Lethargy, or malaria, or both, whatever were
his ailments, they were gone. He was six feet of hot wrath and cold
resolution.
Tom said: "You are going?"
"Yes," he answered, "I am going."
"Then I will go with you."
"Thank you, Tom," said the other quietly.
Meredith ran into his own room, pressed an electric button, sprang out of
his pyjamas like Aphrodite from the white sea-foam, and began to dive into
his clothes with a panting rapidity astonishingly foreign to his desire.
Jim appeared in the doorway.
"The cart, Jim," shouted his master. "We want it like lightning. Tell the
cook to give Mr. Harkless his breakfast in a hurry. Set a cup of coffee on
the table by the front door for me. Run like the deuce! We've got to catch
a train.--That will be quicker than any cab," he explained to Harkless.
"We'll break the ordinance against fast driving, getting down there."
Ten minutes later the cart swept away from the house at a gait which
pained the respectable neighborhood. The big horse plunged through the
air, his ears laid flat toward his tail; the cart careened sickeningly;
the face of the servant clutching at the rail in the rear was smeared with
pallor as they pirouetted around curves on one wheel--to him it seemed
they skirted the corners and Death simultaneously--and the speed of their
going made a strong wind in their faces.
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