attempted to transfer them to paper. A secret society? Vengeance? An echo of the war?
"Johnny Two-Hawks," she murmured aloud. "And he hopes we'll never meet again!"
There was a mirror over the sink, and she threw a glance into it. Very well; if he thought like that about it.
Here the doorbell tinkled. That would be the faithful janitor. She ran to the door.
"Whadjuh wanta see me about, Miz Conover?"
"What has happened to old Mr. Gregory?"
"Him? Why, some amb'lance fellers carted him off this afternoon. Didn't know nawthin' was the matter with 'im until I runs into them in the hall."
"He'd been hurt?"
"Couldn't say, miz. He was on a stretcher when I seen 'im. Under a sheet."
"But he might have been dead!"
"Nope. I ast 'em, an' they said a shock of some sort."
"What hospital?"
"Gee, I forgot fast that!"
"I'll find out. Good-night."
But Kitty did not find out. She called up all the known private and public hospitals, but no Gregor or Gregory had been received that afternoon, nor anybody answering his description. The fog had swallowed up Stefani Gregor.
