Anarchists -- Fiction; Jewel thieves -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Precious stones -- Fiction; Suspense fiction
He realized that his attitude was rather inexplicable; but there were
some adventures which hypnotized women; and one of this sort was
now unfolding for Kitty. That she had her share of common sense was
negligible in face of the facts that she was imaginative and romantical
and adventuresome, and that for the first time she was riding one of the
great middle currents in human events. She was Molly's girl; Cutty was
going to look out for her.
Mighty odd that this fear for her should have sprung into being that
night, quite illogically. Prescience? He could not say. Perhaps it was
a borrowed instinct--fatherly; the same instinct that would have stirred
her father into action--the protection of that dearest to him.
If he told her who Hawksley really was, that would intrigue her. If he
made a mystery of the affair, that, too, would intrigue her. And there
you were, 'twixt the devil and the deep blue sea. Hang it, what evil
luck had stirred him to tell her about those emeralds? Already she
was building a story to satisfy her dramatic fancy. Two and two made
four--which signified that she was her father's daughter, that she would
not rest until she had explored every corner of this dark room. Wanting
to keep her out of it, and then dragging her into it through his
cupidity. Devil take those emeralds! Always the same; trouble wherever
they were.
The real danger would rise during the convalescence. Kitty would be
contriving to drop in frequently; not to see Hawksley especially,
but her initial success in playing hide and seek with secret agents,
friendly and otherwise, had tickled her fancy. For a while it would be
an exciting game; then it might become only a means to an end. Well, it
should not be.
Was there a girl! Already Hawksley had recorded her beauty. Very well;
the first sign of sentimental nonsense, and out he should go, Karlov or
no Karlov. Kitty wasn't going to know any hurt in this affair. That much
was decided.
Cutty stormed into his study, growling audibly. He filled a pipe and
smoked savagely. Another side, Kitty's entrance into the drama promised
to spoil his own fun; he would have to play two games instead of one. A
fine muddle!
He came to a stand before one of the windows and saw the glory of
the morning flashing from the myriad spires and towers and roofs, and
wondered why artists bothered about cows in pastures.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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