hen she had first looked into his big,
wholesome face, with its clear, searching eyes. Yes, she had realised
then the truth of Father Adam's description. He would as soon fight as
laugh. There could be no doubt of it.

And then those days on the _Myra_. She recalled their talk of the
sea-gulls, and of the men of the forests, and she remembered the almost
brutal contempt for them he had so downrightly expressed. Then the
moment of disaster to herself. It was he who had saved her, he who had
fought for her, although he had been in little better case himself.

What was it they had told her? He must be bought or smashed. She
wondered if they realised the man they were dealing with. She wondered
what they would have felt and thought if they had listened to the
confident assurance of Father Adam. If they had listened to Bull
Sternford himself, and learned to know him as she had already learned to
know him. The Skandinavia was powerful, but was it powerful enough to
deal as they desired with this man who was as ready to fight as to
laugh?

She shook her head. And it was a negative movement she was unaware of.
Well, anyway, the game had begun, and she was in it. Her duty was clear
enough. And meanwhile she would miss no opportunity to pull her whole
weight for her side, even when she knew that was not the whole thought
in her mind.

But somehow there were things she regretted when she remembered the
fight ahead. She regretted the moment when this man had saved her from
almost certain death against the iron stanchions and sides of the
_Myra_. She regretted his fine eyes, and he had fine eyes which looked
so squarely out of their setting. Then, too, he had been so kindly
concerned that she should achieve the mission upon which she had
embarked. It would have been so easy and even exacting had he been a man
of less generous impulse. A man whom she could have thoroughly disliked.
But he was the reverse of all those things which make it a joy to hurt.
He was--

She pulled herself up and seized the pretty beaded vanity bag lying
ready to her hand. Then the telephone rang.

It was the cab which the porter had ordered, and she hastily switched
off the lights.

On the way down in the elevator her train of thought persisted. And long
before she reached the Chateau, a feeling that she was playing something
of the part of Delilah took hold of her and depressed her.

But she was determined. Whatever happened her service and loyalt