Not unusually, when we burn our bridges, we have in the back of our minds the dim hope that there may be a shallow ford somewhere. Thus, bridges should not be burned impulsively; there may be no ford.
The idea of retreat pushed forward in Kitty's mind the moment she awoke; but she pressed it back in shame. She had given her word, and she would stand by it.
The night had been a series of wild impulses. She had not sent that telegram to Cutty as the result of her deliberations in the country.
Impulse; a flash, and the thing was done, her bridges burned. To crush Johnny Two-Hawks, fill his cup with chagrin, she had told him she was going to marry Cutty. That was the milk in the cocoanut.
Morning has a way of showing up night-gold for what it is - tinsel.
Kitty saw the stage of last night's drama dismantled. If there was a shallow ford, she would never lower her pride to seek it. She had told Two-Hawks, sent that wire to Cutty, broke the news to Bernini.
But did she really want to go back? Not to know her own mind, to swing back and forth like a pendulum! Was it because she feared that, having married Cutty, she might actually fall in love with some other man later? She could still go through the mummery as Cutty had planned; but what about all the sublime generosity of the preceding night?
A queer feeling pervaded her: She was a marionette, a human manikin, and some invisible hand was pulling the wires that made her do all these absurd things. Her own mind no longer controlled her actions. The persistence of that waltz! It had haunted her, broken into her dreams, awakened her out of them. Why should she be afraid? What was there to be afraid of in a recurring melody?
She had heard a dozen famed violinists play it. It had never before affected her beyond a flash of emotionalism. Perhaps it was the romantic misfortune of the man, the mystery surrounding him, the menace which walled him in.
Breakfast. Human manikins had appetites. So she made her breakfast. Before leaving the kitchen she stopped at the window.
The sun filled the court with brilliant light. The patches of rust on the fire-escape ladder, which was on the Gregor side of the platform, had the semblance of powdered gold.
Half an hour later she was speeding downtown to the office. All through the day she walked, worked, talked as one in the state of trance. There were periods of stupefaction which at length roused Burlingame's curiosity.
"Kitty, what's the matter with you? You look dazed about something."
"How do you clean a pipe?" she countered, irrelevantly.
"Clean a pipe?" he repeated, nearly overbalancing his chair.
"Yes. You see, I may make up my mind to marry a man who smokes a pipe," said Kitty, desperately, eager to steer Burlingame into another channel; "and certainly I ought to know how to clean one."
"Kitty, I'm an old-timer. You can't sidetrack me like this.
Something has happened. You say you had a great time in the country, and you come in as pale as the moon, like someone suffering from shell shock. Ever since Cutty came in here that day you've been acting oddly. You may not know it, but Cutty asked me to send you out of town. You've been in some kind of danger. What's the yarn?"
"So big that no newspaper will ever publish it, Burly. If Cutty wants to tell you some day he can. I haven't the right to."
"Did he drag you into it or did you fall into it?"
"I walked into it, as presently I shall walk out of it - all on my own.
"Better keep your eyes open. Cutty's a stormy petrel; when he flies there's rough weather."
"What do you know about him?"
"Probably what he has already told you - that he is a foreign agent of the Government. What do you know?"
"Everything but one thing, and that's a problem particularly my own."
"Alien stuff, I suppose. Cutty's strong on that. Well, mind your step. The boys are bringing in queer scraps about something big going to happen May Day - no facts, just rumours. Better shoot for home the shortest route each night and stick round there."
There are certain spiritual exhilarants that nullify caution, warning the presence of danger. The boy with his first pay envelope, the lover who has just been accepted, the debutante on the way to her first ball; the impetus that urges us to rush in where angels fear to tread.
At a quarter after five Kitty left the office for home, unaware that the attribute designated as caution had evaporated from her system.
She proceeded toward the Subway mechanically, the result of habit.
Casually she noted two taxicabs standing near the Subway entrance.
That she noted them at all was due to the fact that Subway entrances were not fortuitous hunting grounds for taxicabs. Only the unusual would have attracted her in her present condition of mind. It takes time and patience to weave a good web - observe any spider - time in finding a suitable place for it; patience in the spinning. All that worried Karlov was the possibility of her not observing him. If he could place his taxicabs where they would attract her, even casually, the main difficulty would be out of the way. The moment she turned her head toward the cabs he would step out into plain view. The girl was susceptible and adventuresome.
Kitty saw a man step out of the foremost taxicab, give some instructions to the chauffeur, and get back into the cab, immediately to be driven off at moderate speed. She recognized the man at once. Never would she forget that squat, gorilla-like body.
Karlov! Yonder, in that cab! She ran to the remaining cab; wherein she differed from angels.
"Are you free?"
"Yes, miss."
"See that taxi going across town? Follow it and I will give you ten extra fare."
"You're on, miss."
Karlov peered through the rear window of his cab. If she had in tow a Federal agent the manoeuvre would fail, at a great risk to himself. But he would soon be able to tell whether or not she was being followed.
