Bell shot him a quick, curious look. Heldstrom looked old ... and it suddenly struck the choleric owner that his sailing-master was getting on in years. He observed that Heldstrom's thick, curling hair, formerly of a rich, lustrous chestnut colour, was grizzled almost to the point of being white, while the bushy eyebrows, heavy moustache, and thick, curling beard were fast becoming snowy. The big Norwegian's face was very deeply lined, and at this moment the creases looked like those of age and suffering, rather than the result of exposure to all winds and weather. Bell was a little startled, for Heldstrom was but slightly older than himself, and it occurred to the ex-naval officer that if Heldstrom were becoming an old man, then he must be doing the same. "He seems to have given you a bad turn," said Bell, crossly. "You look as if you'd just come from a funeral." "Und I feel like it, too..." muttered Heldstrom. "It is a long time since I have let myselluf t'ink of my old home. Someding about dis yoong man br'rought back der fjords und der midnight sun und der big fires on der heart' of my fadder's gaad..." "You think he's a Scandinavian?" demanded Bell. "No, zir; I t'ink he vas American like myselluf. But he is from Scandinavian stock. It is so t'at he can find his way ar'round in der fog..." And his deep-set blue eyes roamed across the intervening water to where the _Daffodil_ lay at anchor. Bell ordered away the gig, and as he was about to set off on his formal call, he turned to see Cécile, fresh and lovely, in pink muslin, with a little panama hat wound about with a rose-coloured pugaree. In her hand was a tiny parasol to match. Cécile made it a point never to wear anything nautical. "Huh..." snorted Bell; "where are you going?" "With you, papa." "But I am going to call on the Pilot-fish." "So I imagined. As Hermione's sister I thought that I ought to go with you. You see, in a way, I stand in _loco parentis_." Bell wrinkled up his nose. He was, on the whole, pleased with the idea, but he guessed that Cécile's object was less inspired by a sense of social obligation than a feminine curiosity to see the man reputed to be following them about through hopeless love of herself. He determined to tease her a little. "Oh, it ain't necessary. I'm parent enough. It would only embarrass him if you were to go too. He's shy as a red-head duck." Cécile bit her lip. "Very well," said she. "If you don't want me. I merely felt that I ought to go because the situation was a rather delicate one ... those two wandering about at daybreak in their bathing suits. My instinct told me that some official recognition of such an incident should be taken by a woman of the family; it seems scarcely the thing to be left for two men..."