"I shall be glad to get her back," he said quietly. "But I haven't heard from her at all. And—well, she's not the sort of woman to bombard with telegrams. She's out on a difficult job and I felt it best to leave her to it. I shall hear when she's ready, I guess she'll be right along in to tell me personally. Maybe—"
He broke off and picked up the telephone whose buzzer was rattling impatiently on the desk.
"Hullo!" he said softly. "Oh, yes. Oh, how are you? So glad you've got back. What sort of passage did—oh, bad, eh? Well, well; I'm sorry. Oh, you're a good sailor. That's fine. Right away? You'll be over right away? Wouldn't you like to rest awhile? All right, I see. Yes, surely I'll be glad. I just thought—oh, not at all. You see, if you were a man I wouldn't be concerned at all. Yes, come right along whenever you choose. Eh? Successful? You have been? Why, that's just fine. Well, I'm dying to hear your news. Splendid. I shall be here. G'bye."
Peterman set the 'phone down. His smiling eyes challenged those of the man who a moment before had derided him.
"Well?"
Hellbeam's impatience was without scruple at any time.
"She's got back all right, and she's succeeded far better than you hoped. Better than she hoped herself. But—no better than I expected."
The other's eyes snapped under the quiet satisfaction of the man's reply.
"Ah, she has. Does she say—yes?"
Elas shook his dark head.