"It was," said he.
"Well, Mr. Nansen," I put in, rising, "you can stand it. You are cold enough to stay in Hades for forty-seven years without losing your outside garments. How much do I owe you?"
"Fifteen thousand dollars, please," said he.
I gave him the money and swam away.
"Good-bye," he cried, as I reached the outer edge of the Maelstrom. "I hope, next time I go to America, that I shall meet you."
"Many thanks," said I. "When do you expect to come?"
"Never," he replied, "Deo volente!"
Charming chap, that Nansen. So warm, you know.