Kitty would be free, then? A flash of fire, which subsided quickly under

the smothering truth. What if she were free? He could not ask her to be

his wife. Not because of last night's madness. That no longer troubled

him. She was the sort who would understand, if he told her. She had

a soul big with understanding. It was that he walked in the shadow of

death, and would so long as Karlov was free; and he could not ask any

woman to share that.

He pushed back his chair slowly. In the living room he took the Amati

from its case and began improvising. What the chrysoprase did for Cutty

the fiddle did for this derelict--solved problems.

He reviewed all the phases as he played. That dish of bacon and eggs,

the resolute air of her, that popping fan! [Allegretto.] She had found

him senseless on the floor. She had had the courage to come to his

assistance. [Andante con espressione.] What had been in her mind that

night she had taken flight from his bedroom, after having given him the

wallet? Something like tears. What about? An American girl, natural,

humorous, and fanciful. Somehow he felt assured that it had not been his

kisses; she had looked into his eyes and seen the taint. Always there,

the beast that old Stefani had chained and subdued. He knew now that

this beast would never again lift its head. And he had let her go

without a sign. [Dolorosomente.] To have gone through life with a woman

who would have understood his nature. The test of her had been last

night in the streets. His mood had been hers. [Allegretto con amore.] "Love," he said, lowering the bow.

"Love," said Cutty, shifting his chrysoprase. There was no fool like an

old fool. It did not serve to recall Molly in all her glory, to reach

hither and yon for a handhold to pull him out of this morass. Molly had

become an invisible ghost. He loved her daughter. Double sunset; the

phenomenon of the Indian Ocean was now being enacted upon his own

horizon. Double sunset.

But why should Kitty have any problem to solve? Why should she dodder

over such a trifle as this prospective official marriage? It was only

a joke which would legalize his generosity. She had sent that telegram

after leaving this apartment. What had happened here to decide her? Had

Hawksley fiddled? There was something the matter with the green stones

to-night; they evoked nothing.

He leaned back in his chair, listening, the bowl of his pipe touching

the lapel of his coat. Music. Queer, what you could do with a fiddle if

you knew how.




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