It　would　save　a　good　deal　of　time。
  There　were　but　ten　apartments　in　the　building；　two　on　a　floor。　　The
  living　room　formed　an　L。　　Kitty's　buttressed　Gregor's。　　The　elevator
  shaft　was　inside；　facing　the　court；　and　the　stair　head　was　on　the
  Gregor　side　of　the　elevator。　　The　two　entrances　faced　each　other
  across　the　landing。
  As　Kitty　opened　her　door　to　step　outside　she　was　nonplussed　to　see
  two　men　issue　cautiously　from　the　Gregor　door。　　The　moment　they
  espied　her；　however；　there　was　a　mad　rush　for　the　stair　head。　　She
  could　hear　the　thud　of　their　feet　all　the　way　down　to　the　ground
  floor；　and　every　footfall　seemed　to　touch　her　heart。　　One　of　them
  carried　a　bundle。
  She　breathed　quickly；　and　she　knew　that　she　was　afraid。　　Neither
  man　was　Johnny　Two…Hawks。　　Something　dreadful　had　happened；　she　was
  sure　of　it。　　Reenforcing　her　sinking　courage　with　nerve　energy　she
  ran　across　to　the　Gregor　door　and　knocked。　　No　answer。　　She　knocked
  again；　then　she　tried　the　door。　　Locked。　　The　flutter　in　her　breast
  died　away；　she　became　quite　calm。　　She　was　going　to　enter　this
  apartment　by　the　way　of　the　fire　escape。　　The　window　he　had　come　out
  of　was　still　up。　　She　had　made　note　of　this　from　the　kitchen。　　In
  returning　he　had　stepped　on　to　the　springe　of　a　snare。
  She　hurried　back　to　her　kitchen　for　the　automatic。　　She　hadn't　the
  least　idea　how　to　manipulate　it；　but　she　was　no　longer　afraid　of　it。
  Bravely　she　stepped　out　on　to　the　fire　escape。　　To　reach　her
  objective　she　had　to　walk　under　the　ladder。　　Danger　often　puts　odd
  irrelevancies　into　the　human　brain。　　As　she　moved　forward　she
  wondered　if　there　was　anything　in　the　superstition　regarding　ladders。
  When　she　reached　the　window　she　leaned　against　the　brick　wall　and
  listened。　　Silence；　an　ominous　silence。　　The　window　was　open；　the
  curtain　up。　　Within；　what？　　For　as　long　as　five　minutes　she　waited；
  then　she　climbed　in。
  Now　as　this　bedroom　was　a　counterpart　of　her　own　she　knew　where　the
  light　button　would　be。　　She　might　stumble　over　a　chair　or　two；　but
  in　the　end　she　would　find　the　light。　　The　fingers　of　one　hand
  spread　out　before　her　and　the　other　clutching　the　impossible
  automatic；　she　succeeded　in　navigating　the　uncharted　reefs　of　an
  unfamiliar　room。　　She　blinked　for　a　moment　after　throwing　on　the
  light；　and　stood　with　her　back　to　the　wall；　the　automatic　wabbling
  at　nothing　in　particular。　　The　room　was　empty　so　far　as　she　could
  see。　　There　was　evidence　of　a　physical　encounter；　but　she　could　not
  tell　whether　it　was　due　to　the　former　or　to　the　latter　invasion。
  Where　was　he？　　From　where　she　stood　she　could　not　see　the　floor　on
  the　far　side　of　the　bed。　　Timidly　she　walked　past　the　foot　of　the
  bed　…　and　the　transient　paralysis　of　horror　laid　hold　of　her。　　She
  became　bereft　of　the　power　to　grasp　and　hold；　and　the　automatic
  slipped　from　her　fingers　and　thudded　on　the　carpet。
  On　the　floor　lay　poor　Johnny　Two…Hawks；　crumpled　grotesquely；　a
  streak　of　blood　zigzagging　across　his　forehead；　to　all　appearances；
  dead！
  CHAPTER　VII
  Twice　before　in　her　life　Kitty　had　looked　upon　death　by　violence；
  and　it　required　only　this　present　picture　to　convince　her　that　she
  would　never　be　able　to　gaze　upon　it　callously；　without　pity　and
  terror。　　Newspaper　life　…　at　least　the　reportorial　side　of　it　…　has
  an　odd　effect　upon　men　and　women；　it　sharpens　their　tragical
  instincts　and　perceptions　and　dulls　eternally　the　edge　of　tenderness
  and　sentimentality。　　It　was　natural　for　Kitty　to　possess　the　keenest
  perceptions　of　tragedy；　but　she　had　been　taken　out　of　the　reportorial
  field　in　time　to　preserve　all　her　tenderness　and　romanticism。
  Otherwise　she　would　have　seen　in　that　crumpled　object　with　the
  sinister　daub　of　blood　on　the　forehead　merely　a　story；　and　would
  have　approached　it　from　that　angle。　　But　was　he　dead？　　She　literally
  forced　her　steps　toward　the　body　and　stared。　　She　dropped　to　her
  knees　because　they　were　threatening　to　buckle　in　one　of　those
  flashes　of　physical　incoordination　to　which　the　strongest　will　must
  bow　occasionally。　　She　was　no　longer　afraid　of　the　tragedy；　but　she
  feared　the　great　surging　pity　that　was　striving　to　express　itself
  in　sobs；　and　she　knew　that　if　she　surrendered　she　would　forthwith
  become　hysterical　for　the　rest　of　the　evening　and　incompetent　to
  carry　out　the　plan　in　her　head。
  A　strong；　healthy　young　man　done　to　death　in　this　fashion　only　a　few
  minutes　after　he　had　left　her　kitchen！　　Somehow　she　could　not　look
  upon　him　as　a　stranger。　　She　had　given　him　food；　she　had　talked　to
  him；　she　had　even　laughed　with　him。　　He　was　not　like　those　dead　she
  had　seen　in　her　reportorial　days。　　Her　orbit　and　Johnny　Two…Hawks'
  had　indeterminately　touched；　she　had　known　old　Gregory；　or　Gregor；
  who　had　been　this　unfortunate　young　man's　friend。　　And　he　had　hoped
  they　might　never　meet　again！
  The　murderous　scoundrels　had　been　watching。　　They　must　have　entered
  the　apartment　shortly　after　he　had　entered　hers。　　Conceivably　they
  would　have　Gregor's　key。　　And　they　had　watched　and　waited；　striking
  him　down　it　may　have　been　at　the　very　moment　he　had　crossed　the
  sill　of　the　window。
  Her　hand　shook　so　idiotically　that　it　was　impossible　for　a　time　to
  tell　if　the　man's　heart　was　beating。　　All　at　once　a　wave　of　hot
  fury　rushed　over　her　…　fury　at　the　cowardliness　of　the　assault　…　and
  the　vertigo　passed。　　She　laid　her　palm　firmly　over　Johnny　Two…Hawks'
  heart。　　Alive！　　He　was　alive！　　She　straightened　his　body　and　put　a
  pillow　under　his　head。　　Then　she　sought　water　and　towels。
  There　was　no　cut　on　his　forehead；　only　blood；　but　the　top　of　his
  head　had　been　cruelly　beaten。　　He　was　alive；　but　without　immediate
  aid　he　might　die。　　The　poor　young　man！
  There　were　two　physicians　in　the　block；　one　or　the　other　would　be
  in。　　She　ran　to　the　door；　to　find　it　locked。　　She　had　forgotten。
  Next　she　found　the　telephone　wire　cut　and　the　speaking　tube　battered
  and　inutile。　　She　would　have　to　return　to　her　own　apartment
  to　summon　help。　　She　dared　not　leave　the　light　on。　　The　scoundrels
  might　possibly　return；　and　the　light　would　warn　them　that　their
  victim　had　been　discovered；　and　naturally　they　would　wish　to
  ascertain　whether　or　not　they　had　succeeded　in　their　murderous
  assault。
  As　she　was　passing　the　first…landing　windows　she　saw　Cutty　emerging
  from　the　elevator。　　She　flew　across　the　fire…escape　platform　with
  the　resilient　step　of　one　crossing　thin　ice。
  Probably　the　most　astonished　man　in　New　York　was　the　war
  correspondent　when　the　door　opened　and　a　pair　of　arms　were　flung
  about　him；　and　a　voice　smothered　in　the　lapel　of　his　coat　cried：
  〃Oh；　Cutty；　I　never　was　so　glad　to　see　any　one！〃
  〃What　in　the　name　of　…　〃
  〃Come！　　We'll　handle　this　ourselves。　　Hurry！〃　　She　dragged　him　along
  by　the　sleeve。
  〃But　…　〃
  〃It　is　life　and　death！　　No　talk　now！〃
  Cutty；　immaculate　in　his　evening　clothes；　very　much　perturbed；　went
  along　after　her。　　As　she　passed　through　the　kitchen　window　and
  beckoned　him　to　follow　he　demurred。
  〃Kitty；　what　the　deuce　is　going　on　here？〃
  〃I'll　answer　your　questions　when　we　get　him　into　my　apartment。　　They
  tried　to　murder　him；　left　him　there　to　die！〃
  Cutty　possessed　a　great　art；　an　art　highly　developed　only　in
  explorers　and　newspaper　reporters　of　the　first　order　…　adaptability；
  of　being　able　to　cast　aside　instantly　the　conventions　of　civilization
  and　let　down　the　bars　to　the　primordial；　the　instinctive；　and　the
  natural。　　Thus　the　Cutty　who　stepped　out　beside　Kitty　into　the　drizzle
  was　not　the　Cutty　she　had　admitted　into　the　apartment。　　She　did　not
  recognize　this　remarkable　transition　until　later；　and　then　she
  discovered　that　Cutty；　the　suave　and　lackadaisical　in　idleness；　was
  a　tremendous　animal　hibernating　behind　a　crackle　shell。
  Ordinarily　Cutty　would　have　declined　to　come　through　this　shell；
  thin　as　it　was；　he　liked　these　catnaps　between　great　activities。
  But　this　lovely　creature　was　Conover's　daughter；　and　she　would
  have　the　seventh　sense…divination　of　the　born　reporter。　　Something
  big　was　in　the　air。
  〃Go　on！〃　he　said；　briskly。　　〃I'm　at　your　heels。　　And　stoop　as　you
  pass　those　hall　windows。　　No　use　throwing　a　silhouette　for　somebody
  in　those　rear　houses　to　see。〃　　。　。　。　　Old　Tommy　Conover's　daughter；
  sure　pop！　　。　。　。　　There　you　go；　under　the　ladder！　　You've　dished　the
  whole　affair；　whatever　it　is。。。。　　No；　no！　　Just　spoofing；　Kitty。　　A
  long　face　is　no　good　anywhere；　even　at　a　funeral。。。。　　This　window？
  All　right。　　Know　where　the　lights　are？　　Very　good。〃
  When　Cutty　saw　the　man　on　the　floor　he　knelt　quickly。　　〃Nasty　bang
  on　the　head；　but　he's　alive。　　What's　this？　　His　cap。　　Poughkeepsie。
  By　George；　padded　with　his　handkerchief！　　Must　have　known　something
  was　going　to　fall　on　him。　　Now；　what's　it　all　about？〃
  〃When　we　get　him　to　my　apartment。〃
  〃Yours？　　Good　Lord；　what's　the　matter　with　this？〃
  〃They　tried　to　kill　him　here。　　They　might　return　to　see　if　they　had
  succeeded。　　They　mustn't　find　where　he　has　gone。　　I'm　strong。　　I　can
  take　hold　of　his　knees。〃
  〃Tut！　　Neither　of　us　could　walk　backward　over　that　fire　escape。　　He
  looks　husky；　but　I'll　try　it。　　Now　obey　me　without　question　or
  comment。　　You'll　have　to　help　me　get　him　outside　the　window　and　in
  through　y