Cutty decided to walk downtown, the night being fine. He set his foot

to a long, swinging stride. An elephant on his hands, truly. Poor devil,

for a fad! Nobody wanted him, not even those who wished him well. Wanted

to become an American citizen. He would have been tolerably safe in

England. Here he would never be free of danger. A ranch. The beggar

would have a chance out there in the West. The anarchist and the

Bolshevik were town cooties. His one chance, actually. The poor devil!

Kitty had the right idea. It was a mighty fine thing, these times, to be

a citizen under the protection of the American doctrine.

Three hundred thousand! And Karlov had got that along with the drums.

The devil's own for luck! The fool would be able to start some fine

ructions with all that capital behind him. Episodes in the night.

Kitty dreamed of wonderful rose gardens, endless and changing; but

strive as she would she could not find Cutty anywhere, which worried

her, even in her dream.

The nurse heard the patient utter a single word several times before he

fell asleep.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Fan!" And he smiled.

She hunted for the palm leaf, but with a slight gesture he signified

that that was not what he wanted.

Cutty played solitaire with his chrysoprase until the telephone broke in

upon his reveries. What he heard over the wire disturbed him greatly.

"You were followed from the Avenue to the apartment."

"How do you know?"

"I am Henderson. You assigned me to watch the apartment in Eightieth

through the night. I followed the man who followed you. He saw your face

when you lit the pipe. When the banker left Miss Conover he was followed

home. That established him in the affair. The follower hung round, and

so did I. You appeared. He took a chance shot in the dark. Not sure, but

doing a bit of clever guessing."

"You still followed him?"

"Yes."

"Where did he wind up?"

"A house in the warehouse district. Vacant warehouses on each side. Some

new nest. I can lead you to it, sir, any time you wish."

"Thanks."

Cutty pushed aside the telephone and returned to his green stones. After

all, why worry? It was unfortunate, of course, but the apartment was

more inaccessible than the top of the Matterhorn. Still, they might

discover what his real business was and interfere seriously with his

future work on the other side. A ruin in the warehouse district? A good

place to look for Stefani Gregor--if he were still alive.




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