Part 16 (2/2)

Then, when the race was over and the roar had subsided, Martin came hurrying back, and one glance at his face told them that there was no need for anxiety.

”He is laughing in there over a gla.s.s of cognac. He refuses absolutely to go home, and he wants me to help him up the stairs. He will sit under the awning, he says. And we are to go back to the grand-stand,” Martin said, as he approached.

”See,” he added, pointing to the paddock where the crowd was hurrying to gather round the winning horse. ”See, it is already a thing of the past.

And he wants it to be so. He wants no fuss made about it. It is no good advertising the fact of the existence of a dog with a bad name, eh?

Thank you all the same, Cartoner, for your good offices. You and Deulin, they say, averted a catastrophe. The incident is over, my dear Wanda. It is forgotten by all except us. Wait here a minute and I will come back to you.”

With a nod to Cartoner, as if to say, ”I leave her to your care,” he turned and left them again.

Then at length Wanda spoke.

”You see,” she said, ”you are not so strong as--”

”As what?” he asked, seeing that she sought a word.

”As Fate, I suppose,” she answered, and her eyes were grave as she looked across the mournful level land towards the west, where the sun was sinking below parallel bars of cloud to the straight line of the horizon. Sunset over a plain is one of nature's tragic moments.

”Is it Fate?” she asked, with a sudden change of manner.

”Even Fate can be hampered in its movements, princess,” answered Cartoner.

”By what?”

”By action. I have written for my recall.”

He was looking towards the pavilion. It seemed that it was he, and not his companion, who was now anxious for Martin to return. Wanda was still looking across the course towards the sinking sun.

”You have asked to be recalled from Warsaw?” she said.

”Yes.”

”Then,” she said, after a pause, ”it would have been better for you if we had not met at Lady Orlay's, in London. Monsieur Deulin once said that you had never had a check in your career. This is the first check.

And it has come through--knowing us.”

Cartoner made no answer, but stood watching the door of the pavilion with patient, thoughtful eyes.

”You cannot deny it,” she said.

And he did not deny it.

Then she turned her head, and looked at him with clever, speculative keenness.

”Why have you asked for your recall?” she asked, slowly.

And still Cartoner made no answer. He was without rival in the art of leaving things unsaid. Then Martin came to them, laughing and talking.

And across the course, amid the tag-rag and bobtail of Warsaw, the eyes of the man called Kosmaroff watched their every movement.

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