He was interested in socialism and its bewildering ramifications,
but only as an analytical student. He could fit himself into any
environment, interview a prime minister in the afternoon and take
potluck that night with the anarchist who was planning to blow up the
prime minister.
Burlingame, an intimate, often exposed for Kitty's delectation the
amazing and colourful facets of Cutty's diamond-brilliant mind. Cutty
wrote authoritatively on famous gems and collected drums. He had one
of the finest collections of chrysoprase in the world. He loved
these semi-precious stones because of their unmatchable, translucent
green--like the pulp of a grape. From Burlingame Kitty had learned
that Cutty, rather indifferent to women, carried about with him the
photographs--large size--of famous professional beauties and a case
filled with polished chrysoprase. He would lay a photograph on a table
and adorn the lovely throat with astonishing necklaces and the head with
wonderful tiaras, all the while his brain at work with some intricate
political puzzle.
And he collected drums. The walls of his apartment--part of the loft of
a midtown office building--were covered with a most startling assortment
of drums: drums of war, of the dance, of the temples of the feast,
ancient and modern, some of them dreadful looking objects, as Kitty had
cause to remember.
Though Cutty had known her father and mother intimately, Kitty was a
comparative stranger. He recollected seeing her perhaps a dozen times.
She had been a shy child, not given to climbing over visitors' knees;
not the precocious offspring of the average theatrical mother. So in
the past he had somewhat overlooked her. Then one day recently he had
dropped in to see Burlingame and had seen Kitty instead; which accounts
for his presence here this day. Neither Kitty nor Burlingame suspected
the true attraction. The dramatic editor accepted the advent as a
peculiar compliment to himself. And it is to be doubted if Cutty himself
realized that there was a true magnetic pole in this cubbyhole of a
room.
Kitty, however, had vivid recollections. Actually the first strange man
she had ever met. But not having been visible on her horizon, except in
flashes, she knew of the man only what she had read and what Burlingame
had casually offered during discussions.
"Well, anyhow," said Burlingame, complacently, "the war is over."
Cutty smiled indulgently. "That's the trouble with us chaps who tramp
round the world for news. We can't bamboozle ourselves like you folks
who stay at home. The war was only the first phase. There's a mess over
there; wanting something and not knowing exactly what, those millions;
milling cattle, with neither shed nor pasture. The Lord only knows how
long it will take to clarify. Would you mind if I smoked?"