The man's eyes were searching.
"Where is he?"
"At the Chateau. He's waiting to hear from you for an appointment."
Peterman flung himself back in his chair with a great laugh. Nancy missed the mirthless tone of it.
"Say, my dear," he cried at last. "How did you do it? How in—You're just as bright and smart as I reckoned. You've done one big thing and I guess you've earned all the Skandinavia can hand you. But—"
He broke off, and his gaze drifted away from the face with its vivid halo. The wintry daylight beyond the window claimed him, and Nancy waited.
"How did you persuade him to ship down on the Myra with you?" he asked, after a moment's thought.
"I didn't persuade him. He volunteered."
"Volunteered?"
"Yes. He was coming down on her next trip. You see, he's making England right away. He guessed he'd come along down with me instead. He seemed keen set to discuss this thing with you."