IN QUEBEC
It was the final stage of her journey. Nancy was on her way up from the
docks, where she had left the staunch _Myra_ discharging her cargo.
It was that triumphant return to which she had always looked forward,
for which she had hoped and prayed. Her work was completed. It had been
crowned with greater success than she had dared to believe possible. Yet
her triumph somehow found her unelated, even a shade depressed.
A belated sense of humour battled with her mood. There were moments when
she wanted to laugh at herself. There were others when she had no such
desire. So she sat gazing out of the limousine window, as though all her
interest were in the drab houses lining the way, and the heavy-coated
pedestrians moving along the sidewalks of the narrow streets through
which they were passing.
It was winter all right, for all no snow had as yet fallen, and the girl
felt glad that it was so. It suited her mood.
Once or twice she took a sidelong glance at the man seated beside her;
but Bull Sternford's mood was no less reticent than her own. Once she
encountered the glance of his eyes, and it was just as the vehicle
bumped heavily over the badly paved road.
"We can do better in the way of roads up at Sachigo," he said with a
belated smile.
"You surely can," Nancy admitted readily. "The roads down here in the
old town are terrible. This old city of ours could fill pages of
history. It's got beauties, too, you couldn't find anywhere else in the
world. But it seems to need most of the things a city needs to make it
the place we folk reckon it is."
She went on at random.
"Do you always keep an automobile in Quebec?" she asked.
Bull shook his head.
"Hired," he said.
"I see."
Bull's eyes twinkled.
"Yes," he went on, "when I make this old city it's with the purpose of
driving twenty-four hours work into twelve. An automobile helps that
way."
"And you're wasting all this time driving me up to my apartments?" Nancy
smiled. "I'm more indebted than I guessed."
The man's denial was instant.
"No," he said. "Your apartments are about two blocks from the Château.
But tell me, when'll you be through making your report to Peterman?"
Nancy's depression passed. She was caught again in the interest of
everything.
"Why, to-day--surely," she said. "You see, I want to get word to you
right away."
Bull nodded.
"That's fine," he said. "It's not my way leaving things lying around
either. I'll be on the jump to get through before sailing time to that
little old country across the water. But tell me. That report. After
it's in you'll have made all the good you reckon to? And then you,
personally, cut right out of this thing?"
His manner gave no indication of the thing in his mind.
"Oh, yes," Nancy replied happily. "You see, I've bearded you--only
you've no beard--in your fierce den up in Sachigo. And I've--and you've
come right down here to Quebec with me to discuss with my people the
thing they want to discuss with you. They didn't think I--they didn't
hope that. Maybe I've done better than they expected. Why, when I hand
the news to Mr. Peterman he'll--he'll--oh, I'm just dying to see his
face when I tell him."
"You--haven't wired him already?"
"No. The news was too good to send by wire."
For a moment the man contemplated the simple radiant creature beside
him. She was so transparently happy. And the sight of her happiness
satisfied him.
"It'll--astonish him, eh?"
"Astonish him?" Nancy laughed. "That doesn't say a thing. I shouldn't
wonder if he refused to believe me."
"And you'll get--promotion? Promotion--in Skandinavia?"
The girl's eyes sobered on the instant.
"Surely. Why not?"
"Yes. Why not?"
Just for a moment Nancy hesitated. Then her challenge came incisively.
"What do you mean?"
But the man smilingly shook his head.
"You want promotion under Peterman--in the Skandinavia?"
Nancy's eyes widened.
"Why shouldn't I? The Skandinavia's everything to me. It ought to be
everything. Isn't that so? Now, I wonder what you mean?" she went on,
after the briefest pause. "Are you talking that way just because you are
a rival concern?" She shook her head. "That's no affair of mine. But
wait while I tell you. Try and think yourself a young girl without folks
that count, with a pretty tough world laid out in front of her, and with
a healthy desire to dress, and eat the same as any other girl of her
age. She's given a chance in life to make good, to gather round her all
those things she needs, by--the Skandinavia. Well, how would you feel?
Wouldn't you want that--promotion? Yes. I want it. I want it with all my
heart. The Skandinavia gave me my first start. They've been very, very
good to me. I've big room in my heart for them. Their work's my work all
the time. I've nothing but gratitude for Mr. Peterman."
"Yes." Bull's smile had passed. He was thinking of Nancy's feeling of
gratitude towards the Swede--Peterman.
He turned away, and the grey wintry daylight beyond the window seemed to
absorb him. He was possessed by a mad desire to fling prudence to the
winds and then and there point out the wrong he felt she was committing
against the country that had bred her in spending her life in the
service of these foreigners. But he knew he must refrain. It was not the
moment. And somehow he felt she was not the girl to listen patiently to
such ethics as he preached when their force was directed against those
who claimed her whole loyalty and gratitude.
To Nancy it seemed as though some shadow had arisen between them. She
was a little troubled at the thing she had said. But somehow she had no
desire to withdraw a single word of it.
The car had passed out of the old part of the city. And Nancy realised
it was ascending the great hill where the Château Hotel looked out over
the old citadel and the wide waters of the busy St. Lawrence river. In a
few minutes the happy companionship of the past few days would be only a
memory.
It was only a little way to her apartments now. Such a very little way.
Yes. The porter would be there. He would take her trunks and baggage,
and then her door would close behind her, and--She remembered that
moment at which she had awakened to consciousness in this man's strong
arms in the poor little saloon of the storm-beaten _Myra_. She
remembered the embracing strength of them, and the way she had thrilled
under their pressure. It had been all very wonderful.
"Say!"
Bull Sternford had turned back from the window. He was smiling again.
"Yes?" The girl was all eager attention.
"I was wondering," Bull went on. "Maybe you'll' fancy hearing how things
are fixed after I see Peterman?"
"I'll be ever so glad. There's the 'phone. You can get me most any time
after business hours. I don't go out much. I--"
Nancy broke off to glance out of the window. The automobile had slowed.
"Why, we're at my place," she cried. And the man fancied he detected
disappointment in her tone.
The car stopped before the apartment house, and Bull hurled himself at
the litter of the girl's belongings strewn about their feet. A few
moments later they were standing together on the sidewalk surrounded by
the baggage.
Bull gazed up at the building.
"You live here?" he asked at random.
Nancy nodded.
"Yes. It isn't much. But some day, maybe, I'll be able to afford a swell
apartment with--"
"Sure you will," Bull agreed, as they passed up the steps to the
entrance doors. "But meanwhile I mostly need your 'phone number of
this," he added with a laugh.
The baggage was left to the porter's care, and they stood together in
the hallway. Bull's youthful stature was overshadowing for all Nancy
was tall. Somehow the girl was glad of it. She liked his height, and the
breadth of his great shoulders, and the power of limbs his tweed suit
was powerless to disguise.
She moved across to the porter's office and wrote down her 'phone number
while the man looked on. But he only had eyes for the girl herself. At
that moment her telephone number was the last thing he desired to think
about.
She stood up and offered him the paper.
"You won't forget it that way," she said, with a smile.
"No."
Bull glanced down at it. Then he looked again into the smiling eyes.
"Thanks," he said. "I'll ring up." Then he held out a hand. "So long."
He was gone. The glass door had swung to behind him. Nancy watched him
pass into the waiting automobile, and responded to his final wave of the
hand. Then she turned to the porter, and her smile had completely
vanished.
* * * * *
Nathaniel Hellbeam stood up. He had been seated at Elas Peterman's desk
studying the papers which his managing director had set out for his
perusal. His gross body hung over the table for a moment as he reached
towards his hat. He took his gloves from inside it and commenced to put
them on.
"The _Myra_? You say she is in?" he asked in his guttural fashion. "This
girl? This girl who is to buy up this--this Sachigo man," he laughed.
"Is she arrived?"
The man's eyes were alight with unpleasant derision. Peterman gave no
heed. The man's arrogance was all too familiar to him.
"I've not heard--yet," he said. "She should be."
"You not have heard--yet?" The challenge was superlatively offensive.
"You a beautiful secretary have. You lose her for weeks--months. Yet you
do not know of her return--yet? Sho! You are not the man for this
beautiful secretary. She for me is--yes? Hah!"
Peterman smiled as was his duty.
"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.
"No. She's coming right over to tell me the whole story."
"Now?"
"In a while."
Elas Peterman knew his position to the last fraction when dealing with
Nathaniel Hellbeam. He knew it was for him to obey, almost without
question. But somehow, for the moment, his Teutonic self-abnegation had
become obscured. He was yielding nothing in the matter of this woman to
anyone. Not even to Nathaniel Hellbeam whom he regarded almost as the
master of his destiny.
Perhaps the gross nature of the financier possessed a certain sympathy.
Perhaps even there was a lurking sense of honour in him, where a woman,
whom he regarded as another man's property, was concerned. Again it may
simply have been that he understood the other's reticence, and it suited
him for the moment to restrain his grosser inclinations. He laughed. And
it was not an hilarious effort.
"Oh, yes," he said. "You will see her first. That is as it should be.
Later, we both will talk with her. Well--good luck my friend."
Hellbeam thrust his hat on his great head and strutted his way across to
the door.
"These people must be bought. Or--" he said, pausing before passing
out--
"Smashed!"
Hellbeam nodded.
"It suits me better to--buy."
"Yes. You want to come into touch with--the owner."
"Yes."
The gross figure disappeared through the doorway.
Peterman did not return to his desk. He crossed to the window and stood
gazing out of it. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets. And his
fingers moved nervously, rattling the contents of them. He was a goodly
specimen of manhood. He was tall, and squarely erect, and carried
himself with that military bearing which seems to belong to all the
races of Teutonic origin. It was only in the study of the man's face
that exception could be taken. Just now there was none to observe and he
was free from all restraint.
His dark eyes were smiling, for his thoughts were streaming along the
channel that most appealed. He was thinking of the beauty of the girl
who was about to return to him, and it seemed to him a pity she was so
simply honest, so very young in the world as he understood it. Then her
ambition. It was--but he was rather glad of her ambition. Ambition might
prove his best friend in the end. In his philosophy an ambitious woman
could have no scruple. Anyway it seemed to him that ambition pitted
against scruple was an easy winner. He could play on that, and he felt
he knew how to play on it, and was in a position to do so. She had come
back to him successful. He wondered how successful.
He moved from the window and passed over to the desk, where he picked up
his 'phone and asked for a number.
"Hullo! Oh, that Bennetts? Oh, yes. This is Peterman--Elas Peterman
speaking. Did you send that fruit, and the flowers I ordered to the
address I gave you? Yes? Oh, you did? They were there before eleven
o'clock. Good. Thanks--"
He set the 'phone down and turned away. But in a moment he was recalled.
It was a message from downstairs. Nancy McDonald wished to see him.
* * * * *
Peterman was leaning back in his chair. Nancy was occupying the chair
beside the desk which had not known her for several months.
It was a moment of stirring emotions. For the girl it was that moment to
which she had so long looked forward. To her it seemed she was about to
vindicate this man's confidence in her, and offer him an adequate return
such as her gratitude desired to make. And deep down in her heart, where
the flame of ambition steadily burned, she felt she had earned the
promised reward, all of it.
The man was concerned with none of these things. He was not even
concerned for the girl's completed mission. It was Nancy herself. It was
the charming face with its halo of red hair, and the delightful figure
so rounded, so full of warmth and charm, which concerned him.
He had no scruple as he feasted his eyes upon her. He did nothing to
disguise his admiration, and Nancy, full of her news and the thrilling
joy of her success, saw nothing of that which a less absorbed woman, a
more experienced woman, must unfailingly have observed.
"You've a big story for me," Peterman said, with a light laugh. "Have
you completed an option on--Sachigo? You look well. You're looking fine.
Travelling in Labrador seems to have done you good."
Nancy's smiling eyes were alight with delight.
"Oh, yes," she said. "It's done me good. But then I've had a success I
didn't reckon on. Maybe it's made all the difference. It was a real
tough journey. I'm not sure you'd have seen me back at all if it hadn't
been for Mr. Sternford."
"How?"
The man's smiling eyes had changed. Their dark depths were full of sharp
enquiry. Nancy read only anxiety.
"Why, we were sitting on deck, and it was storming. It was just
terrible. We lurched heavily and shipped a great sea. Our chairs were
flung into the scuppers by the rush of water, and I--why, I guess I was
beaten unconscious and drowning when he got hold of me. He just fought
his way to safety. I didn't know about it till I was safe down in the
saloon. I woke up then, and he was carrying me--"
"Sternford?"
The change in the man's eyes had deepened. Then his smile came back to
them. But that, too, was different. It was curiously fixed and hard.
"You've gone a bit too fast for me," he said. "I don't get things right.
Sternford, the man running Sachigo was with you on the _Myra_? He's
here--in Quebec?"
It was Nancy's great moment.
"Yes," she said, with a restraint that failed to disguise her feelings.
"He's come down to discuss a business arrangement between the
Skandinavia and his enterprise. That's what you wanted--isn't it?"
The man leant forward in his chair. He set his elbows on the desk and
supported his chin in both hands. His smile was still there, and his
eyes were steadily regarding her. But they expressed none of the
surprise and delight Nancy looked for. They were smiling as he literally
forced them to smile.
"You brought him down with you--to meet us?" he asked slowly.
The girl nodded.
"You did your work so well that he entertained the notion sufficiently
to come along down--with you?"
"I--I--he's come down for that purpose."
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."
"I see. Keen set, eh? Keen set to talk with me?"
The man shook his head. It was not denial. It was the questioning of
something left unspoken.
The girl became anxious. Somehow a sense of disappointment was stirring.
"Is there anything wrong?" she asked at last, as the man remained
silent.
Peterman shook his head again.
"Not a thing, my dear," he said. "No. You've done everything. You
couldn't have done more if--if you'd been the most experienced woman
schemer in big business. You went up to prepare the ground for our
business. Well, you prepared it in a way I'd never have guessed. You've
brought this hard business head, Bull Sternford, right down out of his
fortress to meet us on our business proposition. Guess only you could
have done that." He laughed. "And this man saved your life, eh? And he
carried you in his arms to--safety. Say he was lucky. That's something
any man would be crazy to do. Well, well, I--"
He rose from his chair and passed round to the window where he stood
with back turned. Nancy's gaze followed him. For all his praise she was
disturbed.
The man at the window saw nothing of that upon which he gazed. His eyes
were unsmiling now that the girl could no longer observe them. They were
the eyes of a man of unbridled jealous fury. They were burning with an
insensate hatred for the man who had hitherto been only a stranger rival
in business.
Oh, he understood. Was it likely that this Bull Sternford was going to
yield for a business proposition in this fashion at the request of a
formidable rival? Was he going to change all his plans at the bidding of
the Skandinavia, and seize the first boat to come and tell them he was
prepared to fall for any plans they might design to beat him? Not
likely. No. It was the girl he had fallen for. He had changed his plans
for her, and for his nerve he had reaped a harvest such as he, Peterman,
had never reaped. He had held this beautiful creature in his arms, this
innocent, red-haired child, whom he, Peterman, had marked down for his
own. For how long? And she was all unconscious. Oh, it was maddening,
infuriating. And--
Suddenly he came back to the desk. Nancy was relieved as she beheld the
familiar smiling kindness in his eyes.
"Well, my dear. I can't tell you how delighted I am to get you back," he
said, pausing at her side. "My work's not been by any means satisfactory
with you away. There's just no one suits me in this house like you. But
the thing I'm most glad about is your success. That's been wonderful. I
felt you would make good, but I didn't know how good. Now I'm going to
ring this fellow up and fix things to see him. Meanwhile you get your
big report of the camps ready for the Board. Then, when you're ready,
I'm going to let them see you, and hear it all from you first hand, and
I'm going to get them to give you the head of the forestry department
right here. It'll be a mighty jump, but--well--"
Nancy was on her feet and her eyes were shining a gratitude which words
could never express. Impulsively she held out a hand in ardent thanks.
"Why, say--" she began.
The man had seized the delicate tapering fingers and held them warmly in
the palms of both of his.
"Now just don't say a thing," he said. "I know. I know just how you
feel, and the things you want to say. But don't. You've earned the best,
and I'm going to see you get it. I'm going to lose a smart secretary,
but I don't care if I make one good little friend. Now, Nancy, what
about to-night? I think we ought to celebrate your triumphant return
with a little dinner up at the Chateau. What say? Will you--honour me?
Eight o'clock. Thank goodness we're not a dry country yet, and it's
still possible to enjoy our successful moments properly. Will you?"
Nancy longed to withdraw the hand the man still held. It was curious.
Every word he said expressed just those things and tributes which her
girlish vanity had desired. There was not a word in all of it to give
offence. But for the second time she experienced a sense of trouble
which her woman's instinct prompted, and a feeling akin to panic
stirred. But she resisted it, as she knew she must, and her mind was
quite made up.
"You're--very kind," she said, with all the earnestness she could
summon, and with a gentleness that was intended to disarm. "But I'm so
very--very tired. You don't know what it was like on the _Myra_. We were
battered and beaten almost to death. I feel as if I needed sleep for a
week."
The man released her hand lingeringly. His disappointment was intense,
but he smiled.
"Why, sure," he said, "if you feel that way. I hadn't thought."
Then he turned abruptly back to his desk. "That's all right. Guess
we'll leave it. You go right home and get your rest."
For a moment Nancy hesitated. She was fearful of giving offence. She
felt the man's disappointment in his tone, and in the manner of his
turning away. But she dared not yield to his request. Suddenly she
remembered, and all hesitation passed.
"I--I just want to thank you for your kind thought sending me those
flowers and fruit," she exclaimed. "I wanted to thank you before, but I
was too excited with my news. I--"
The man cut her short.
"That's all right, my dear," he said. Then he nodded and deliberately
turned to his work. "I'm glad. Now--just run right along home
and--rest."