Only her eyes, those
pretty, confident, intelligent, hazel depths he missed. But he waited.

"These are the papers, Mr. Peterman."

Nancy held out the typescript to the waiting man whose eyes had none of
the smiling welcome they would have had in Hellbeam's absence.

"Thank you." Elas glanced down at the neatly bound script.

"It's all complete?"

"Oh, yes. It's the whole story. It's in tabloid form. You will be able
to take the whole close in half an hour."

A rough clearing of the throat interrupted her, and Nancy discovered the
banker beside the desk. In something of a hurry she promptly turned to
depart. But Elas claimed her.

"Will you come to me after lunch?" he said pleasantly.

"I want to go into the details of that trip I explained to you. You must
get away as soon as possible."

"Directly after lunch?"

"Yes. Say three o'clock."

"Very well."

The girl again turned to go, but the banker anticipated her. As she
reached the door he stood beside it, and opened it for her to pass out.
He was holding something in his hand. It was an exquisitely formed gold
fountain-pen.

"This yours is, I think," he said heavily, while his eyes searched those
depths of hazel he had missed before.

The girl smiled as she gazed at the beautiful pen. She shook her head.

"No," she said. "I never possessed anything so beautiful in my life."

"But you drop it as you come, I think, yes?" The man's eyes were
levelled at her devouringly. Quick as thought he turned to Elas watching
the scene. "Is it yours? I see it on the carpet, yes?"

The manager was prompt to take his cue.

"It's not mine," he said. "It must be yours, Miss McDonald. If it isn't
I guess you'd best have it till we find its owner."

The girl smiled from one to the other.

"Thanks ever so much," she said, with frank pleasure. "I'll keep it till
we find the owner. It's a lovely thing."

She took the glittering pen from the fleshy fingers holding it. And just
for an instant her hand encountered the banker's. It was only for an
instant, however. A moment later the door was closed carefully behind
her by the man who had thought Elas crazy to employ a woman.

"Well?"

Elas Peterman was seated behind his desk again. His challenging smile
was directed at the heavily breathing figure of the banker who had
hurried back to his chair.

The great man laughed. It was a curious, unpleasant laugh. His heavy
cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glittered curiousl