Thor laid a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. “Stay then, Bridie. But I must have a promise from you, too.” He glanced at Czar. “For that matter, another promise from you.”

“No, you don’t! And I’m not so sure about the first. I hand ten thousand dollars over to Chris. What for? She isn’t of age, what do you do? Get it away from her?”

“If it was the money I wanted I could have had plenty of it these past years. More than even you have piled up. I want Christine to have a little of her own. It’s a risky world for a penniless woman and she can’t depend on you. She may not want to live the life you want for her. Then you’ll punish her.”

“You talk too much, like most old men. Gab gab gab.”

“I’ll make it brief as possible. You’ll write a check now, made out to Christine for ten thousand dollars. Bridie will hold the check until I’ve said what I have to say. If either one of you—or both of you—feels that I’m a possible disgrace to Christine—”

“—then I’ll be sole guardian,” Czar finished for him.

Thor considered a moment, in silence. “Yes. With this second provision: Neither of you will ever speak of what I’m going to tell you, to Christine or to anyone else.” He smiled genially at the palpitating Bridie. “That’s going to be harder for you than for Czar, here.” He waited a moment. “Promise.”

“I promise.” She raised her right hand, dramatically. “Oh, Thor, I hope it’s nothing too bad, though who’s free of black moments? I always say, if everybody had killed the person they’ve said, one time or another, they’d like to kill, why, the world would be depopulated by now.”

Czar had taken a slim little checkbook from an inner pocket, his pen from another. He wrote swiftly, he tore out the check. Before he could rise, Bridie had whisked across the room to snatch it. Almost menacingly Czar warned her. “None of your tricks, Bridie Ballantyne. I’m not above taking it from you by force.” He looked at Thor. “I’ll promise, but it’s for Christine.”

Bridie began to giggle again, what with nervousness and an overwhelming Irish sense of the ridiculous. “It’s as good as a play, but I feel foolish.”

“So do I,” Thor said, very low, as though to himself.

“Stop mumbling! Get it out! Unless you’re making a fool of both of us.”

“No. No, I’m not. The truth is, Czar, I come of a stock and class that would be called old-fashioned now, here in modern American Alaska. I come of the Scandinavian nobility—Norwegian as you know—but the Norwegian royal family is all mixed up in its history and its politics with the Swedish nobility, and the Danish especially.”

“Nobility?” Czar repeated the word, dully, as though not quite hearing. He did not, in fact, understand what Thor was trying to tell him. “What d’you mean—nobility?”

“I was nowhere in line for the crown, I don’t mean that. But I was a student, I wanted only to study and know. Everyone knew that Oscar would resign in time—–”