Before he had reached the corner, the subject of this speculation had forgotten, for the nonce, all about Krovitch and her troubles. His wearied mind—like a recalcitrant hunter at a stiffish fence—had thrown off the idea as too much weight to carry. A week later he was to be reminded of the episode at the club. Its effects led him far afield into a tale of romance, intrigue, war and women. Intrigue, war and women are inseparable.
II
"STRANGE COUNTREES FOR TO SEE"
In the soul of Calvert Carter arose a vague unrest. A voiceless summons bade him, with every April stir of wind, to shake off the tale of common things and match his manhood and keen intelligence in Nature's conflict, the battle of the male. Six years past had found him in Cuba. In that brief campaign against Spain, his entire military career, each day so crowded with anticipation or actual battle, had been laid the foundation for this wanderlieb; this growing appetite for excitement and hazard. Occasional trips to Europe and even forays after big game had failed to satisfy him. Without realizing it, his was the aboriginal's longing for war,—primitive savage against primitive savage, and—his life lacked a woman.
He paced about his library as in a cage.
He strove desperately to understand the elusive impulse which urged him to go forth running, head up, pulses flaming; on, on, out of the reeking city to the cool, clean woods; on, on, to the heart of the world where all brutes and mankind strove in one titanic fight for supremacy. Conventions held him fast. He must go somewhere, however. Where? Was there in Old or New World an unbeaten track his feet had not trodden, a chance for adventure—man-strife? Manchuria! It would not do. His was not the mood for the porcelain, perfect politeness of Nippon. He was no beast to revel in the stupid orgies of the Slav!
The door opened and Carrick entered. It was not the Carrick of yesterday, but one who, though unable to eradicate all the traces of his earlier environments, had nevertheless succeeded in achieving externally and mentally a much higher plane than that on which Carter first found him. When he spoke, seeing his master was in some perplexity, there still lingered in his accent the unmistakable evidence of his Whitechapel origin.
"What is it, sir?"
Carter turned to him with a troubled countenance.