As a matter of fact, one of the three men in the taxi recognized
Kitty, but too late to intercept her. Her manoeuvre had confused him
temporarily. And while he and his companions were debating, Kitty had
time to summon Cutty's man from Elevator Four.
"Step into the car!" he roughly ordered, after she had given him a gist
of her suspicions. He turned off the lights, stepped out, and shut the
gates with a furious bang. "And stick to the corner! I'll attend to the
other fool."
He rushed into the street, his automatic ready, eyed the taxicab
speculatively, wheeled suddenly, and ran south at a dog-trot. He rounded
the south corner, but he did not see Hawksley anywhere. The dog-trot
became a dead run. As he wheeled round the corner of the parallel street
he almost bumped into Hawksley, who had a policeman in tow.
"Officer," said the man with the boy's face, "this is Federal business.
Aliens. Come along. There may be trouble. If there should be any
shooting don't bother with the atmosphere. Pick out a real target."
"Anarchists?"
"About the size of it."
"Miss Conover?" asked Hawksley.
"Safe. No thanks to you, though. I'd like to knock your block off, if
you want to know!"
"Do it! Damned little use to me," declared Hawksley, sagging.
"Here, what's the matter with you?" cried the policeman, throwing his
arm round Hawksley.
"They nearly killed him a few days gone. A crack on the bean; but he
wasn't satisfied. Help him along. I'll be hiking back."
But the taxicab was gone.
Before Cutty's lieutenant opened the gate to the apartment he spoke to
Hawksley. "The boss is doing everything he can to put you through, sir.
Miss Conover's wit saved you. For if you hadn't separated they'd have
nailed you. I've been running round like a chicken with its head cut
off. I forgot that door on the seventeenth floor. I tell you honestly,
you've been playing with death. It wasn't fair to Miss Conover."
"It was my fault," volunteered Kitty.
"Mine," protested Hawksley.
"Well, they know where you roost now, for a fact. You've spilled the
beans. I'm sorry I lost my temper. The devil fly away with you both!"
The boy laughed. "You're game, anyhow. But darn it all, if anything had
happened to you the boss would never have forgiven me. He's the whitest
old scout God ever put the breath of life into. He's always doing
something for somebody. He'd give you the block if you had the gall to
ask for it. Play the game fifty-fifty with him and you'll land on both
feet. And you, Miss Conover, must not come here again."