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Elas Peterman had no desire in the world to hurt this girl. A cleverer man would have avoided it. But this man had no refinement of thought or feeling. Cynicism and sarcasm were his substitutes for a humour he did not possess. Nancy's cheeks flushed hotly. But she stifled her feelings.
There's liable to be big work for you in this fight, and I'd say you'll make as good in fight as in peace. You've got my goodwill anyway, my dear, just for all it's worth. That's all." The door had closed behind the girl. Elas Peterman was on his feet pacing the thickly carpeted floor. There was no longer any attempt at disguise.
She wanted to get things into their proper focus. As she closed the door behind her her beautiful eyes had no joy in them. She had realised two things as a result of her interview. The opportunity she had looked forward to had materialised, and she had seized it with both hands. But the goodness of Elas Peterman to herself possessed none of that disinterested kindliness she had hitherto believed.
And furthermore, the man she served this man, Elas Peterman had hinted, and even definitely talked of, further rapid promotion. She had worked hard for it all. Oh, yes. She had worked morning, noon, and night.
A moment later the door was closed carefully behind her by the man who had thought Elas crazy to employ a woman. "Well?" Elas Peterman was seated behind his desk again. His challenging smile was directed at the heavily breathing figure of the banker who had hurried back to his chair. The great man laughed. It was a curious, unpleasant laugh.
It took the Germans four months to rebuild it. On the 11th of September 14,000 Italian troops in the north-west surrendered to the Andartes with all their arms. A month later ELAS seized the weapons and attacked EDES. The civil war had begun.
When Eddie Myers told them that he had been instructed to destroy the bridge over the Asopos river, ELAS said it was too dangerous a target and refused to help, so this became an all-British operation. A 24-year-old demolition expert of the Royal Engineers Captain Ken Scott, was sent from Cairo. He was dropped by parachute, and planned the successful attack on the bridge.
Sometimes it approached severity. But she understood its necessity for obtaining results. Her orders would be carried out. Elas Peterman set the 'phone back in its place. His dark eyes were smiling. They were shining, too, in a curious, not altogether wholesome fashion.
This is Peterman Elas Peterman speaking. Did you send that fruit, and the flowers I ordered to the address I gave you? Yes? Oh, you did? They were there before eleven o'clock. Good. Thanks " He set the 'phone down and turned away. But in a moment he was recalled. It was a message from downstairs. Nancy McDonald wished to see him. Peterman was leaning back in his chair.
Nancy held out the typescript to the waiting man whose eyes had none of the smiling welcome they would have had in Hellbeam's absence. "Thank you." Elas glanced down at the neatly bound script. "It's all complete?" "Oh, yes. It's the whole story. It's in tabloid form. You will be able to take the whole close in half an hour."
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