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Words: 57651 in 31 pages
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"STRANGE COUNTREES FOR TO SEE"
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.
"Carrick," he said, "do you ever feel as if you wanted to be back on the fighting line?"
The fellow smiled guiltily.
"Yes, Mr. Carter, when I 'ave the go-fever as I call it! Then you see," he explained apologetically, "I was allus a sort of a tramp before you took 'old of me, sir. Don't think it's because the plyce don't suit--no man ever 'ad a better, thanks to you. Sometimes I think, though, as 'ow all men get the feelin' in spells. Do you ever feel that wye?"
"I'm chock full of it now, Carrick. I must get away from the manacles of cities. Hand me that atlas--I'll study the map of Europe again. Thanks. This is about the tenth time." Carter bent over the plotted page anxiously while his man stood at his elbow.
"Germany won't do," said Calvert. "I hate the very sight of a wasp-waisted, self-sufficient Prussian subaltern. They're everywhere. Imperial arrogance seems to pervade even their beer gardens." His voice trailed off into silence again, as in a preoccupied manner his finger wandered over the map. It stopped suddenly as he leaned closer to study the pink plot on which it rested. "Krovitch; Krovitch!" he muttered, "now where the devil have I heard of Krovitch? Russian province it seems but that doesn't give me any clue. I'm stuck, Carrick," he said with a frank laugh as he looked up to meet the man's responsive smile.
"Can I 'elp you, sir?" He leaned over Carter's shoulder.
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