The telephone saved Nancy the rest of the man’s rendering of his account and she breathed deeply her relief.  But the interruption was by no means welcome to the man.  And his irritation was promptly displayed by the vindictive “Well?” he flung at the unyielding receiver.

“Oh!  What’s that?  Who?  Hellbeam?  Oh.  Sure.  Yes.  Send him right up.  Don’t keep him waiting.  Right up now.  Yes.”

He thrust up the instrument and sat back in his chair.

“Curse the man!”

Nancy had risen from her chair at the mention of Hellbeam’s name.  She was glad enough of the excuse.  She understood Hellbeam was the great outstanding figure in the concern of the Skandinavia.  His was the one personality that dwarfed everybody.  He was the moving power of the whole concern.

“You’ll let me know later?” she said.  “I mean, just when I’m to start out.  I’m ready when you like.  I’ll just go and see why those reports have not been sent up.”

“Oh, don’t worry with the reports.  You’ve told me the things that matter.”

The man’s irritation was as swift as it was violent.  But it passed as quickly as it came.  He laughed.

“That’s all right, my dear.  Be off now.  I’ll let you know about things this afternoon.”

Nancy gladly accepted her dismissal.  She wanted to think.  She wanted to get things into their proper focus.  As she closed the door behind her her beautiful eyes had no joy in them.  She had realised two things as a result of her interview.  The opportunity she had looked forward to had materialised, and she had seized it with both hands.  But the goodness of Elas Peterman to herself possessed none of that disinterested kindliness she had hitherto believed.  Furthermore, there was dawning upon her that which her mirror should have told her long ago.  She was beginning to understand that her work, her capacity, her application, counted far less in the favour of her chief than did those things with which nature had equipped her.  She was shocked out of her youthful dream.  And it left her so troubled, that, had she not been passing down the carpeted corridor of the Skandinavia offices, she would have burst into a flood of tears.

* * * * *

It was a different Elas Peterman who confronted the squat figure of Nathaniel Hellbeam.  The master in the younger man was completely submerged.  He possessed all the Teutonic capacity for self-abnegation in the presence of the power it is necessary to woo.  There was only one master when the great financier was present.  Elas Peterman knew that his part was to listen and obey with just that humility which he would have demanded had the position been reversed.

Another type than Hellbeam’s would have despised the attitude.  But the financier had no scruple.  Nature had denied him qualities for inspiring affectionate regard, or even respect.  But she had bestowed on him a lust for power, and a great vanity, and these he satisfied to the uttermost.