CHAPTER X 

Van Teyl, as he hastened forward to meet his friend, presented at first sight a very good type of the well-groomed, athletic young American. He was over six feet tall, with smooth, dark hair brushed back from his forehead, a strong, clean-shaven face and good features. Only, as he drew nearer, there was evident a slight, unnatural quivering at the corner of his lips. The cordiality of his greeting, too, was a little overdone. 

"Welcome home, Fischer! Why, man, you're looking fine. Had a pleasant voyage?" 

"Storms for the first few days--after that all right," Fischer replied. 

"Any submarines?" 

"Not a sight of one. Seen your sister yet?" 

"Not yet. I've been waiting about for a telephone message. She hadn't arrived, a few minutes ago." 

Fischer frowned. 

"I want us three to meet--you and she and I--the first moment she sets foot in the hotel," he declared. 

"What's the hurry?" Van Teyl demanded. "You must have seen plenty of her the last ten days." 

"That," Fischer insisted, "was a different matter. See here, Jimmy, I'll be frank with you." 

He walked to the door of the bedroom, opened it, and looked inside. Its sole occupant was Nikasti, who was at the far end, putting away some clothes. Fischer closed the door firmly and returned. 

"I want you to understand this, James," he began. "Your sister is meddling in certain things she'd best leave alone." 

Van Teyl lit a cigarette. 

"No use talking to me," he observed. "Pamela's her own mistress, and she's gone her own way ever since she came of age." 
Had she called?
"Not yet. I've been waiting about for a telephone message. She hadn't arrived, a few minutes ago." 