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。
  CHAPTER　XXX
  Cutty　arrived　at　the　apartment　in　time　to　share　dinner　with　Hawksley。
  He　had　wisely　decided　to　say　nothing　about　the　escapade　of　Hawksley
  and　Kitty　Conover；　since　it　had　terminated　fortunately。　　Bernini
  had　telegraphed　the　gist　of　the　adventure。　　He　could　readily
  understand　Hawksley's　part；　but　Kitty's　wasn't　reducible　to
  ordinary　terms　of　expression。　　The　young　chap　had　run　wild　because
  his　head　still　wobbled　on　his　shoulders　and　because　his　isolation
  was　beginning　to　scratch　his　nerves。　　But　for　Kitty　to　run　wild　with
  him　offered　a　blank　wall　to　speculation。　　（As　if　he　could　solve　the
  riddle　when　Kitty　herself　could　not！）　　So　he　determined　to　shut
  himself　up　in　his　study　and　shuffle　the　chrysoprase。　　Something
  might　come　of　it。　　Looking　backward；　he　recognized　the　salient；
  at　no　time　had　he　been　quite　sure　of　Kitty。　　She　seemed　to　be　a
  combination　of　shallows　and　unfathomable　deeps。
  》From　the　Pennsylvania　Station　he　had　called　up　the　office。　　Kitty
  had　gone。　　Bernini　informed　him　that　Kitty　was　dining　at　a　caf？on
  the　way　home。　　Cutty　was　thorough。　　He　telephoned　the　restaurant
  and　was　advised　that　Miss　Conover　had　reserved　a　table。　　He　had
  forgotten　to　send　down　the　operative　who　guarded　Kitty　at　that　end。
  But　the　distance　from　the　office　to　the　Subway　was　so　insignificant！
  〃You　are　looking　fit；〃　he　said　across　the　table。
  〃Ought　to　be　off　your　hands　by　Monday。　　But　what　about　Stefani
  Gregor？　　I　can't　stir；　leaving　him　hanging　on　a　peg。〃
  〃I　am　going　into　the　study　shortly　to　decide　that。　　Head　bother　you？〃
  〃Occasionally。〃
  〃Ryan　easy　to　get　along　with？〃
  〃Rather　a　good　sort。　　I　say；　you　know；　you've　seen　a　good　deal　of
  life。　　Which　do　you　consider　the　stronger；　the　inherited　traits　or
  environment？〃
  〃Environment。　　That　is　the　true　mould。　　There　is　good　and　bad　in
  all　of　us。　　It　is　brought　into　prominence　by　the　way　we　live。　　An
  angel　cannot　touch　pitch　without　becoming　defiled。　　On　the　other
  hand；　the　worst　gutter　rats　in　the　world　saved　France。　　Do　you
  suppose　that　thought　will　not　always　be　tugging　at　and　uplifting
  those　who　returned　from　the　first　Marne？〃
  〃There　is　hope；　then；　for　me！〃
  〃Hope？〃
  〃Yes。　　You　know　that　my　father；　my　uncle；　and　my　grandfather　were
  fine　scoundrels。〃
  〃Under　their　influence　you　would　have　been　one；　too。　　But　no　man
  could　live　with　Stefani　Gregor　and　not　absorb　his　qualities。　　Your
  environment　has　been　Anglo…Saxon；　where　the　first　block　in　the
  picture　is　fair　play。　　You　have　been　constantly　under　the　tutelage
  of　a　fine　and　lofty　personality；　Gregor's。　　Whatever　evil　traits
  you　may　have　inherited；　they　have　become　subject　to　the　influences
  that　have　surrounded　you。　　Take　me；　for　instance。　　I　was　born　in　a
  rather　puritanical　atmosphere。　　My　environments　have　always　been
  good。　　Yet　there　lurks　in　me　the　taint　of　Macaire。　　Given　the　wrong
  environment；　I　should　now　have　my　picture　in　the　Rogues'　Gallery。〃
  〃You？〃
  〃Yes。〃
  Hawksley　played　with　his　fork。　　〃If　you　had　a　daughter　would　you
  trust　me　with　her？〃
  〃Yes。　　Any　man　who　can　weep　unashamed　over　the　portrait　of　his
  mother　may　be　trusted。　　Once　you　are　out　there　in　Montana　you'll
  forget　all　about　your　paternal　forbears。〃
  Handsome　beggar；　thought　Cutty；　but　evidently　born　under　the　opal。
  An　inexplicable　resentment　against　his　guest　stirred　his　heart。　　He
  resented　his　youth；　his　ease　of　manner；　his　fluency　in　the　common
  tongue。　　He　was　theoretically　a　Britisher；　he　thought　British；
  approached　subjects　from　a　British　point　of　view。　　A　Britisher
  …　except　when　he　had　that　fiddle　tucked　under　his　chin。　　Then
  Cutty　admitted　he　did　not　know　what　he　was。　　Devil　take　him！
  There　must　have　been　something　electrical　in　Cutty's　resentment；
  for　the　object　of　it　felt　it　subtly；　and　it　fired　his　own。　　He
  resented　the　freedom　of　action　that　had　always　been　denied　him；
  resented　his　host's　mental　and　physical　superiority。　　Did　Cutty
  care　for　the　girl；　or　was　he　playing　the　game　as　it　had　been
  suggested　to　him？　　Money　and　freedom。　　But　then；　it　was　in　no
  sense　a　barter；　she　would　be　giving　nothing；　and　the　old　beggar
  would　be　asking　nothing。　　His　suggestion！　　He　laughed。
  〃What's　the　joke？〃　asked　Cutty；　looking　up　from　his　coffee；　which
  he　was　stirring　with　unnecessary　vigour。
  〃It　isn't　a　joke。　　I'm　bally　well　twisted。　　I　laugh　now　when　I
  think　of　something　tragic。　　I　am　sorry　about　last　night。　　I　was
  mad；　I　suppose。〃
  〃Tell　me　about　it。〃
  Cutty　listened　intently　and　smiled　occasionally。　　Mad　as　hatters；
  both　of　them。　　He　and　Kitty　couldn't　have　gone　on　a　romp　like　this；
  but　Kitty　and　Hawksley　could。　　Thereupon　his　resentment　boiled　up
  again。
  〃Have　you　any　idea　why　she　took　such　a　risk？　　Why　she　came　here；
  knowing　me　to　be　absent？〃
  〃She　spoke　of　a　problem。　　I　fancy　it　related　to　your　approaching
  marriage。　　She　told　me。〃
  Cutty　laid　down　his　spoon。　　〃I'd　like　to　dump　Your　Highness　into
  the　middle　of　East　River　for　putting　that　idea　into　my　head。　　She
  has　consented　to　it；　and　now；　damn　it；　I've　got　to　back　out　of　it！〃
  Cutty　rose　and　flung　down　his　napkin。
  〃Why？〃　asked　the　bewildered　Hawksley。
  〃Because　there　is　in　me　the　making　of　a　first…rate　scoundrel；　and
  I　never　should　have　known　it　if　you　and　your　affairs　hadn't　turned
  up。
  Cutty　entered　his　study　and　slammed　the　door；　leaving　Hawksley　prey
  to　so　many　conflicting　emotions　that　his　head　began　to　bother　him。
  Back　out　of　it！　　Why？　　Why　should　Kitty　have　a　problem　to　solve　over
  such　a　marriage　of　convenience；　and　why　should　the　old　thoroughbred
  want　to　back　out？
  Kitty　would　be　free；　then？　　A　flash　of　fire；　which　subsided　quickly
  under　the　smothering　truth。　　What　if　she　were　free？　　He　could　not
  ask　her　to　be　his　wife。　　Not　because　of　last　night's　madness。　　That
  no　longer　troubled　him。　　She　was　the　sort　who　would　understand；　if
  he　told　her。　　She　had　a　soul　big　with　understanding。　　It　was　that
  he　walked　in　the　shadow　of　death；　and　would　so　long　as　Karlov
  was　free；　and　he　could　not　ask　any　woman　to　share　that。
  He　pushed　back　his　chair　slowly。　　In　the　living　room　he　took　the
  Amati　from　its　case　and　began　improvising。　　What　the　chrysoprase
  did　for　Cutty　the　fiddle　did　for　this　derelict　…　solved　problems。
  He　reviewed　all　the　phases　as　he　played。　　That　dish　of　bacon　and
  eggs；　the　resolute　air　of　her；　that　popping　fan！　　＇Allegretto。＇
  She　had　found　him　senseless　on　the　floor。　　She　had　had　the　courage
  to　come　to　his　assistance。　　＇Andante　con　espressione。＇　　What　had
  been　in　her　mind　that　night　she　had　taken　flight　from　his　bedroom；
  after　having　given　him　the　wallet？　　Something　like　tears。　　What
  about？　　An　American　girl；　natural；　humorous；　and　fanciful。　　Somehow
  he　felt　assured　that　it　had　not　been　his　kisses；　she　had　looked
  into　his　eyes　and　seen　the　taint。　　Always　there；　the　beast　that　old
  Stefani　had　chained　and　subdued。　　He　knew　now　that　this　beast　would
  never　again　lift　its　head。　　And　he　had　let　her　go　without　a　sign。
  ＇Dolorosomente。＇　　To　have　gone　through　life　with　a　woman　who　would
  have　understood　his　nature。　　The　test　of　her　had　been　last　night　in
  the　streets。　　His　mood　had　been　hers。　　＇Allegretto　con　amore。＇
  〃Love；〃　he　said；　lowering　the　bow。
  〃Love；〃　said　Cutty；　shifting　his　chrysoprase。　　There　was　no　fool
  like　an　old　fool。　　It　did　not　serve　to　recall　Molly　in　all　her
  glory；　to　reach　hither　and　yon　for　a　handhold　to　pull　him　out　of
  this　morass。　　Molly　had　become　an　invisible　ghost。　　He　loved　her
  daughter。　　Double　sunset；　the　phenomenon　of　the　Indian　Ocean　was
  now　being　enacted　upon　his　own　horizon。　　Double　sunset。
  But　why　should　Kitty　have　any　problem　to　solve？　　Why　should　she
  dodder　over　such　a　trifle　as　this　prospective　official　marriage？
  It　was　only　a　joke　which　would　legalize　his　generosity。　　She　had
  sent　that　telegram　after　leaving　this　apartment。　　What　had　happened
  here　to　decide　her？　　Had　Hawksley　fiddled？　　There　was　something
  the　matter　with　the　green　stones　to…night；　they　evoked　nothing。
  He　leaned　back　in　his　chair；　listening；　the　bowl　of　his　pipe
  touching　the　lapel　of　his　coat。　　Music。　　Queer；　what　you　could　do
  with　a　fiddle　if　you　knew　how。
  After　all　there　was　no　sense　in　venting　his　anger　on　Hawksley。　　He
  was　hoist　by　his　own　petard。　　Why　not　admit　the　truth？　　He　had　had
  a　crack　on　the　head　the　same　night　as　Hawksley；　only；　he　had