bump against his ribs. The touch of her soft arms and the faint, indescribable perfume which emanates from a dainty woman's hair thrilled him beyond any thrill he had ever known. For Kitty's mother had never put her arms round old Cutty's neck. Of course he understood readily enough: Molly's girl, flesh of her flesh. And she had rushed to him as she would have rushed to her father. He patted her shoulder clumsily, still a little dazzled for all the revelation in the analysis. The sweet intimacy of it! The door of Paradise opened for a moment, and then shut in his face. “I did not recognize you at all!” she cried, standing off. “I shouldn't have known you on the street. And it is so simple. What a wonderful man you are!” “For an old codger?” Cutty's heart registered another sizable bump. Kitty laughed. “Never call yourself old to me again. Are you always doing these things?” “Well, I keep moving. I suspected something like this might happen. Those two will go to the Tombs to await deportation if they are aliens. Perhaps we can dig something out of them relative to this man Gregor. Anyhow, we'll try.” “Cutty, I saw a man in the court with a pocket lamp before I went to bed. He was hunting for something.” “I didn't find anything but a lot of fresh food someone had thrown out.” “It was you, then?” “Yes. There was a vague possibility that your protege might have thrown out something valuable during the struggle.” “What?” “Lord knows! A queer business, Kitty, you've lugged me into--my own! And there is one thing I want you to remember particularly: Life means nothing to the men opposed, neither chivalry nor ethics. Annihilation is their business. They don't want civilization; they want chaos. They have lost the sense of comparisons or they would not seek to thrust Bolshevism down the throats of the rest of the world. They say democracy has failed, and their substitute is murder and loot. Kitty, I want you to leave this roost.”