Not desiring to become the butt of overheard personalities, Carter arose at this juncture, and, bowing to the trio, left the room. After his departure, the eyes of the first comers turned to Jackson, as one who had just felt the mettle of Carter's steel. The half smile which had been on Carter's face Jackson was perfectly willing to misinterpret.
"Gloating over our downfall," he remarked with reference to the day's happenings on the Street.
"Not that kind of fellow," replied Saunderson, coming to the defense of the absent. "You were caught dancing; he simply made you pay the piper."
"He's hard as nails," retorted Jackson, gloomily; "not a particle of sentiment in him."
"Look here, Jackson," said Langdon at this juncture, "you are dead wrong there. Carter's record is different. He went out to Cuba for what we discount nowadays—patriotism. While there he picked up a poor devil of a Cockney and made more of a man of him than the fellow had ever dreamed of becoming. Literally picked him out of the gutter—drunk. That man of his,—Carrick,—I think that's his name."
"Right," assented Saunderson. "Then look what he did for Marian Griggs when Jack's western bubble burst carrying her fortune with it. Jack blew his brains out, leaving her and the kids sky high. Though they had absolutely no claim on him other than disinterested friendship, Cal, in the most delicate manner in the world, fixed things so that they should never want. The girl told me herself. Sentiment? Why, man, he's chock full of it. He's the sort that, when he hears of this coming scrap in Krovitch, will throw himself body and soul into it, as his forbears have done from Marston Moor to date, just because it's likely to be a lost cause. He's always for the under dog—and I honor him for it. I'm willing to bet he'll go to Krovitch when he hears."
"A thousand?" inquired Jackson with speculative ardor. Saunderson narrowed his eyes, as he looked judiciously at the broker. He flicked the ash from his cigarette before replying.
"Too much. What's the use?" he said. "Make it even money at a hundred and I'll go you. On any other man I'd ask odds. With Carter, though, when it comes to war, to women, or to any one needing help, he's right there with the goods. He's in a class by himself. Do you take the bet?"
"Certainly," answered Jackson as he handed the money over to Langdon as stakeholder. "Word of honor, Billy, that you will not urge him on?"
"Word of honor, Jackson. Keep your hands off, too." The two shook hands gravely, while Langdon made a memorandum of the wager.