“Ach no!” Hellbeam shook his head in violent protest.  “You write—­no.  You have your confidential man, yes?  You send him.  I give you the outline of terms.  I give you alternative terms.  Big terms.  He will go.  He will talk.  He will hear.  Then we will later come to terms.  All men will sell—­on terms.  Your man.  Where is he?  I must see him.  Then the Board.  It meets.  I will address it.  I show them how this thing will serve.”

“That’s all right, sir,” Elas was smiling.  “You couldn’t offer the Board a more welcome proposition than the purchase of Sachigo just now.  We’re changing our forest organisation right now, and that means temporary delays and drop in output.  Sachigo’s our worry while we’re doing it.  But with your permission I won’t send a man up there.  I think,” he added deliberately, “I’d like to send a—­woman.”

Hellbeam’s face was a study.  His little eyes opened to their widest extent.  His heavy lips parted, and he snatched his cigar into the safety of his white fingers.

“A—­woman—­for this thing?  You crazy are!”

There was no restraint or pretence of restraint.  The other’s smile was more confident than might have been expected before such an intolerant outburst.

“Guess a woman has her limitations, sir.  Maybe this one hasn’t a wide experience.  But she’s clever.  She’s loyal to us, and she’s got that which counts a whole heap when it comes to getting a man on her side.  You reckon to buy Sachigo.  If you send a man to deal he’ll get short shrift.  If there’s anyone to put through this deal for Skandinavia it’s the woman I’m thinking of.  And she’ll put it through because she’s the woman she is, and not because of any talents.  Your pardon, sir, if I speak frankly.  But from all I know of Sachigo, if you—­perhaps the king of financiers on this continent—­went to these folk and offered them double what their enterprise is worth, I guess they’d chase you out of Labrador so quick you wouldn’t have time to think the blasphemy suitable to the occasion.”

Peterman’s explanation caught the humour of his countryman.  The bulk of the visitor shook under a suppressed laugh.

“Well,” he retorted, “I do not go.  This woman.  A good-looker, eh?  She is pleasant—­to men?  Where is she?  Who is she?”

“She’s my secretary, sir.”  Elas jumped at the change of his visitor’s humour.  “She’s not much more than a kid.  But she’s quite a ‘looker,’ I’ll send for her, if you’ll permit me.  She’s getting some reports for me.  I’ll ask her to bring them up.  You can see her then, sir, and, if you’ll forgive me, I won’t present her to you.  If I do she’ll guess something, and it’s best she knows nothing of this contemplated deal—­as regards you.”

For a moment the banker made no reply.  He sat, an adipose mass, breathing heavily, and sucking at his cigar.  Then quite suddenly, he nodded.

“Send for her,” he said sharply.

Elas reached the telephone and rang down.