“Why, we were sitting on deck, and it was storming.  It was just terrible.  We lurched heavily and shipped a great sea.  Our chairs were flung into the scuppers by the rush of water, and I—­why, I guess I was beaten unconscious and drowning when he got hold of me.  He just fought his way to safety.  I didn’t know about it till I was safe down in the saloon.  I woke up then, and he was carrying me—­”

“Sternford?”

The change in the man’s eyes had deepened.  Then his smile came back to them.  But that, too, was different.  It was curiously fixed and hard.

“You’ve gone a bit too fast for me,” he said.  “I don’t get things right.  Sternford, the man running Sachigo was with you on the Myra?  He’s here—­in Quebec?”

It was Nancy’s great moment.

“Yes,” she said, with a restraint that failed to disguise her feelings.  “He’s come down to discuss a business arrangement between the Skandinavia and his enterprise.  That’s what you wanted—­isn’t it?”

The man leant forward in his chair.  He set his elbows on the desk and supported his chin in both hands.  His smile was still there, and his eyes were steadily regarding her.  But they expressed none of the surprise and delight Nancy looked for.  They were smiling as he literally forced them to smile.

“You brought him down with you—­to meet us?” he asked slowly.

The girl nodded.

“You did your work so well that he entertained the notion sufficiently to come along down—­with you?”

“I—­I—­he’s come down for that purpose.”

The man’s eyes were searching.

“Where is he?”

“At the Chateau.  He’s waiting to hear from you for an appointment.”

Peterman flung himself back in his chair with a great laugh.  Nancy missed the mirthless tone of it.

“Say, my dear,” he cried at last.  “How did you do it?  How in—­You’re just as bright and smart as I reckoned.  You’ve done one big thing and I guess you’ve earned all the Skandinavia can hand you.  But—­”

He broke off, and his gaze drifted away from the face with its vivid halo.  The wintry daylight beyond the window claimed him, and Nancy waited.

“How did you persuade him to ship down on the Myra with you?” he asked, after a moment’s thought.

“I didn’t persuade him.  He volunteered.”

“Volunteered?”

“Yes.  He was coming down on her next trip.  You see, he’s making England right away.  He guessed he’d come along down with me instead.  He seemed keen set to discuss this thing with you.”

“I see.  Keen set, eh?  Keen set to talk with me?”

The man shook his head.  It was not denial.  It was the questioning of something left unspoken.

The girl became anxious.  Somehow a sense of disappointment was stirring.

“Is there anything wrong?” she asked at last, as the man remained silent.

Peterman shook his head again.