"Sit down," growled Steppe, and to the girl's amazement, Ronnie sat. It was the only notice Jan Steppe took of his presence throughout the interview, and Ronnie neither showed resentment nor made the slightest attempt to intrude into the conversation that followed.
Presently Steppe looked at his watch. "I can catch that train," he said, and got up. "You're coming to dinner with me next week—I'll fix the date with the doctor." She said she would be delighted. Something of the mastership extended to her.
"You saw Sault?" He turned back after he had taken her hand. "Queer fellow, huh? Big man, huh?"
"I thought he was—interesting," she admitted.
"Yes—interesting. A man." He glowered at Ronald Morelle. "Interesting," he repeated, and went away with that. Her fascinated gaze followed him as he strode toward the car. "Paddington—get me there, damn you," she heard him say, and when the car had gone—
"Dynamic," she said with a sigh. "He is like a power house. When I shake hands with him, I feel as though I'm going to get a bad burn! You were very silent, Ronnie?"
"Yes—" absently. "Old Steppe is rather a shocker, isn't he? How did he know you had seen Sault?"
"Father told him, I suppose. Ronnie, are you afraid of Mr. Steppe?"
He colored. "Afraid? How stupid you are, Beryl! Why should I be afraid of him? He's—well, I do business with him. I am a director of a company or two, he put me into them. One has to—how shall I put it? One has to be polite to these people. I'll go along now. Beryl—lot of work to do."
He was uncomfortable, and she did not pursue the subject. The knowledge brought a little ache to her heart—that Ronnie was afraid of Jan Steppe! She would have given her soul to respect Ronald Morelle as she respected the swarthy gray-haired man whom even Steppe respected.