The thought of those two incomparable emeralds being broken up
distressed him profoundly. He must act at once, before the desecration
could be consummated. Two-Hawks--Hawksley hereafter, for the sake of
convenience--had an equity in the gems; but what of that? In smuggling
them in--and how the deuce had he done it?--he had thrown away his
legal right to them. Cutty kneaded his conscience into a satisfactory
condition of quiescence and went on with his planning. If he succeeded
in recovering the stones and his conscience bit a little too deeply
for comfort--why, he could pay over to Hawksley twenty per cent. of
the price Karlov demanded. He could take it or leave it. In a case like
this--to a bachelor without dependents--money was no object. All
his life he had wanted a fine emerald to play with, and here was an
opportunity to acquire two!

If this plan failed to draw Karlov into the open, then every jeweller
and pawnbroker in town would be notified and warned. What with the
secret-service operatives and the agents of the Department of Justice
on the watch for Karlov--who would recognize his limitations of
mobility--it was reasonable to assume that the Bolshevik would be only
too glad to dicker secretly for the disposal of the stones. Now to work.
Cutty looked at his watch.

Nearly midnight. Rather late, but he knew all the tricks of this
particular kind of game. If the advertisement appeared isolated, all the
better. The real job would be to hide his identity. He saw a way round
this difficulty. He wrote out six advertisements, all worded the same.
He figured out the cost and was delighted to find that he carried the
necessary currency. Then he got into his engineer's--dungarees, touched
up his face and hands to the required griminess, and sallied forth.

Luck attended him until he reached the last morning newspaper on the
list. Here he was obliged to proceed to the city room--risky business.
A queer advertisement coming into the city room late at night was always
pried into, as he knew from experience. Still, he felt that he ought not
to miss any chance to reach Karlov.

He explained his business to the sleepy gate boy, who carried the
advertisement and the cash to the night city editor's desk. Ordinarily
the night city editor would have returned the advertisement with the
crisp information that he had no authority to accept advertisements. But
the "drums of jeopardy" caught his attention; and he sent a keen
glanc