The Drums of Jeopardy

"You're all right, John. You've reached haven; the storms hereafter will

be outside. Besides, Stefani will always be with you. You'll never pick

up that old Amati without feeling Stefani near. Can you stand?"

"Between the two of you, perhaps."

With Kitty on one side and Cutty on the other Hawksley managed the

descent tolerably well. Often a foot dragged. How strong she was, this

girl! No hysterics, no confusion, after all that racket, with death--or

something worse--reaching out toward her; calmly telling him that there

was another step, warning him not to bear too heavily on Cutty! Holding

him up physically and morally, these two, now all he had in life to care

for. Yesterday, unknown to him; this night, bound by hoops of steel.

The girl had forgiven him; he knew it by the touch of her arm.... Old

Stefani! A sob escaped him. Their arms tightened.

"No; I was thinking of Stefani. Rather hard--to die all alone--because

he loved me."

Kitty longed to be alone. There were still many unshed tears--some for

Cutty, some for Stefani Gregor, some for Johnny Two-Hawks, and some for

herself.

In the limousine Cutty sat in the middle, Kitty on his left and Hawksley

on his right, his arms round them both. Presently Hawksley's head

touched his shoulder and rested there; a little later Kitty did

likewise. His children! Lord, he was going to have a tremendous interest

in life, after all! He smiled with kindly irony at the back of the

chauffeur. His children, these two; and he knew as he planned their

future that they were thinking over and round but not of him, which is

the way of youth.

At the apartment Cutty decided to let Hawksley sit in an easy chair in

the living room until Captain Harrison arrived. Kuroki was ordered

to prepare a supper, which would be served on the tea cart, set at

Hawksley's knees. Kitty--because it was impossible for her to remain

inactive--set the linen and silver. She was in and out of the room, ill

at ease, angry, frightened, bitter, avoiding Hawksley's imploring eyes

because she was not sure of her own.

She was sure of one thing, however. All the nonsense was out of her

head. To-morrow she would be returning to the regular job. She would

have a page from the Arabian Nights to look upon in the days to come.

She understood, though it twisted her heart dreadfully: she was in the

eyes of this man a plaything, a pretty woman he had met in passing. If

she had saved his life he had in turn saved hers; they were quits. She

did not blame him for his point of view. He had come from the top of the

world, where women were either ornaments or playthings, while she and

hers had always struggled to maintain equilibrium in the middle stratum.

Cutty could give him friendship; but she could not because she was a

woman, young and pretty.