The refusal of the other Japanese to accept the girl's offer of money for the papers had given Orme a new idea of the importance of the quest. Maku and his friend must be Japanese government agents--just as Poritol and Alcatrante were unquestionably acting for their government. This, at least, was the most probable explanation that entered Orme's mind. The syndicate, then,--or concession, or whatever it was--must be of genuine international significance. Though Orme continued to smother his curious questionings as to the meaning of the secret, he could not ignore his general surmises. To put his confidence in the girl--to act for her and for her alone--that was enough for him; but it added to his happiness to think that she might be leading him into an affair which was greater than any mere tangle of private interests. He knew too, that, upon the mesh of private interests, public interests are usually woven. The activity of a Russian syndicate in Korea had been the more or less direct cause of the Russo-Japanese War; the activity of rival American syndicates in Venezuela had been, but a few years before, productive of serious international complications. In the present instance, both South Americans and Japanese were interested. But Orme knew in his soul that there could be nothing unworthy in any action in which the girl took part. She would not only do nothing unworthy; she would understand the situation clearly enough to know whether the course which offered itself to her was worthy or not. In events such as she had that night faced with him, any other girl Orme had ever met would have shown moments of weakness, impatience, or fear. But to her belonged a calm which came from a clear perception of the comparative unimportance of petty incident. She was strong, not as a man is strong, but in the way a woman should be strong. The blood went to his cheeks as he remembered how tenderly he had spoken to her in the boat, and how plain he had made his desire for her. What should he call his feeling? Did love come to men as suddenly as this? She had not rebuked him--there was that much to be thankful for; and she must have known that his words were as involuntary as his action in touching her shoulder with his hand. But how could she have rebuked him? She was, in a way, indebted to him. The thought troubled him. Had he unintentionally taken advantage of her gratitude by showing affection when she wished no more than comradeship? And had she gently said nothing, because he had done something for her? If her patience with him were thus to be explained, it must have been based upon her recognition of his unconsciousness.