He was interested in socialism and its bewildering ramifications,

but only as an analytical student. He could fit himself into any

environment, interview a prime minister in the afternoon and take

potluck that night with the anarchist who was planning to blow up the

prime minister.

Burlingame, an intimate, often exposed for Kitty's delectation the

amazing and colourful facets of Cutty's diamond-brilliant mind. Cutty

wrote authoritatively on famous gems and collected drums. He had one

of the finest collections of chrysoprase in the world. He loved

these semi-precious stones because of their unmatchable, translucent

green--like the pulp of a grape. From Burlingame Kitty had learned

that Cutty, rather indifferent to women, carried about with him the

photographs--large size--of famous professional beauties and a case

filled with polished chrysoprase. He would lay a photograph on a table

and adorn the lovely throat with astonishing necklaces and the head with

wonderful tiaras, all the while his brain at work with some intricate

political puzzle.

And he collected drums. The walls of his apartment--part of the loft of

a midtown office building--were covered with a most startling assortment

of drums: drums of war, of the dance, of the temples of the feast,

ancient and modern, some of them dreadful looking objects, as Kitty had

cause to remember.

Though Cutty had known her father and mother intimately, Kitty was a

comparative stranger. He recollected seeing her perhaps a dozen times.

She had been a shy child, not given to climbing over visitors' knees;

not the precocious offspring of the average theatrical mother. So in

the past he had somewhat overlooked her. Then one day recently he had

dropped in to see Burlingame and had seen Kitty instead; which accounts

for his presence here this day. Neither Kitty nor Burlingame suspected

the true attraction. The dramatic editor accepted the advent as a

peculiar compliment to himself. And it is to be doubted if Cutty himself

realized that there was a true magnetic pole in this cubbyhole of a

room.

Kitty, however, had vivid recollections. Actually the first strange man

she had ever met. But not having been visible on her horizon, except in

flashes, she knew of the man only what she had read and what Burlingame

had casually offered during discussions.

"Well, anyhow," said Burlingame, complacently, "the war is over."

Cutty smiled indulgently. "That's the trouble with us chaps who tramp

round the world for news. We can't bamboozle ourselves like you folks

who stay at home. The war was only the first phase. There's a mess over

there; wanting something and not knowing exactly what, those millions;

milling cattle, with neither shed nor pasture. The Lord only knows how

long it will take to clarify. Would you mind if I smoked?"




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