The fever of fighting had entered into his blood, and he was longing to come to close quarters with the enemy. In fact he was looking forward to the meeting at which he was to be the chief speaker, and was determined that he would not mince matters, but would state the truth, brutally and forcibly.
Lady Mildred’s complaint was a just one, for blows would be dealt unscrupulously and there was plenty of ammunition for the enemy in his past. It was quite clear to Gaunt that the Congo officials in Brussels would show no mercy, and would use any weapon that came to hand; perhaps it was this knowledge that made him eager for the fray.
The love of a fight was born in the man, and his eyes sparkled as he thought of the coming contest. For the moment the vow was forgotten and ceased to be the motive that guided him.
Gaunt and Edward Drake dined alone, and the latter spoke but little during the meal.
“Did Lady Mildred tell you of an unfortunate occurrence this afternoon?” he asked at last.
“She mentioned that she had overheard some one make remarks about myself that were the reverse of complimentary. Tell me the details,” Gaunt said with a smile, and he listened quietly to Drake’s accurate description of what had happened.
“There is a certain amount of truth in what the man said, but I can imagine that my wife was annoyed. I fear that she will have to get used to listening to much worse things than that,” Gaunt answered drily.
“It is a pity. Don’t you think she might go abroad for a while with Lady Ethel?” Drake suggested nervously.
“She wouldn’t go and I think that she would prefer to be in England.”
“By the bye, she asked me the reason of the recent change in you, and——”