"Mr. Farlow," he cried, holding out one tenacious hand in greeting, "you have done me a great honor, sir. You have done me an inestimable service in coming. I can—only thank you."
But Ruxton was less attentive to his words than to the man. There was a change in him. A subtle change. He was no longer the enthusiastic inventor, almost slavishly striving to enlist sympathy for his invention. There was something about him which suggested command—even an atmosphere of the autocrat. Perhaps it was that here he was in his own natural element—the element which he had himself created. Perhaps——
But he left it at that. It was useless to speculate further. He still experienced the sense of trust and liking which had been inspired at their first meeting by the noble forehead and the gentle, luminous eyes, so like, yet so unlike, those other eyes which so largely filled his thoughts.
He willingly responded to the extended hand. And the man seemed to expect no reply, for he went on at once——
"I was in my laboratory when you came aboard. Now I am entirely at your service."
"Good." Ruxton nodded. "I feel there must be a lot of talk between us—without delay."
The inventor looked at his watch. Then he pointed at the lounge from which Ruxton had risen, and seated himself in one of the swivel chairs at the dining-table.
"We have nearly two hours before supper is served. May I send for some refreshment for you?"
Ruxton dropped into the seat behind him.
"Thanks, no," he declined, "I dined early—purposely. All I am anxious for now is—explanation."