〃And　Gregor　and　this　poor　young　man　are　in　some　way　mixed　up　with
  internationalism！〃
  〃Victims；　probably。〃
  〃What　is　the　other　thing　you　wish　to　tell　me？〃
  〃Because　your　eyes　are　slate　blue　like　your　mother's。　　I　loved　your
  mother；　Kitty；〃　said　Cutty；　blinking　into　his　pipe。　　〃And　the
  singular　fact　is；　your　father　knew　but　your　mother　never　did。　　I
  was　never　able　to　tell　your　mother　after　your　father　died。　　Their
  bodies　were　separated；　but　not　their　spirits。〃
  Kitty　nodded。　　So　that　was　it？　　Poor　Cutty！
  〃I　make　this　confession　because　I　want　you　to　understand　my　attitude
  toward　you。　　I　am　going　to　elect　myself　as　your　special　guardian　so
  long　as　I'm　in　New　York。　　From　now　on；　when　I　ask　you　to　do
  something；　understand　that　I　believe　it　best　for　you。　　If　my
  suspicions　are　correct　we　are　not　dealing　with　fools　but　with　madmen。
  The　most　dangerous　human　being；　Kitty；　is　an　honest　man　with　a
  half…baked　or　crooked　idea；　and　that's　what　this　world　pother；
  Bolshevism；　is　…　honest　men　with　crooked　ideas；　carrying　the　torch
  of　anarchism　and　believing　it　enlightenment。　　What　makes　them　tear
  down　things？　　Every　beautiful　building　is　only　a　monument　to　their
  former　wretchedness；　and　so　they　annihilate。　　None　of　them　actually
  knows　what　he　wants。　　A　thousand　will…o'…the…wisps　in　front　of
  them；　and　all　alike。　　A　thousand　years　to　throw　off　the　shackles；
  and　they　expect　Utopia　in　ten　minutes！　　It　makes　you　want　to　weep。
  Socialism　…　the　brotherhood　of　man　…　is　a　beautiful　thing
  theoretically；　but　it　is　like　some　plays　…　they　read　well　but　do　not
  act。　　Lopping　off　heads；　believing　them　to　be　ideas！〃
  〃The　poor　things！〃
  〃That's　it。　　Though　I　betray　them　I　pity　them。　Democracy；　slowly
  and　surely。　　As　prickly　with　faults　as　a　cactus　pear；　but　every　year
  there　are　less　prickles。　　We　don't　stand　still　or　retrogress；　we
  keep　going　on　and　up。　　Take　this　town。　　Think　of　It　to…day　and
  compare　it　with　the　town　your　father　knew。　　There's　the　bell。　　I
  imagine　that　will　be　Harrison。　　If　we　can　move　this　chap　will　you
  go　to　a　hotel　for　the　night？〃
  〃I'm　going　to　stay　here；　Cutty。　　That's　final。〃
  Cutty　sighed。
  CHAPTER　IX
  At　the　precinct　station　the　squat　man　gave　a　name　and　an　address　to
  the　bored　sergeant　at　the　desk；　passed　out　a　cigar；　lit　one　himself；
  expressed　some　innocuous　opinions　upon　one　or　two　topics　of　the　day；
  and　walked　leisurely　out　of　the　precinct。　　He　wanted　to　laugh。　　These
  pigheads　had　never　thought　to　question　his　presence　in　the　backyard
  of　the　house　in　Seventy…ninth　Street。　　It　was　the　way　he　had　carried
  himself。　　Those　years　in　New　York；　prior　to　the　war；　had　not　been
  wasted。　　The　brass…buttoned　fools！
  Serenely　unconscious　that　he　was　at　liberty　by　explicit　orders；
  because　the　Department　of　Justice　did　not　care　to　trap　a　werewolf
  before　ascertaining　where　the　pack　was　and　what　the　kill；　he
  proceeded　leisurely　to　the　corner；　turned；　and　broke　into　a　run；
  which　carried　him　to　a　drug　store　in　Eightieth　Street。　　Here　he　was
  joined　by　two　men；　apparently　coal　heavers　by　the　look　of　their
  hands　and　faces。
  〃They　will　take　him　to　a　hospital。　　Find　where；　then　notify　me。
  Remember；　this　is　your　business；　and　woe　to　you　if　you　fail。　　Where
  is　it？〃　　One　of　the　men　extended　an　object　wrapped　in　ordinary
  grocer's　paper。
  〃Ha！　　That's　good。　　I　shall　enjoy　myself　presently。　　Remember：
  telephone　me　the　moment　you　learn　where　they　take　him。　　He　is　still
  alive；　bunglers！　　And　you　came　away　empty…handed。〃
  〃There　was　nothing　on　him。　　We　searched。〃
  〃He　has　hidden　them　in　one　of　those　rooms。　　I'll　attend　to　that
  later。　　Watch　the　hospital　for　an　hour　or　so；　then　telephone　for
  information　regarding　his　condition。　　Is　that　motor　for　me？　　Very
  good。　　Remember！〃
  Inside　the　taxicab　the　squat　man　patted　the　object　on　his　knees；
  and　chuckled　from　time　to　time　audibly。　　It　would　be　worth　all　that
  journey；　all　he　had　gone　through　since　dawn　that　morning。　　Stefani
  Gregor！　　After　these　seven　long　years　…　the　man　who　had　betrayed
  him！　　To　reach　into　his　breast　and　squeeze　his　heart　as　one　might
  squeeze　a　bit　of　cheese！　　Many　things　to　tell；　many　pictures　to
  paint。　　He　rode　far　downtown；　wound　in　and　out　of　the　warehouse
  district　for　a　while；　then　dismissed　the　taxi　and　proceeded　on　foot
  to　his　destination　…　a　decayed　brick　mansion　of　the　40's　sandwiched
  in　between　two　deserted　warehouses。　　In　the　hall　of　the　first
  landing　a　man　sat　in　a　chair　under　the　gas；　reading　a　newspaper。　　At
  the　approach　of　the　squat　man　he　sprang　to　his　feet；　but　a　phrase
  dissipated　his　apprehension　and　he　nodded　toward　a　door。
  〃Unlock　it　for　me　and　see　that　I　am　not　disturbed。〃
  Presently　the　squat　man　stood　inside　the　room；　which　was　dark。　　He
  struck　a　match　and　peered　about　for　the　candle。　　The　light　discovered
  a　room　barren　of　all　furniture　excepting　the　table　upon　which　stood
  the　candle；　and　a　single　chair。　　In　this　chair　was　a　man；　bound。
  He　was　small　and　dapper；　his　gray　hair　swept　back　a　la　Liszt。　　His
  chin　was　on　his　breast；　his　body　limp。　　Apparently　the　bonds　alone
  held　him　in　the　chair。
  The　squat　man　laid　his　bundle　on　the　table　and　approached　the
  prisoner。
  〃Stefani　Gregor；　look　up；　it　is　I！〃　　He　drummed　on　his　chest　like
  a　challenging　gorilla。　　〃I；　Boris　Karlov！〃
  Slowly　the　eyelids　of　the　prisoner　went　up；　revealing　mild　blue　eyes。
  But　almost　instantly　the　mildness　was　replaced　by　an　agate　hardness；
  and　the　body　became　upright。
  〃Yes；　it　is　Boris；　whom　you　betrayed。　　But　I　escaped　by　a　hair；
  Stefani；　and　we　meet　again。〃
  What　good　to　tell　this　poor　madman　that　Stefani　Gregor　had　not
  betrayed　him；　that　he　had　only　warned　those　marked　for　death？　　There
  was　no　longer　reason　inside　that　skull。　　To　die；　probably　in　a　few
  moments。　　So　be　it。　　Had　he　not　been　ready　for　seven　years？　　But
  that　poor　boy　…　to　have　come　all　these　thousands　of　miles；　only　to
  walk　into　a　trap！　　Had　he　found　that　note？　　Had　they　killed　him？
  Doubtless　they　had　or　Boris　Karlov　would　not　be　in　this　room。
  〃We　killed　him　to…night；　Stefani；　in　your　rooms。　　We　threw　out　the
  food　so　he　would　have　to　seek　something　to　eat。　　The　last　of　that
  breed；　stem　and　branch！　　We　are　no　longer　the　mud；　we　ourselves
  are　the　heels。　　We　are　conquering　the　world。　　Today　Europe　is　ours；
  to…morrow；　America！〃
  A　wintry　little　smile　stirred　the　lips　of　the　man　in　the　chair。
  America；　with　its　keen　perceptions　of　the　ridiculous；　its　withering
  humour！
  〃No　more　the　dissolute　opera　dancers　will　dance　to　your　fiddling；
  Stefani；　while　we　starve　in　the　town。　　Fiddler；　valet；　tutor；　the
  rivers　and　seas　of　Russia　are　red。　　We　roll　east　and　west；　and　our
  emblem　is　red。　　Stem　and　branch！　　We　ground　our　heels　in　their　faces
  as　for　centuries　they　ground　theirs　in　ours。　　He　escaped　us　there
  …　but　I　was　Nemesis。　　He　died　to…night。〃
  The　body　in　the　chair　relaxed　a　little。　　〃He　was　clean　and　honest；
  Boris。　　I　made　him　so。　　He　would　have　done　fine　things　if　you　had
  let　him　live。〃
  〃That　breed？〃
  〃Why；　you　yourself　loved　him　when　he　was　a　boy！〃
  〃Stem　and　branch！　　I　loved　my　little　sister　Anna；　too。　　But　what　did
  they　do　to　her　behind　those　marble　walls？　　Did　you　fiddle　for　her？
  What　was　she　when　they　let　her　go？　　My　pretty　little　Anna！　　The　fires
  of　hell　for　those　damned　green　stones　of　yours；　Stefani！　　She　heard
  of　them　and　wanted　to　see　them；　and　you　promised。〃
  〃I？　　I　never　promised　Anna！　　。　。　。　　So　that　was　it？　　Boris；　I　only
  saw　her　there。　　I　never　knew　what　brought　her。　　But　the　boy　was　in
  England　then。〃
  〃The　breed；　the　breed！〃　roared　the　squat　man。　　〃Ha；　but　you　should
  have　seen！　　Those　gay　officers　and　their　damned　master　…　we　left
  them　with　their　faces　in　the　mud；　Stefani；　in　the　mud！　　And　the
  women　begged。　　Fine　music！　　Those　proud　hearts；　begging　Boris　Karlov
  for　their　lives　…　their　faces　in　the　mud！　　You；　born　of　us　in　those
  Astrakhan　Hills；　you　denied　us　because　you　liked　your　fiddle　and
  a　full　belly；　and　to　play　keeper　of　those　emeralds。　　The　winding
  paths　of　torture　and　misery　and　death　by　which　they　came　into　the
  possession　of　that　house！　　And　always　the　proletariat　has　had　to　pay
  in　blood　and　daughters。　　You；　of　the　people；　to　betray　us！〃
  〃I　did　not　betray　you。　　I　only　tried　to　save　those　who　had　been
  kind　to　me。〃
  A　cunning　light　shot　into　Karlov's　eyes。　　〃The　emeralds！〃　　He　struck
  his　pocket。　　〃Here；　Stefani；　and　they　shall　be　broken　up　to　buy　bread
  for　our　people。〃
  〃That　poor　boy！　　So　he　brought　them！　　What　are　you　going　to　do　with
  me？〃
  〃Watch　you　grow　thin；　Stefani。　　You　want　death；　you　shall　want　food
  instead。　　Oh；　a　little；　enough　to　keep　you　alive。　　You　must　learn
  what　it　is　to　be　hungry。〃
  The　squat　man　picked　up　the　bundle　from　the　table　and　tore　off　the
  wrapping　paper。　　A　violin　the　colour　of　old　Burgundy　lay　revealed。
  〃Boris！〃　　The　man　in　the　chair　writhed。
  〃Have　I　waked　you；　Stefani？〃　…　tenderly。　　〃The　Stradivarius　…　the
  very　grand　duke　of　fiddles！　　And　he　and　his　damned　officers；　how
  they　used　to　call　out　…　'Get　Stefani　to　fiddle　for　us！'　And　you
  fiddled；　dragged　your　genius　though　the　mud　to　keep　your　belly　warm！〃
  〃To　save　a　soul；　Boris　…　the　boy's。　　When　I　fiddled　his　uncle　forgot
  to　drag　him　into　an　orgy。　　Ah；　yes；