The Drums of Jeopardy Part 43

"Probably what he has already told you--that he is a foreign agent of the Government. What do you know?"

"Everything but one thing, and that's a problem particularly my own."

"Alien stuff, I suppose. Cutty's strong on that. Well, mind your step.

The boys are bringing in queer sc.r.a.ps about something big going to happen May Day--no facts, just rumours. Better shoot for home the shortest route each night and stick round there."

There are certain spiritual exhilarants that nullify caution, warning the presence of danger. The boy with his first pay envelope, the lover who has just been accepted, the debutante on the way to her first ball; the impetus that urges us to rush in where angels fear to tread.

At a quarter after five Kitty left the office for home, unaware that the attribute designated as caution had evaporated from her system. She proceeded toward the Subway mechanically, the result of habit. Casually she noted two taxicabs standing near the Subway entrance. That she noted them at all was due to the fact that Subway entrances were not fortuitous hunting grounds for taxicabs. Only the unusual would have attracted her in her present condition of mind. It takes time and patience to weave a good web--observe any spider--time in finding a suitable place for it; patience in the spinning. All that worried Karlov was the possibility of her not observing him. If he could place his taxicabs where they would attract her, even casually, the main difficulty would be out of the way. The moment she turned her head toward the cabs he would step out into plain view. The girl was susceptible and adventuresome.

Kitty saw a man step out of the foremost taxicab, give some instructions to the chauffeur, and get back into the cab, immediately to be driven off at moderate speed. She recognized the man at once. Never would she forget that squat, gorilla-like body. Karlov! Yonder, in that cab! She ran to the remaining cab; wherein she differed from angels.

"Are you free?"

"Yes, miss."

"See that taxi going across town? Follow it and I will give you ten extra fare."

"You're on, miss."

Karlov peered through the rear window of his cab. If she had in tow a Federal agent the manoeuvre would fail, at a great risk to himself. But he would soon be able to tell whether or not she was being followed.

As a matter of fact, she was not. She had returned to New York a day before she was expected. Her unknown downtown guardian would not turn up for duty until ordered by Cutty to do so. She entered the second cab with no definite plan in her head. Karlov, the man who wanted to kill Johnny Two-Hawks, the man who held Stefani Gregor a prisoner! For the present these facts were sufficient. "Don't get too near," said Kitty through the speaking tube. "Just keep the cab in sight."

A perfectly logical compensation. She herself had set in motion the machinery of this amazing adventure; it was logically right that she should end it. Poor dear old Cutty--to fancy he could pull the wool over Kitty Conover's eyes! Cutty, the most honest man alive, had set his foot upon an unethical bypath and now found himself among nettles. To keep Johnny Two-Hawks prisoner in that lofty apartment while he hunted for the drums of jeopardy! Hadn't he said he had seen emeralds he would steal with half a chance? Cutty, playing at this sort of game, his conscience biting whichever way he turned! He had been hunting unsuccessfully for the stones that night he had come in with his face and hands b.l.o.o.d.y. Why hadn't he kissed her?

Johnny Two-Hawks--bourgeois? Utter nonsense! Of course it did not matter now what he was; he had dug a bridgeless chasm with that smile. Sometime to-morrow he and Stefani Gregor would be on their way to Montana; and that would be the last of them both. To-morrow would mark the fork in the road. But life would never again be humdrum for Kitty Conover.

The taxicabs were b.u.mping over cobbles, through empty streets. It was six by now; at that hour this locality, which she recognized as the warehouse district, was always dead. The deserted streets, how ever, set in motion a slight perturbation. Supposing Karlov grew suspicious and turned aside from his objective? Even as this disturbing thought took form Karlov's taxicab stopped. Kitty's stopped also, but without instructions from her. She had intended to drive on and from the rear window observe if Karlov entered that old red-brick house.

"Go on!" she called through the tube.

The chauffeur obeyed, but he stopped again directly behind Karlov's taxicab. He slid off his seat and opened the door. His face was grim.

Tumpitum-tump! Tumpitum-tump! She did not hear the tocsin this time; she felt it on her spine--the drums of fear. If they touched her!

"Come with me, miss. If you are sensible you will not be harmed. If you cut up a racket I'll have to carry you."

"What does this mean?" faltered Kitty.

"That we have finally got you, miss. You can see for yourself that there isn't any help in sight. Better take it sensibly. We don't intend to hurt you. It's somebody else we want. There's a heavy score against you, but we'll overlook it if you act sensibly. You were very clever last night; but the game depends upon the last trick."

"I'll go sensibly," Kitty agreed. They must not touch her!

Karlov did not speak as he opened the door of the house for her. His expression was Buddha-like.

"This way, miss," said the chauffeur, affably.

"You are an American?"

"Whenever it pays."

Presently Kitty found herself in the attic, alone. They hadn't touched her; so much was gained. Poor little fool that she was! It was fairly dark now, but overhead she could see the dim outlines of the scuttle or trap. The attic was empty except for a few pieces of lumber and some soap boxes. She determined to investigate the trap at once, before they came again.

She placed two soap boxes on end and laid a plank across. After testing its stability she mounted. She could reach the trap easily, with plenty of leverage to spare. She was confident that she could draw herself up to the roof. She sought for the hooks and liberated them, then she placed her palms against the trap and heaved. Not even a creak answered her. She pressed upward again and again. The trap was immovable.

Light. She turned, to behold Karlov in the doorway, a candlestick in his hand. "The scuttle is covered with cement, Miss Conover. n.o.body can get in or out."

Kitty got down, her knees uncertain. If he touched her! Oh, the fool she had been!

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked through dry lips.

"You are to me a bill of exchange, payable in something more precious to me than gold. I am going to keep you here until you are ransomed. The ransom is the man you have been s.h.i.+elding. If he isn't here by midnight you vanish. Oh, we shan't harm you. Merely you will disappear until my affairs in America are terminated. You are clever and resourceful for so young a woman. You will understand that we are not going to turn aside.

You are not a woman to me; you are a valuable p.a.w.n. You are something to bargain for."

"I understand," said Kitty, her heart trying to burst through. It seemed impossible that Karlov should not hear the thunder. To placate him, to answer his questions, to keep him from growing angry!

"I thought you would." Karlov set the candle on Kitty's impromptu stepladder. "We saw your interest in the affair, and attacked you on that side. You had seen me once. Being a newspaper writer--the New York kind--you would not rest until you learned who I was. You would not forget me. You were too well guarded uptown. You have been out of the city for a week. We could not find where. You were reported seen entering your office this morning; and here you are. My one fear was that you might not see me. Personally you will have no cause to worry.

No hand shall touch you.

"Thank you for that."

"Don't misunderstand. There is no sentiment behind this promise. I imagine your protector will sacrifice much for your sake. Simply it is unnecessary to offer you any violence. Do you know who the man is your protector is s.h.i.+elding?"

Kitty shook her head.

"Has he played the fiddle for you?"

"Yes."

Karlov smiled. "Did you dance?"

"Dance? I don't understand."

"No matter. He can play the fiddle nearly as well as his master. The two of them have gone across the world fiddling the souls of women out of their bodies."

Kitty sat down weakly on the plank. Terror from all points. Karlov's unexcited tones--his lack of dramatic gesture--convinced her that this was deadly business. Terror that for all the promise of immunity they might lay hands on her. Terror for Johnny Two-Hawks, for Cutty.

"Has he injured you?" she asked, to gain time.

"He is an error in chronology. He represents an idea which no longer exists." He spoke English fluently, but with a rumbling accent.

"But to kill him for that!"

"Kill him? My dear young lady, I merely want him to fiddle for me," said Karlov with another smile.

"You tried to kill him," insisted Kitty, the dryness beginning to leave her throat.

"Bungling agents. Do know what became of them--the two who invaded your bedroom?"