he doubtful content
of comfort was suddenly not enough. The spirit of the road and of
the chase was in his veins, and he was aglow with "the taste for
pilgriming." He looked about on the simple luxury with which he had
surrounded himself, and he welcomed his farewell to it. And when
Rollo had gone up stairs to complain in person of the shad-roe, St.
George spoke aloud:

"If Miss Holland sails for Yaque to-morrow on the prince's
submarine," he said, "_The Aloha_ and I will follow her."

CHAPTER VI

TWO LITTLE MEN

Next morning St. George was early astir. He had slept little and his
dreams had been grotesques. He threw up his blind and looked across
buildings to the grey park. The sky was marked with rose, the still
reservoir gave back colour upon its breast, and the tower upon its
margin might have been some guttural-christened castle on the Rhine.
St. George drew a deep breath of good, new air and smiled for the
sake of the things that the day was to bring him. He was in the
golden age when the youthful expectation of enjoyment is just
beginning to be savoured by the inevitable longing for more light,
and he seemed to himself to be alluringly near the verge of both.

His first care the evening before had been to hunt out
Chillingworth. He had found him in a theatre and had got him out to
the foyer and kept him through the third act, pouring in his ears as
much as he felt that it was well for him to know. Chillingworth had
drawn his square, brown hands through his hair and, in lieu of
copy-paper, had nibbled away his programme and paced the corner by
the cloak-room.

"It looks like a great big thing," said the city editor; "don't you
think it looks like a great big thing?"

"Extraordinarily so," assented St. George, watching him.

"Can you handle it alone, do you think?" Chillingworth demanded.

"Ah, well now, that depends," replied St. George. "I'll see it
through, if it takes me to Yaque. But I'd like you to promise, Mr.
Chillingworth, that you won't turn Crass loose at it while I'm gone,
with his feverish head-lines. Mrs. Hastings and her niece must be
spared that, at all events."

"Don't you be a sentimental idiot," snapped Chillingworth, "and
spoil the biggest city story the paper ever had. Why, this may draw
the whole United States into a row, and mean war and a new
possession and maybe consulates and governorships and one thing or
another for the whole staff. St. George, don't spoil the sport