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A rare presence of mind on Carrick's part had prompted an instant application of the brakes which had undoubtedly prevented a collision although it had very nearly hurled him and his companion from their seats. The steed for a fraction of a second had been petrified with fear. Then it had reared violently, thrown its rider, and panic-stricken, had turned and fled in the direction of its coming.
"Straight ahead. The lady is unconscious again." This was true, for as they entered the car Carter had been just in time to catch the Lady Trusia in his arms as she toppled forward in a sudden return of the fainting spell. "Why not back to the inn, sir?" Carrick's suggestion betrayed that he shared his companion's concern for Her Grace of Schallberg. "I'd rather not.
At the mention of that secret, ubiquitous organization of Russian espionage, Carter realized that Carrick's prognostications had been correct. The cool insinuation made his blood boil. His answer came with the force of a blow. "What do you mean?" he thundered.
Cardross laughed gently over her embroidery; Malcourt, who was reading the stock column in the News, turned and looked curiously at Hamil, then at Shiela. Then catching Mrs. Carrick's eye: "Portlaw is rather worried over the market," he said. "I think he's going North in a day or two." "Why, Louis!" exclaimed Mrs. Cardross; "then you will be going, too, I suppose."
I cannot convince myself that his motives are entirely as disinterested as he has convinced Her Grace they are. There was something, too, about Carrick's story of his father's death that awakened my suspicions. That medal for instance." "You surely cannot mean " began Carter, fairly rising from his seat in his wild surmise.
It's just as well to have this sublime confidence. July 15, 1861. The quiet of midsummer reigns, but ripples of excitement break around us as the papers tell of skirmishes and attacks here and there in Virginia. "Rich Mountain" and "Carrick's Ford" were the last. "You see," said Mrs. D. at breakfast to-day, "my prophecy is coming true that Virginia will be the seat of war."
Upright on his bed he realised that somebody was knocking; and he slid to the floor, still stupid and scarcely convinced. "Mrs. Carrick's compliments, and is Mr. Hamil quite well bein' as the lights is burnin' an' past two o'clock, sir?" said the maid at the door. "Past two! O Lord! Please thank Mrs. Carrick, and say that I am going to do a little work, and that I am perfectly well."
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