Everything　about　her　was　dainty；　her　body　and　her　mind。　　The
  background　of　pans　and　dishes；　gas　range　and　sink　did　not　absorb
  Kitty；　her　presence　here　in　the　morning　lifted　everything　out　of　the
  rut　of　commonplace　and　created　an　atmosphere　that　was　ornamental。
  Pink　peignoir　and　turquoise…blue　boudoir　cap；　silk　petticoat　and
  stockings　and　adorable　little　slippers。　　No　harm　to　tell　the　secret！
  Kitty　was　educating　herself　for　a　husband。　　She　knew　that　if　she
  acquired　the　habit　of　daintiness　at　breakfast　before　marriage　it
  would　become　second　nature　after　marriage。　　Moreover；　she　was
  determined　that　it　should　be　tremendous　news　that　would　cause　a
  newspaper　to　intervene。　　She　had　all　the　confidence　in　the　world
  in　her　mirror。
  She　got　her　breakfast　this　morning；　singing。　　She　was　happy。　　She
  had　found　a　door　out　of　monotony；　theatrical　drama　had　given　way　to
  the　living。　　She　had　opened　the　book　of　adventure　and　she　was　going
  straight　through　to　finis。　　That　there　was　an　undertow　of　the
  sinister　escaped　her　or　she　ignored　it。
  In　all　high…strung　Irish　souls　there　is　a　bit　of　the　old　wife；　the
  foreteller；　the　gift　of　prescience；　and　Kitty　possessed　this　in　a
  mild　degree。　　Something　held　her　here；　when　for　a　dozen　reasons　she
  should　have　gone　elsewhere。
  She　strained　the　coffee；　humming　a　tune　out　of　The　Mikado；　the
  revival　of　which　she　had　seen　lately：
  My　object　all　sublime
  I　shall　achieve　in　time
  To　make　the　punishment　fit　the　crime。
  The　punishment　fit　the　crime。
  And　make　the　prisoner　pent
  Unwillingly　represent
  A　source　of　innocent　merriment。
  Of　innocent　merriment！
  And　there　you　were！　　To　make　the　punishment　fit　the　crime。　　Wall　in
  the　Bolsheviki；　the　I。W。W。's；　the　Red　Socialist；　the　anarchists　…　and
  let　them　try　it　for　ten　years。　　Those　left　would　be　glad　enough　to
  embrace　democracy　and　sanity。　　The　poor　benighted　things；　to　imagine
  that　they　were　going　forward　there　in　Russia！　　What　kind　of　mentality
  was　it　that　could　conceive　a　blessing　to　humanity　in　the　abolition　of
  baths　and　work？　　And　Cutty　felt　sorry　for　them。　　Well；　as　for　that；　so
  did　Kitty　Conover；　and　she　would　continue　feeling　sorry　for　them　so
  long　as　they　remained　thousands　of　miles　away。　　But　next　door！
  〃Grapefruit；　eggs　on　toast；　and　coffee；　mademoiselle　is　served！〃　she
  cried；　gayly；　sitting　down　and　attacking　her　breakfast　with　the　zest
  of　healthy　youth。
  Often　the　eyes　are　like　the　lenses　of　a　camera　minus　the　sensitized
  plate；　they　see　objects　without　printing　them。　　Thus　a　dozen　times
  Kitty's　glance　absently　swept　the　range　and　the　racks　on　each　side
  of　the　stovepipe；　one　rack　burdened　with　an　empty　pancake　jug　and
  the　other　cluttered　with　old…fashioned　flatirons；　but　she　saw　nothing。
  She　was　carefully　reviewing　the　events　of　the　night　before。　　She
  could　not　dismiss　the　impression　that　Cutty　knew　Stefani　Gregor　or
  had　heard　of　him；　and　in　either　case　it　signified　that　Gregor　was
  something　more　than　a　valet。　　And　decidedly　Two…Hawks　was　not　of　the
  Russian　peasantry。
  By　the　time　she　was　ready　to　leave　for　the　office　the　Irish　blood
  in　her　was　seething　and　bubbling　and　dancing。　　She　knew　she　would
  do　crazy；　impulsive　things　all　day。　　It　was　easy　to　analyze　this
  exuberance。　　She　had　reached　out　into　the　dark　and　touched　danger；
  and　found　a　new　thrill　in　a　humdrum　world。
  The　Great　Dramatist　had　produced　a　tremendous　drama　and　she　had
  watched　curtain　after　curtain　fall　from　the　wrong　side　of　the　lights。
  Now　she　had　been　given　a　speaking　part；　and　she　would　be　down　stage
  for　a　moment　or　two　…　dusting　the　furniture　…　while　the　stars　were
  retouching　their　make…up。　　It　was　not　the　thought　of　Cutty；　of
  Gregor；　of　Johnny　Two…Hawks；　of　hidden　treasure；　simply　she　had
  arrived　somewhere　in　the　great　drama。
  When　she　reached　the　office　she　had　a　hard　time　of　it　to　settle　down
  to　the　day's　work。
  〃Hustle　up　that　Sunday　stuff；〃　said　Burlingame。　　Kitty　laughed。
  Just　as　she　had　pictured　it。　　She　hustled。
  〃I　have　it！〃　she　cried；　breaking　a　spell　of　silence。
  〃What　…　St。　　Vitus？〃　inquired　Burlingame；　patiently。
  〃No；　the　Morgue！〃
  〃What　the　dickens　…　！〃
  But　Kitty　was　no　longer　there　to　answer。
  In　all　newspaper　offices　there　is　a　department　flippantly　designated
  as　the　Morgue。　　Obituaries　on　ice；　as　it　were。　　A　photograph　or　an
  item　concerning　a　great　man；　a　celebrated；　beauty　or　some　notorious
  rogue；　from　the　king　calibre　down　to　Gyp…the…Blood　brand；　all
  indexed　and　laid　away　against　the　instant　need。　　So；　running　her
  finger　tip　down　the　K's；　Kitty　found　Karlov。　　The　half　tone　which
  she　eventually　exhumed　from　the　tin　box　was　an　excellent　likeness　of
  the　human　gorilla　who　had　entered　her　rooms　with　the　policeman。　　She
  would　be　able　to　carry　this　positive　information　to　Cutty　that
  afternoon。
  When　she　left　the　office　at　four　she　took　the　Subway　to　Forty…second
  Street。　　She　engaged　a　taxi　from　the　Knickerbocker　and　discharged　it
  at　the　north　entrance　to　the　Waldorf；　which　she　entered。　　She　walked
  through　to　the　south　entrance　and　got　into　another　taxi。　　She　left
  this　at　Wanamaker's；　ducking　and　dodging　through　the　crowded　aisles。
  She　selected　this　hour　because；　being　a　woman；　she　knew　that　the
  press　of　shoppers　would　be　the　greatest　during　the　day。　　Karlov's
  man　and　the　secret…service　operative　detailed　by　Cutty　both　made　the
  same　mistake　…　followed　Kitty　into　the　dry…goods　shop　and　lost　her
  as　completely　as　if　she　had　popped　up　in　China。　　At　quarter　to　five
  she　stepped　into　Elevator　Number　Four　of　the　building　which　Cutty
  called　his　home；　very　well　pleased　with　herself。
  CHAPTER　XIII
  To　understand　Kitty　at　this　moment　one　must　be　able　to　understand
  the　Irish；　and　nobody　does　or　can　or　will。　　Consider　her　twenty…four
  years；　her　corpuscular　inheritance；　the　love　of　drama　and　the　love
  of　adventure。　　Imagine　possessing　sound　ideas　of　life　and　the　ability
  to　apply　them；　and　spiritually　always　galloping　off　on　some　broad
  highway　…　more　often　than　not　furnished　by　some　engaging　scoundrel
  of　a　novelist　…　and　you　will　be　able　to　construct　a　half　tone　of
  Kitty　Conover。
  That　civilization　might　be　actually　on　its　deathbed；　that　positively
  half　of　the　world　was　starving　and　dying　and　going　mad　through　the
  reaction　of　the　German　blight　touched　her　in　a　detached　way。　　She
  felt　sorry；　dreadfully　sorry；　for　the　poor　things；　but　as　she　could
  not　help　them　she　dismissed　them　from　her　thoughts　every　morning　after
  she　had　read　the　paper；　the　way　most　of　us　do　here　in　these　United
  States。　　You　cannot　grapple　with　the　misery　of　an　unknown　person
  several　thousand　miles　away。
  That　which　had　taken　place　during　the　past　twenty…four　hours　was　to
  her　a　lark；　a　blindman's　buff　for　grown…ups。　　It　was　not　in　her　to
  tremble；　to　shudder；　to　hesitate；　to　weigh　this　and　to　balance
  that。　　Irish　curiosity。　　Perhaps　in　the　original　that　immortal　line
  read：　〃The　Irish　rush　in　where　angels　fear　to　tread；〃　and　some
  proofreader　had　a　particular　grudge　against　the　race。
  When　the　elevator　reached　the　seventeenth　floor；　the　passengers
  surged　forth。　　All　except　Kitty；　who　tarried。
  〃We　don't　carry　to　the　eighteenth；　miss。
  〃I　am　Miss　Conover；〃　she　replied。　　〃I　dared　not　tell　you　until　we
  were　alone。〃
  〃I　see。〃　The　boy　nodded；　swept　her　with　an　appraising　glance；　and
  sent　the　elevator　up　to　the　loft。
  〃You　understand？　　If　any　one　inquires　about　me；　you　don't　remember。〃
  〃Yes；　miss。　　The　boss's　orders。〃
  〃And　if　any　one　does　inquire　you　are　to　report　at　once。〃
  〃That；　too。〃
  The　boy　rolled　back　the　door　and　Kitty　stepped　out　upon　a　Laristan
  runner　of　rose　hues　and　cobalt　blue。　　She　wondered　what　it　cost
  Cutty　to　keep　up　an　establishment　like　this。　　There　were　fourteen
  rooms；　seven　facing　the　north　and　seven　facing　the　west；　with
  glorious　vistas　of　steam…wreathed　roofs　and　brick　Matterhorns　and
  the　dim　horizon　touching　the　sea。　　Fine　rugs　and　tapestries　and
  furniture　gathered　from　the　four　ends　of　the　world；　but　wholly
  livable　and　in　no　sense　atmospheric　of　the　museum。　　Cutty　had
  excellent　taste。
  She　had　visited　the　apartment　but　twice　before；　once　in　her　childhood
  and　again　when　she　was　eighteen。　　Cutty　had　given　a　dinner　in　honour
  of　her　mother's　birthday。　　She　smiled　as　she　recalled　the　incident。
  Cutty　had　placed　a　box　of　candles　at　the　side　of　her　mother's　plate
  and　told　her　to　stick　as　many　into　the　cake　as　she　thought　best。
  〃Hello！〃　said　Cutty；　emerging　from　one　of　the　doors。　　〃What　the
  dickens　have　you　been　up　to？　　My　man　has　just　telephoned　me　that　he
  lost　track　of　you　in　Wanamaker's。〃
  Kitty　explained；　delighted。
  〃Well；　well！　　If　you　can　lose　a　man　such　as　I　set　to　watch　you；
  you'll　have　no　trouble　shaking　the　others。〃
  〃It　was　Karlov；　Cutty。〃
  〃How　did　you　learn？〃
  〃Searched　the　morgue　and　found　a　half　tone　of　him。　　Positively
  Karlov。　　How　is　the　patient？〃
  〃Harrison　says　he's　pulling　round　amazingly。　　A　tough　skull。　　He'll
  be　up　for　his　meals　in　no　time。〃
  〃How　do　you　do　it？〃　she　asked　with　a　gesture。
  〃Do　what？〃
  〃Manage　a　place　like　this？　　In　a　busy　office　district。　　It's　the
  most　wonderful　apartmen