Human frailty. The most accomplished human being is the finished liar.
Never to forget a detail, to remember step by step the windings, over a
ticklish road. And Cutty, for all his wide newspaper experience, was a
poor liar because he had been brought up on facts. Perhaps his lie might
have passed had he not been so fagged. The physical labours of the night
had dulled his perceptions.
"Ab, but that tastes good!"--as he blew forth a wavering ring of smoke.
"It ought to have at least one merit," replied Kitty, wrinkling her
nose. What a fine profile Cutty had! "Now, who and what is he? I'm dying
to know."
"An odd story; probably hundreds like it. You see, the Bolsheviki have
driven out of the country or killed all the nobles and bourgeoisie. Some
of them have escaped--into China, Sweden, India, wherever they could
find an open route. To his story there are many loose ends, and Hawksley
is not the talking kind. You mustn't repeat what I tell you. Hawksley,
with all that money and a forged English passport, would have a good
deal of trouble explaining if he ran afoul the police. There is no real
proof that the money is his or Gregor's. As a matter of fact, it is
Gregor's, and Hawksley was bringing it to him. Hawksley is Gregor's
protege."
Kitty nodded. This dovetailed with what Johnny Two-Hawks had told her
that night.
"How the two came together originally I don't know. Gregor was in his
younger days a great violinist, but unknown to the American public.
Early in his career he speculated with his concert earnings and turned
a pot of money. He dropped the professional career for that of a
country gentleman. He had a handsome estate, and lived sensibly. He sent
Hawksley to England to school and spent a good deal of time there with
him, teaching him how to play the fiddle, for which it seems Hawksley
had a natural bent. He had to Anglicize his name; for Two-Hawks would
have made people laugh. To be a gentleman, Kitty, one does not have to
be a prince or a grand duke. Gregor was a polished gentleman, and he
turned Hawksley into one."
Again Kitty nodded, her eyes sparkling.
"The Russ--the educated Russ--is a queer biscuit. Got to have a finger
in some political pie, and political pies in Russia before the war were
lese-majesty. The result--Gregor got in wrong with his secret society
and the political police and was forced to fly to save his life. But
before he fled he had all his convertible funds transferred. Only his
estate was confiscated. Hawksley was in London when the war broke out.
There was a lot of red tape, naturally, regarding the funds. I shan't
bother you with that, Hawksley, hoping to better his protector's future,
returned to Russia and joined his regiment and fought until the Czar
abdicated. Foretasting the trend of events, he tried to get back to
England, but that was impossible. He was permitted to retire to the
Gregor estate, where he remained until the uprising of the Bolsheviki.
Then he started across the world to join Gregor."