A greater thrill possessed him than the thrill of his hunt
for Black Roger Audemard. Black Roger was a murderer, a wholesale
murderer and a fiend, a Moloch for whom there could be no pity. Of
all men the Law wanted Black Roger most, and he, David Carrigan,
was the chosen one to consummate its desire. Yet in spite of that
he felt upon him the strange unrest of a greater adventure than
the quest for Black Roger. It was like an impending thing that
could not be seen, urging him, rousing his faculties from the
slough into which they had fallen because of his wound and
sickness. It was, after all, the most vital of all things, a
matter of his own life. Jeanne Marie-Anne Boulain had tried to
kill him deliberately, with malice and intent. That she had saved
him afterward only added to the necessity of an explanation, and
he was determined that he would have that explanation and settle
the present matter before he allowed another thought of Black
Roger to enter his head.
This resolution reiterated itself in his mind as the machine-like
voice of duty. He was not thinking of the Law, and yet the
consciousness of his accountability to that Law kept repeating
itself.
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