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She suddenly knew in advance what would happen, as it is often vouchsafed to the human understanding to know at a moment's notice what is coming; and she had a strange, discomforting sense that these minutes were preordained that Martin and Cartoner and herself were mere puppets in the hands of Fate, and must say and do that which has been assigned to them in an unalterable scheme of succeeding events.
"No doubt you will get experience in course of time," said Mr. Mangles, with his deep, curt laugh. "No, sir, my sister is a lecturer. She gets on platforms and talks." "What about?" asked Cartoner. Mr. Mangles described the wide world, with a graceful wave of his cigar. "About most things," he answered, gravely; "chiefly about women, I take it.
She had never met a man who conveyed the impression of purpose and of the habit of going straight towards his purpose so clearly as this. Cartoner had not come to pay an idle visit. She wondered why he had come. He did not rush into conversation, and yet his silence had no sense of embarrassment in it. His hair was turning gray above the temples.
Martin and I looked out of our nursery window on April 8, 1861, and saw what was done on that day. My father was in the streets. And ever since we have been accustomed to unsettled times." "I know," said Cartoner, "what it is to be a Bukaty." And he smiled slowly as she looked at him with gray, fearless eyes. Then suddenly her manner, in a flash, was different.
"That is the only thing to be done," said Cartoner. Kosmaroff glanced towards the bed. "Yes," he said, "that will do. He will lay quiet enough there." And all three, perhaps, thought of all that they were to bury beneath the sea with this last of the Bukatys. Captain Cable was the first to move. He turned and glanced at the clock.
Two days after the meeting at the Mokotow the morning following the visit paid by Wanda to the Hotel de l'Europe Cartoner was early astir. He drove to the railway station in time to catch the half-past eight train, and knowing the ways of the country, he took care to arrive at ten minutes past eight.
Deulin had been glancing at the clock for some time, and, suspiciously soon after learning that they were not to see Netty again, he announced with regret that he had letters to write, and must take his leave. Cartoner made no excuse, but departed at the same time. "I will come down to the door with you," said Deulin, in the passage.
A few minutes later Cartoner stood on the deck of the Minnie, and banged with his fist on the cover of the cabin gangway, which was tantamount to ringing at Captain Cable's front door. The sailor's grim face appeared a moment later, emerging like the face of a hermit-crab from its shell. The frown slowly faded, and the deep, unwashed wrinkles took a kindlier curve. "It's you, Mr.
"According to my lights, I was," admitted Cartoner. Martin laughed again. It is a gay heart that can be amused at three in the morning. "The truth is," continued Martin, in his quick and rather heedless way, "that we Poles are under a cloud in Europe now. We are the wounded man by the side of the road from Jerusalem down to Jericho, and there is a tendency to pass by on the other side.
He waited for an answer, and at length Cartoner spoke. "She did not know that I was coming," he said. The Vistula is the backbone of Poland, and, from its source in the Carpathians to its mouth at Dantzic, runs the whole length of that which for three hundred years was the leading power of eastern Europe.
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