"I suppose I ought to be, but I am not in the least," she assured him.
"I never had any doubt as to the destination of that packet."
"That," he admitted, "is a relief to me. Let us wipe the matter from our memories, Miss Van Teyl."
"One word," she begged, "and that only of curiosity. Did you examine the contents of the pocketbook?"
He turned his head and looked at her. For a moment he had lost the greater spontaneity of his new self. He was again the cold, calculating machine.
"No," he answered, "except to take out and destroy what seemed to be a few private memoranda. There was a bill for flowers, a note from a young lady—some rubbish of that sort. The remaining papers were all calculations and figures, chemical formulae."
"Are you a chemist, Mr. Fischer?" she inquired.
"Not in the least," he acknowledged. "I recognised just enough of the formulae on the last page to realise that there were entirely new elements being dealt with."
She nodded.
"I only asked out of curiosity. I agree. Let us put it out of our thoughts. You see, I am generous. We have fought a battle, you and I, and I have lost. Yet we remain friends."
"It is more than your friendship that I want, Miss Van Teyl," he pleaded, his voice shaking a little. "I am years older than you, I know, and, by your standards, I fear unattractive. But you love power, and I have it. I will take you into my schemes. I will show you how those live who stand behind the clouds and wield the thunders."