*****
Fenton's arrival at the lodge, with the princess in his arms, had created a sensation, to say the least. It was not until he had removed his mask at Crane's strident command, that his real identity was discovered. When it developed that the Canadian and Olga were actually married, Crane retired to the operator's room above in a state of thorough mental mystification. He tramped in heavily and sat himself down in his chair, quite ignoring Mademoiselle Petrowa who was seated at the other side of the table; which was Crane's usual way with women.
The dancer and Crane had been thrown together continuously since the arrival of the rescuing party at the lodge. Anna had made certain tentative advances of a mildly flirtatious character, and Crane had responded by bullying her most ferociously; which, after all, is not so far removed from love-making. Strangely enough, Anna had not really understood his attitude. She was puzzled by this stormy, red-haired individual, who ordered her about as though she were a stage-hand. She had acknowledged to herself that he was an interesting type of man, a compelling type. When he had smiled—he had a most engaging smile—she had felt strangely attracted.
He coolly removed his coat and collar and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. Then he produced a pipe that he had found somewhere in the lodge, a most vile one, too, and settled down for a comfortable smoke. Through the haze that surrounded him he nodded frowningly at his companion.
"Pretty business, downstairs," he said, in an aggrieved tone. "Here's this fellow, Fenton, who knows the work we've got ahead of us and yet goes and wastes time getting married."
"Married!" cried Anna, in genuine amazement.
"Married," responded Crane with confirmatory disgust. "It seems he chucked Miridoff off the cliff and then took his place at the ceremony. The happy couple are downstairs now."
There was a period of silence. Anna had been well aware of the state of affairs between Fenton and Olga, but its sudden denouement almost took her breath away. Crane studied her shrewdly out of the corner of his eye.
"Just the same I admire the beggar's nerve!" he said finally. "He'll be putting ideas in other heads. Now if an ordinary fellow like Fenton can pick up with a princess, perhaps even a down-at-heels engineer could aspire to—er——"
Anna laughed, a rippling laugh thai expressed enlightenment and much satisfaction. She had seen beneath the armour of bluster, and knew that in reality Crane would be as wax in her facile hands. From that moment dated the ascendency of Anna.