The Drums of Jeopardy

"Would you marry me, Kitty?"

"Are you serious?"

"Let's suppose I am."

"No. I couldn't marry you, Cutty I should always be having my mother's

ghost as a rival."

"But supposing I fell in love with you?"

"Then I'd always be doubting your constancy. But what queer talk!"' "Kitty, you're a joy! Lordy, my luck in dropping in to see you

yesterday!"

"And a little whippersnapper like me calling a great man like you

Cutty!"

"Well, if it embarrasses you, you might switch to papa once in a while."

Kitty's laughter rang down the corridor. "I'll remember that whenever I

want to make you mad. Who's here?"

"Nobody but Harrison and the nurse. Both good citizens, and I've taken

them into my confidence to a certain extent. You can talk freely before

them."

"Am I to see the patient?"

"Harrison says not. About Wednesday your Two-Hawks will be sitting up.

I've determined to keep the poor devil here until he can take care of

himself. But he is flat broke."

"He said he had money."

"Well, Karlov's men stripped him clean."

"Have you any idea who he is?"

"To be honest, that's one of the reasons why I want to keep him here.

He's Russian, for all his Oxford English and his Italian gestures; and

from his babble I imagine he's been through seven kinds of hell. Torches

and hobnailed boots and the incessant call for a woman named Olga--a

young woman about eighteen."

"How did you find that out?"

"From a photograph I found in the lining of his coat. A pretty blonde

girl."

"Good heavens!"--recollecting her dream. "Where was it printed?"

"Amateur photography. I'll pick it up on the way to the living room."

It was nothing like the blonde girl of her dream. Still, the girl was

charming. Kitty turned over the photograph. There was writing on the

back.

"Russian? What does it say?"

"'To Ivan from Olga with all her love.'"

Cutty was conscious of the presence of an indefensible malice in his

tones. Why the deuce should he be bitter--glad that the chap had left

behind a sweetheart? He knew exactly the basis of Kitty's interest, as

utterly detached as that of a reporter going to a fire. On the day the

patient could explain himself, Kitty's interest would automatically

cease. An old dog in the manger? Malice.