Problem Four. That night, all on his own, he would make an attempt
to enter that old house sandwiched between the two vacant warehouses.
Through pressure of authority he had obtained keys to both warehouses.
There would be a trap on the roof of that house. Doubtless it would be
covered with tin; fairly impregnable if latched below. But he could find
out. From the third-floor windows of either warehouse the drop was not
more than six feet. If anywhere in town poor old Stefani Gregor would be
in one of those rooms. But to storm the house frontally, without being
absolutely sure, would be folly. Gregor would be killed. The house was
in fact an insane asylum, occupied by super-insane men. Warned, they
were capable of blowing the house to kingdom come, themselves with it.
Problem Five was a mere vanishing point. He doubted if he would ever see
those emeralds. What an infernal pity!
He built a coronet and leaned back, a wisp of smoke darting up from the
bowl of his pipe.
"I say, you know, but that's a ripping game to play!" drawled a tired
voice over his shoulder.
Cutty turned his head, to behold Hawksley, shaven, pale, and handsome,
wrapped in a bed quilt and swaying slightly.
"What the deuce are you doing out of your room?" growled Cutty, but with
the growl of a friendly dog.
Hawksley dropped into a chair weakly. "End of my rope. Got to talk to
someone. Go dotty, else. Questions. Skull aches with 'em. Want to know
whether this is a foretaste of the life I have a right to live--or the
beginning of death. Be a good sport, and let's have it out."
"What is it you wish to know?" asked Cutty, gently. The poor beggar!
"Where I am. Who you are. What happened to me. What is going to happen
to me," rather breathlessly. "Don't want any more suspense. Don't want
to look over my shoulder any more. Straight ahead. All the cards on the
table, please."
Cutty rose and pushed the invalid's chair to a window and drew another
up beside it.
"My word, the top of the world! Bally odd roost."
"You will find it safer here than you would on the shores of Kaspuskoi
More," replied Cutty, gravely. "The Caspian wouldn't be a healthy place
for you now."
With wide eyes Hawksley stared across the shining, wavering roofs. A
pause. "What do you know?" he asked, faintly.
"Everything. But wait!" Cutty fetched one of the photographs and laid it
upon the young man's knees. "Know who this is--Two-Hawks?"