"How long have you been in the Orient?" Elsa asked.

"Ten years," he answered gravely.

"That is a long time."

"Sometimes it was like eternity."

"I have heard from the purser of your good luck."

"Oh!" He stooped again and locked the door of Rajah's cage. "I dare
say a good many people will hear of it."

"It was splendid. I love to read stories like that, but I'd far rather
hear them told first-hand."

Elsa was not romantic in the sense that she saw heroes where there were
only ordinary men; but she thrilled at the telling of some actual
adventure, something big with life. Her heart and good will went out
to the man who won against odds. Strangely enough, soldier's daughter
though she was, the pomp and glamour and cruelty of war were detestable
to her. It was the obscure and unknown hero who appealed to her: such
a one as this man might be.

"Oh, there was nothing splendid about the thing. I simply hung on."
Then a thought struck him. "You are traveling alone?"

"With a companion." A peculiar question, she thought.