"Delighted," he agreed, taking the chair opposite to her. "I suppose you want to know what became of poor Graham?"
A sudden bewilderment appeared in her face. She leaned towards him. Her forehead was knitted, her eyes puzzled. There was a new problem to be solved.
"Why, Mr. Lutchester," she demanded, "how on earth did you get here?"
"Across the Atlantic," he replied amiably. "Bit too far the other way round."
"Yes, but what on?" she persisted. "I went straight on to the Lapland after we parted last week, and only arrived here an hour or so ago. There was no other passenger steamer sailing for three days."
"I was a stowaway," he told her confidentially—"helped to shovel coals all the way over."
"Don't talk nonsense!" she protested a little sharply. "I dislike mysteries. Look at you! A stowaway, indeed! Tell me the truth at once?"
He leaned forward in his chair towards her. An ingenuous smile parted his lips. He had the air of a schoolboy repeating a mischievous secret.
"The fact is, Miss Van Teyl," he confided, "I don't want it talked about, you know, but I had a joy ride over."
"A what?"