"June second," came the quiet reply.
"And to-day is——"
"July seventeenth."
"What has become of them?" he groaned. "What can they think of me? A messenger boy, nurse, at once. Are you paralyzed?"
XXVIII
A RE-UNION
Four short months before, Carter and Carrick had set out for Krovitch. It did not seem possible that so many conclusive, completed events could have transpired in that limited time. It seemed more like some whirlwind dream to the man who, pale and wan, sat in the reading-room of the Racquet Club gazing indolently at the passing throng outside the club windows. It was Calvert Carter, of course, who so reasoned.
Carrick was dead, he continued in his reflections. Of a certainty this had been a grievous blow, but even this was overshadowed by the doubt as to the whereabouts of his beloved Trusia.