What should I tell her? My thoughts are chaotic. "I'm thinking that the Barren Glacier seems to be an unhealthy place to visit," I say.

We've been sitting in silence for a while; we've finished our tea and eaten our cookies and looked at the world lying at our feet, snow-covered and mundane.

And there's even a swath of sunshine cutting across Solsorte Road and the soccer field at the school on Due Road. But the whole time I am positive that she has more to tell.

"Councilor Ebel died in 1964," she says. "Everyone says that an epoch in Danish financial life died with him. In his will he demanded that his Rolls-Royce be sunk in the North Atlantic, while the Swedish actor Gosta Ekman recited Hamlet's soliloquy on the deck of the ship."

I can just picture the scene. This funeral could be considered a symbol of a political death and resurrection. The old, blatantly colonial policy in Greenland was abandoned at this time. Making room for the policies of the sixties-the educating of Northern Danes to equal rights. "The corporation was reorganized. We noticed it because there was a new office manager and two new women in bookkeeping. But otherwise the greatest changes were in the research department. That's because the cryolite was almost exhausted. They were constantly having to develop new methods of sorting and extraction because the quality of the ore was getting poorer and poorer. But we all knew what was going on. Occasionally, during lunch in the cafeteria, rumors would circulate about a new find. It was like a temporary fever. After a few days the rumors were always disavowed. Originally there were only. five people on the laboratory staff. It was expanded. At one time there were twenty. Earlier, additional geologists had been hired for brief periods. They often came from Finland. But now a permanent research group was created. Then, in 1967, they formed the Advisory Scientific Commission. This made the daily work more secretive. We were told very little. But it was created to find new deposits. It was made up of representatives from some of the big companies and institutions that the corporation worked with. The Swedish Diamond Drilling Company, Denmark's Underground, Inc., the Geologic Institute, Greenland's Geologic Survey. That complicated the bookkeeping. Things were more difficult because of the many new fees, the numerous expedition expenses. And all along I thought about the unresolved matter of the 115,000 kroner."

I ponder what it must have been like to be her, with her inordinate sense for numbers and her belief in honesty, having to work on a daily basis with someone she suspected of covering up an irregularity.

She gives me her own answer. " 'For there is nothing hid, which shall not be manifested; neither was any thing kept secret, but that it should come abroad.' Mark 4:22." Faith in divine justice has given her patience.

"In 1977 we were computerized. I never managed to understand it. At my request we continued to keep manual accounts. In 1992 I retired. Three weeks before my last workday we balanced the books. The finance director suggested that I leave this balance sheet to the office manager. I insisted on doing it myself. On January 7-exactly twenty-five years after the event I mentioned-I sat there with the books for the expedition to Gela Alta from the previous summer. It was like an omen. I took out the old accounts. I compared the two, item by item. This was difficult, of course. The expedition of '91 was financed through the Scientific Commission, which had become common practice. And yet it was possible to compare them. The biggest entry in '91 was for 450,000 kroner. I called the commission and requested an itemization."

She pauses, mastering her indignation.

"Later I received a letter which stated, briefly summarized, that I should not have gone over the heads of my immediate superiors with that type of request. But by then it was too late. Because on the telephone that day they had given me the answer. The 450,000 kroner had been used to charter a ship."

She sees that I don't understand a thing.

"A ship," she says, "a coaster, to transport eight men to the west coast of Greenland to pick up a few kilos of sample gemstones. It doesn't make sense. We often chartered the Disko from the Greenland Trading Company. To transport the cryolite. But a ship for a small expedition, that was unthinkable. Do you ever remember your dreams, Miss Smilla?"

"Sometimes."

"Recently I've dreamed several times that you were sent by Providence."

"You should hear what the police say about me." Like many elderly people, she has developed a selective sense of hearing. She ignores me and continues on her own track. "Perhaps you think I'm old. Perhaps you're wondering whether I'm senile. But remember, `Your old men shall dream dreams.'" She looks straight through me, straight through the wall. Straight into the past.

"I think that the 115,000 kroner in 1966 must have been used to charter a ship. I think that someone, under the guise of the Cryolite Corporation, has sent two expeditions to the west coast."

I hold my breath. With her honesty and her breach of a lifelong loyalty, this is a delicate moment.

"There can only be one explanation for this. At any rate, after forty-five years with the corporation, I cannot think of any other reason. They wanted to transport something back to Denmark, something so heavy that it required a ship."

I put on my cape. The black one with the hood that makes me look like a nun and that I thought would be suitable for the occasion.

"The Carlsberg Foundation financed part of the expedition in '91. In their accounts there is a fee for a Benedicte Clahn," I say.

She gazes, dreamy-eyed, straight ahead, as she pages through her complete, error-free internal account books. "In 1966, too," she says slowly. "A translator's fee of 267 kroner. That was also one of the entries I did not find an explanation for. But I remember her. She was one of the director's acquaintances. She had been living in Germany. I had the impression that they knew each other from Berlin in 1946. Immediately after the end of the war the Allies negotiated in Berlin regarding the division of aluminum supplies. A lot of people from the corporation were often down there during those years."

"Such as?"

"Ottesen was there. The director of sales. And Councilor Ebel."

"Any others?"

She's groggy from talking so much and from pouring out her heart into what might turn out to be the gutter. She wearily considers my question.

"I can't remember hearing about any others. Is it important?"

I shrug my shoulders. She takes hold of me. She can practically lift me off the floor. "The little boy's death. What are you planning to do?"

Denmark is a hierarchical society. She finds a mistake, and she complains to her boss. She is rejected. She complains to the board. She is rejected. But above the board sits Our Lord. She has turned to Him in prayer. Now she wants me to show that I am one of His assistants dispatched to help.

"That coaster. Did it sail off with what it went to get?"

She shakes her head. "That's hard to say. After the accident the survivors and their equipment were flown to Godthab and then home. I am positive about that because the accounting department paid for the freight and their plane tickets."

She follows me all the way out to the elevator. I feel a sudden tenderness for her. A motherly feeling, even though she is twice my age and three times as strong. The elevator arrives.

"Now don't let your honesty give you bad dreams," I say.

"I'm too old to regret anything."

Then I ride down. On my way out the front door, I suddenly think of something. When I call her up on the silver-plated conch shell, she answers as if she had been standing there waiting for my call.