Left alone, Captain Utterbourne, humming gently, gazed across in a quizzical way at the man their talk had just concerned. He watched him with eyes a little narrowed; and underneath his lazy quiet there seemed to lurk something keen and purposeful. It was as though some subtle preparation were afoot.  
Presently he got up, strolled over to where King was lounging watching the dancers, and nodded with a smile flickering icily on his lips.
 
“King,” he began abruptly, yet in the dreamy, drawling tone which characterized most of his speech, “did you ever sit down before a map of the world and just let your mind go? H’m? It’s a gorgeous piece of adventure!” There was a tiny thrill of fire, and he seemed to be pulling the sentences up from some profound abyss. “A map of the world—h’m? What it has cost in toil and ingenuity—the long sifting of facts—the grim wrestle with legend—h’m?”
 
What could it mean? What was this new mystery of approach? There were forces busy here.
 
“Think,” embroidered the Captain,“—think of the slough of the Middle Ages, when what bothered the map-makers most was the pressure of the Church, holding up before them those obscuring metaphysical allusions to ‘the four corners of the earth’—when the best they could do was to conceive of a rectangular world—h’m?—surrounded by—by the unknown! Just think of it, King!”
 
A waltz swayed the dancers all about them. Yes, there were forces busy here.
 
Elsa dashed up. “Oh, here you are!” She laughed easily and not very mirthfully. “Yes, I know—I’m coming,” she soothingly interpolated over her shoulder to a youth with mussed hair who had wildly pursued her waving a program[30] with its flying cord and pencil. “I wanted Mr. King to mee............