"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?"
"They were taken away the police."
"So I thought. What became of the wallet?"
"I found it hidden on the back of my stove."
"I never thought to look there," said Karlov, musingly. "Who has the drums?"
"The emeralds? You haven't them!" cried Kitty, becoming her mother's daughter, though her heart never beat so thunderously as now. "We thought you had them!"
Karlov stared at her, moodily. "What is that button for, at the side of your bed?"
Kitty comprehended the working of the mind that formulated this question. If she answered truthfully he would accept her statements. "It rings an alarm in the basement."
Karlov nodded. "You are truthful and sensible I haven't the emeralds."
"Perhaps one of your men betrayed you."
"I have thought of that. But if he had betrayed me the drums would have been discovered by the police.... Damn them to hell!" Kitty wondered whether he meant the police or the, emeralds.
"Later, food and a blanket will be brought to you. If your ransom does not appear by midnight you will be taken away. If you struggle we may have to handle you roughly. That is as you please."
Karlov went out, locking the door.
Oh, the blind little fool she had been! All those constant warnings, and she had not heeded! Cutty had warned her repeatedly, so had Bernini; and she had deliberately walked into this trap. As if this cold, murderous madman would risk showing himself without some grim and terrible purpose. She had written either Cutty's or Johnny Two-Hawks' death warrant. She covered her eyes. It was horrible.
Perhaps not Cutty, but assuredly Two-hawks. His life for her liberty.
"And he will come!" she whispered. She knew it. How, was not to be analyzed. She just knew that he would come. What if he had smiled like that! The European point of view and her own monumental folly. He would come quietly, without protest, and give himself up.
"God forgive me! What can I do? What can I do?"
She slid to the floor and rocked her body. Her fault! He would come - even as Cutty would have come had he been the man demanded.
And Karlov would kill him - because he was an error in chronology!
She sensed also that the anarchist would not look upon his act as murder. He would be removing an obstacle from the path of his sick dreams.
Comparisons! She saw how much alike the two were. Cutty was only Johnny Two-Hawks at fifty-two - fearless and whimsical. Had Cutty gone through life without looking at some woman as, last night, Two-Hawks had looked at her? All the rest of her life she would see Two-Hawks' eyes.
Abysmal fool, to pit her wits against such men as Karlov! Because she had been successful to a certain extent, she had overrated her cleverness, with this tragic result... He had fiddled the soul out of her. But death!
She sprang up. It was maddening to sit still, to feel the approach of the tragedy without being able to prevent it. She investigated the windows. No hope in this direction. It was rapidly growing dark outside. What time was it?
The door opened. A man she had not seen before came in with a blanket, a pitcher of water, and some graham crackers. His fingers were stained a brilliant yellow and a peculiar odour emanated from his clothes. He did not speak to her, but set the articles on the floor and departed.
Kitty did not stir. An hour passed; she sat as one in a trance.
The tallow dip was sinking. By and by she became conscious of a faint sound, a tapping. Whence it came she could not tell. She moved about cautiously, endeavouring to locate it. When she finally did the blood drummed in her ears. The trap! Someone was trying to get in through the trap!
Cutty! Thus soon! Who else could it be? She hunted for a piece of lumber light enough to raise to the trap. She tapped three times, and waited. Silence. She repeated the signal. This time it was answered. Cutty! In a little while she would be free, and Two-Hawks would not have to pay for her folly with his life. Terror and remorse departed forthwith.
She took the plank to the door and pushed one end under the door knob. Then she piled the other planks against the butt. The moment she heard steps on the stairs she would stand on the planks. It would be difficult to open that door. She sat down on the planks to wait. From time to time she built up the falling tallow. Cutty must have light. The tapping on the trap went on. They were breaking away the cement. Perhaps an hour passed. At least it seemed a very long time.
Steps on the stairs! She stood up, facing the door, the roots of her hair tingling. She heard the key turn in the lock; and then as in a nightmare she felt the planks under her feet stir slightly but with sinister persistence. She presently saw the toe of a boot insert, itself between the door and the jamb. The pressure increased; the space between the door and the jamb widened. Suddenly the boot vanished, the door closed, and the plank fell. Immediately thereafter Karlov stood inside the room, scowling suspiciously.
