n every state capitol in the country: 'Men
Wanted--Specialists.' A steel man from Pittsburgh, a mining man from
Idaho, a shipowner from Boston, a meat packer from Omaha, a grain man
from Chicago. What the devil do lawyers know about these things--the
energies that make the wheels of this country go round? By the way,
that Miss Conover was a remarkably pretty girl. She seemed to be a bit
suspicious of me."

"Good reasons. That chap went to Gregor's--Gregor is his name--and was
beaten, robbed, and left for dead. She saved his life."

"Good Lord! Does she know?"

"No. And what's more, I don't want her to. I am practically her
guardian."

"Then you ought to get her out of that roost."

"Hang it, I can't get her to leave. I'm not legally her guardian;
self-appointed. But she has agreed to leave in May."

"I'm glad you dropped in. Command me in any way you please."

"That's very good of you, considering."

"The war is over. We'd be a fine pair of fools to let an ancient
grudge go on. They tell me you've a wonderful apartment on top of that
skyscraper of yours."

"Will you come to dinner some night?"

"Any time you say. I should like to bring my daughter."

"She doesn't know?"

"No. Heard of Hawksley; thinks he's English."

"I am certainly agreeable." This would be a distinct advantage to Kitty.
"I see you have a good book there. I'll take myself off."

In the Avenue Cutty loaded his pipe. He struck a match on the
flagstone and cupped it over the bowl of his pipe, thereby throwing his
picturesque countenance into ruddy relief. Opposite emotions filled
the hearts of the two men watching him--in one, chagrin; in the other,
exultation.

Cutty decided to walk downtown, the night being fine. He set his foot
to a long, swinging stride. An elephant on his hands, truly. Poor devil,
for a fad! Nobody wanted him, not even those who wished him well. Wanted
to become an American citizen. He would have been tolerably safe in
England. Here he would never be free of danger. A ranch. The beggar
would have a chance out there in the West. The anarchist and the
Bolshevik were town cooties. His one chance, actually. The poor devil!
Kitty had the right idea. It was a mighty fine thing, these times, to be
a citizen under the protection of the American doctrine.

Three hundred thousand! And Karlov had got that along with the drums.
The devil's own for luck! The fool would be able to start some fine
ructions with all that capital