‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley. Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. The burden of decision had been transferred. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties. She was unusually soft and gentle in her manner to him. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. Sanguine they were not. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally.
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