Applebo's brows came lower. He did not reply. "I haf never said it to anybody," continued Heldstrom, "und I vould knock der man down vat said it to me. But I vill say it to you. Your mudder vas royalty, but she vas no goot. Und you are like her." Applebo raised his eyebrows. "If you were not my father," he said, "I would knock your brains out. But after all, when one stops to think, you are throwing mud principally at yourself." Heldstrom's expression became terrible. "I t'row mud at nobody!" he cried, and leaned forward, gripping the gravity table until his great finger joints creaked. "I tell you only vat you ar're!" Applebo hunched up his shoulders, leaned back, crossed his strong hands in front of one upraised knee, and eyed his father through half-opened eyelids. "When did you discover my identity?" he asked. "That iss my affair! I knew alvays dere was a son. All my life, since your mudder left me...." "I beg your pardon ... since you left my mother...." "Since your mudder left me ... for..." "Since you left my mother..." interrupted Applebo, in a voice which, for all of its silky tone, sheared its way through that of Heldstrom. Heldstrom struck the gravity-table a blow with his great fist. "Since your mudder left me...." "Please don't break my furniture! I need it. I don't need a father, particularly...." Applebo's voice was smooth and yet appeared to overtone and undertone that of Heldstrom. "But I do need my table. I need certain ideals, also, that you are trying your best to break down ... like any other coarse brute of a Scandinavian sailorman! You ... you lived a whole lifetime in a few weeks, didn't you ... _didn't you?_ ... Don't begin to glare! And now ... you come over here aboard of my little boat ... _to kick about the bill!_" Few men would have cared to face Christian Heldstrom at that moment, but the one facing him was of the same fierce, viking breed. Applebo guessed at the motive for the visit, which was very far from being one of parental interest. There was no doubt in his mind that it had to do with Hermione, but of that, later. At present it had to do with himself and this father, whom for weeks he had followed through a deep-seated filial instinct of affection. He was very glad that he had waited before declaring himself. Applebo felt shame and a hot resentment in his heart that this father, about whom he had built so many splendid ideals, should thus prove himself merely a harsh and violent Norwegian sailor. Heldstrom was glowering at him across the table. His eyes were like the blue tips of icicles. "Pay der bill...?" he rasped. "Vat do you mean?"