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diff --git a/18789-h/18789-h.htm b/18789-h/18789-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5494215 --- /dev/null +++ b/18789-h/18789-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16789 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Swirling Waters, by Max Rittenberg + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + ul {list-style: none;} + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Swirling Waters, by Max Rittenberg + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Swirling Waters + +Author: Max Rittenberg + +Release Date: July 8, 2006 [EBook #18789] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SWIRLING WATERS *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> + +<h1>SWIRLING WATERS</h1> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> +<h4>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</h4> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">The Mind-Reader, being some pages from +the life of Dr Xavier Wycherley, psychologist +and mental healer.</span></p> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">The Cockatoo.</span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>SWIRLING WATERS</h1> + +<h2><span style="font-size:50%;">BY</span><br /> + +MAX RITTENBERG</h2> + +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF<br /> +"THE MIND-READER," "THE COCKATOO," ETC.</p> + +<p class="center">SECOND EDITION</p> + +<p class="center">METHUEN & CO. LTD.<br /> +36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br /> +LONDON</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>First Published</td><td align='left'>July 3rd 1913</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Second Edition</td><td align='left'>August 1913</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class='center'> +TO<br /> +<br /> +MY DEAR MOTHER<br /> +<br /> +WHOSE ADVICE AND CRITICISM HAVE HELPED SO<br /> +GREATLY IN MY WORK, AND ESPECIALLY IN THE<br /> +MAKING OF THIS BOOK; WHOSE COMPANIONSHIP<br /> +HAS BEEN A CONSTANT INSPIRATION TO ME<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='right'>CHAP.</td><td> </td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">The Whirlpool</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">A £5,000,000 Deal</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Shadowed</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">On the Scent of a Mystery</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">The First Move in the Game</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">The Beginning of a New Life</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">A Seat by the Arena</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Who and where is Rivière?</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">At Monte Carlo</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Larssen turns another Corner</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">A Letter From Rivière</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">The Second Meeting</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">At the Maison Carrée</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">By the Druids' Tower</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Waiting the Verdict</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Only Pity!</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">Rivière is Called Back</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">Not Wanted!</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">A Throne-Room</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">Beaten to Earth</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">The Bolted Door</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">The Chameleon Mind</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">Larssen's Man Once Again</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Confession</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">White Lilac</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">A Challenge</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">Women's Weapons</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">The Counter-Move</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">The Parting</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">Heir to a Throne</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">The Reins had Slipped</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">The New Scheme</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">Larssen's Appeal</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">On Board the "Starlight"</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">Intervention</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI.</a></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">Finality</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_304">304</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#EPILOGUE">Epilogue</a></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + +<h1>SWIRLING WATERS</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE WHIRLPOOL</span></h2> + + +<p>On the crucial night of his career, 14 March, +191-, Clifford Matheson, financier, was +speeding in a taxi-cab to the Gare de Lyon.</p> + +<p>He was a clean-limbed man of thirty-seven. +There was usually a look of masterfulness in the +firm lines of his face, the straight, direct glance, +the stiff, close-cut moustache. But to-night his +eyes were tired, very tired. He leant back in a +corner of the cab with drooping shoulders as though +utterly world-weary.</p> + +<p>At the station his wife and father-in-law were +looking impatiently for his arrival. They stood +at the door of their <i>wagon-lit</i> in the Côte d'Azur +Rapide, searching the crowded platform for him. +It was now ten to eight, and the express was timed +to pull out of the Gare de Lyon at eight o'clock +sharp.</p> + +<p>"Late again!" growled Sir Francis Letchmere. +"Clifford makes a deuced casual sort of husband. +Bad form, you know!"</p> + +<p>Good form and bad form were the foot-rules by +which he measured mankind.</p> + +<p>Olive bit her lip. It galled her pride that Clifford<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +should not be early on the platform to see to her +comforts. The attentions of her father and maid +did not satisfy her; she wanted Clifford to be there +to fetch and carry for her.</p> + +<p>Pride was the keynote of her character. It was +pride and not love that had decided her, five years +before, to marry the financier. She had admired the +way in which he had slashed out for himself his +place in the world of London and Paris finance, +from his humble beginning as a clerk in a Montreal +broker's office. It ministered to her pride to be +the wife of a man who had plucked success from +the whirlpool of life. As to the methods by which +he had amassed his money, with these she was +not concerned. She knew, of course, that there +were many who had bitter things to say about +his methods.</p> + +<p>"Probably it's his brother who's delayed him," +said Olive, looking for an explanation which would +salve her <i>amour propre</i>. "They both seem to be +crazy over their rubbishy scientific experiments."</p> + +<p>"Who's this brother?"</p> + +<p>"I know scarcely anything about him. His +name's Rivière—he's a half-brother. He turns +up unexpectedly from the wilds of Canada, and +lives like a hermit, so Clifford tells me, in some +tumbledown villa outside Paris."</p> + +<p>"What's he like?"</p> + +<p>"I've never seen him."</p> + +<p>"What's the scientific experiment?"</p> + +<p>"Clifford told me something about it, but I forgot. +I wasn't interested in the slightest. No money +in it, I could see at once. I told Clifford so."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sir Francis tugged at his watch impatiently. +"He'll miss this train for certain!"</p> + +<p>"No; there he is!"</p> + +<p>Matheson was striding rapidly through the press +of people on the platform. He quickly caught +sight of his wife and father-in-law, and came up +with a gesture of apology.</p> + +<p>"Sorry I'm so late. Very sorry, too, I shan't +be able to travel with you to-night."</p> + +<p>"Experiment to finish?" queried Olive, with +an unconcealed note of contempt in her voice.</p> + +<p>"A very important business engagement for +this evening. Will you excuse me? I can follow +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Can't it wait?"</p> + +<p>"It's highly important."</p> + +<p>"There's the 'phone to speak over."</p> + +<p>"I have to come face to face with my man. +Surely, Olive, you can spare me for a day? Have +you everything you want for the journey?"</p> + +<p>"Who is the man?"</p> + +<p>"Lars Larssen," answered Matheson. He lowered +his voice slightly, though on the bustling railway +platform there was no likelihood of anyone listening +to the conversation.</p> + +<p>Sir Francis nodded his head. He was heavily +interested in company-promoting himself, as a +means of swelling an inadequate property income, +and Lars Larssen was a magic name.</p> + +<p>"Hudson Bay scheme?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, business before pleasure," he remarked +sententiously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<p>Olive cut in with a question. "Have you +finished your experiments with your brother?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Matheson evenly.</p> + +<p>"When will they be finished?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say. There's a great deal to be discussed +and planned."</p> + +<p>"Then bring him with you to-morrow. You +can plan together whatever it is you have to plan +at Monte. Besides, I want to see him."</p> + +<p>"John is a busy man," protested Matheson. +"I don't think he can leave his laboratory."</p> + +<p>"Give him my invitation, and make it a +pressing one," pursued Olive, careless of anything +but her own whim. "Tell him—tell him I particularly +want him to explain his experiments to me +himself."</p> + +<p>At this moment the little horn of departure +sounded its quaint note from the end of the platform, +and a porter hurried to lock the door of the +<i>wagon-lit</i>.</p> + +<p>"Have you everything you want for the +journey?" asked Matheson.</p> + +<p>"I have everything I want," replied his wife +coldly. "My father has seen to that.... Good-bye."</p> + +<p>She did not offer to kiss him, and he for his part +drew back into a shell of reserve. Many thoughts +were buzzing through his mind as they exchanged +the commonplaces of a railway station good-bye +from either side of a compartment window.</p> + +<p>Olive's last words were: "Remember, I'm +expecting you to bring your brother with you +to-morrow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<p>A very tired look was in Matheson's eyes, and +a weary droop on his shoulders, as the train pulled +out and he was left alone on the platform.</p> + +<p>Two Frenchmen whispered to one another about +him. "The milord Matheson, see you! The very +rich milord Matheson."</p> + +<p>"Ah, if I were only a rich man too!"</p> + +<p>"What would you do?"</p> + +<p>"I should <i>spend</i>. How I should spend!" He +licked his lips at the thought of the pleasures of +body that money could buy him.</p> + +<p>"I should <i>save</i>," said the other. "I should +make myself the richest man in the world. That +would be glorious!"</p> + +<p>These last words reached the ears of Matheson, +and set up a curious train of thought as he drove +in his cab to his office in the Rue Laffitte. The +words carried him back to a forest-clearing in the +backwoods of Ontario, where he and his half-brother +had made holiday camp some eighteen years before. +They were comparing ambitions—two young men +unusually alike in features but very different in +temperament and will-power. John Rivière, the +elder of the two, was dreaming of fame in the paths +of science—he had worked his way through M'Gill +University and was hoping for a demonstratorship +to keep him in living expenses. Clifford +Matheson, a clerk in a broker's office, planned his +life in terms of cities and money. "To make big +money—that's what I call success."</p> + +<p>In the rapids of the stream by their feet was a +swirl of waters covering a sunken rock, and Rivière +had thrown on to it a chip of wood. The chip was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +whirled round and round, nearer and nearer to +the centre, until finally it was sucked under with +a sudden extinguishment.</p> + +<p>"There's the life you plan," he had said to +Clifford....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">A £5,000,000 DEAL</span></h2> + + +<p>When Matheson reached his office, he +was told by a clerk that Mr Lars Larssen +was already waiting to see him. He +threw off his gloves and fur-lined coat and adjusted +the lights before he answered that his visitor could +be shown in. He added that the clerk could lock +up his own rooms and leave, as he would not be +wanted any longer that evening.</p> + +<p>There was a quiet simplicity in Matheson's office +that one would scarcely associate with the operations +of high finance. One might have looked +for costly furnishings and an atmosphere redolent +of big money. Yet here was a simple rosewood +desk with a bowl of mimosa on it, and around the +walls were a few simple landscapes from recent +<i>salons</i>.</p> + +<p>If Lars Larssen were a magic name to Sir Francis +Letchmere, it was a magic name also to many +other men of affairs. From cabin-boy to millionaire +shipowner was his story in brief. But that does +not tell one quarter. The son of Scandinavian +immigrants to the States, factory-workers, he had +run away to sea at the age of fourteen, with the +call of the ocean ringing in his ears from the Viking +inheritance that was his. But on this was super<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>posed +the fierce desire for success that formed the +psychical atmosphere of the new American environment. +As a boy in the smoke-blackened +factory town, he had breathed in the longing to +make money—big money—to use men to his own +ends, to be a master of masters.</p> + +<p>With precocious insight he quickly learnt that +money is made not by those who go out upon the +waters, but by those who stay on land and send +them hither and thither. He soon gave up the +seafaring life and entered a shipbroker's office. +He starved himself in order to save money to +speculate in shipping reinsurance. An uncanny +insight had guided him to rush in when shrewdly +prudent business men held aloof.</p> + +<p>He had emphatically "made good." Each fresh +success had given him new confidence in himself +and his judgment and his powers. He would +allow nothing to stand in his path. Scruples +were to him the burden of fools.</p> + +<p>A fair-haired giant in build, with inscrutable +eyes and mouth set grim and straight—such was +Lars Larssen.</p> + +<p>Though Matheson was in no way a small +man, yet he seemed somehow dwarfed when +Larssen entered the room. The financier was +a self-made master, but the shipowner was a <i>born</i> +master of men—perhaps one's instinctive contrast +lay there. The one had the strength of finished +steel, but the other was rugged granite.</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen said quietly: "Your letter brought +me over to Paris. I don't usually waste time in +railway trains myself when I have men I can pay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +to do it for me. So you can judge that I consider +your letter mighty important."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry if you have given yourself an unnecessary +journey," returned Matheson. "I had +intended my letter to make my attitude clear to +you."</p> + +<p>"Then you missed fire."</p> + +<p>"My attitude is simply this: I want to call the +deal off."</p> + +<p>"Not enough in it for you?" cut in Larssen.</p> + +<p>"Not enough in it for the public."</p> + +<p>The shipowner surveyed the other man through +half-closed lids, weighing up how far this declaration +might be a genuine expression of opinion and +how far a mere excuse to cover some hidden motive.</p> + +<p>"Talk it longer," he said.</p> + +<p>For reply Matheson drew out a large-scale map +of Canada from a drawer and unfolded it with a +decisive deliberation. He laid a finger on the +south-western corner of Hudson Bay. "Here is +Fanning trading station, the terminus of your +five-hundred-mile railway. The land you run it +over is mostly lakes, rivers, and frozen swamps +for three-quarters of the year. The line is useless +except for your own purpose—to carry wheat for +the Hudson Bay steamship route to England. +You agree?"</p> + +<p>"Agreed." Larssen was not the man to waste +argument over minor points when a vital matter +was under discussion.</p> + +<p>"Then the scheme centres on the practicability +of making the arctic Hudson Bay passage a commercial +highway. It means the creating of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +modern port at Fanning. It means the lighting of a +whole coast-line"—his finger travelled to the north +of Hudson Bay and the northern coast of Labrador—"before +a cargo of wheat leaves Port Fanning."</p> + +<p>"I'll build lighthouses myself by the dozen if +the Canadian Government won't. I'll equip every +one with long-range wireless."</p> + +<p>"The cost will be tremendous."</p> + +<p>"There will be a differential of sixpence a bushel +on wheat over my route. That talks down fifty +lighthouses."</p> + +<p>"But it makes no allowance for rate-cutting +by the big men on the present routes. Further, +if the Canadian Government are not with you on +this scheme, they'll be against you. There are +a dozen ways in which you might be frozen out. +In that case the Hudson Bay Route will be the +biggest fiasco that ever happened."</p> + +<p>"Nothing I've yet touched has been a fiasco," +answered Lars Larssen with a grim tightening of +jaw. "Leave that end to me.... Now your +end is to get the money."</p> + +<p>"From the English and Canadian public."</p> + +<p>"Naturally."</p> + +<p>"You came to me because the English and +Canadian public are prejudiced against 'Yankee +propositions.' You yourself couldn't float it in +England. On the other hand, I'm Canadian-born, +and my name carries weight both in England and +in Canada."</p> + +<p>"With the public," added Larssen, and there +was a subtle emphasis on the word "public," which +carried a world of hidden meaning. Matheson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +had been associated with other schemes which +had a bad odour in the nostrils of City men.</p> + +<p>"With the public who provide the capital," +answered the financier, and his emphasis was on +the word "capital." He continued. "With myself +and Sir Francis Letchmere and a few titled +dummies on the Board—which is what you want +from me—the public will tumble over one another +to take up stock."</p> + +<p>"Agreed."</p> + +<p>"The capitalization you propose is £5,000,000 +in Ordinary £1 Shares, which the public will mostly +take up. Also £200,000 in Deferred Shares of the +nominal value of one shilling each, which are to be +allotted to yourself as vendor. That gives you +four million votes out of a total of nine million, +and for practical purposes means control."</p> + +<p>"The Deferred Shares are not to get a cent of +dividend until a fifteen per cent. dividend is paid +on the Ordinary Shares. That's the squarest deal +for the public that ever was," retorted Larssen.</p> + +<p>"But <i>you</i> hold <i>control</i>."</p> + +<p>Both men knew the tremendous import of that +word. The fortunes of the world's financial giants +have all been built up on "control." Dwarfing +"capital" and "credit" it stands—that word +"control." If the wild gamble of the Hudson +Bay scheme were to rush through to commercial +success—if the limitless wheat-lands of Canada +were to pour their mighty torrent of life into Europe +through the channel of Hudson Bay—it would be +Lars Larssen who would hold the key of the sluice-gate. +Directly, he would be master of the wheat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +of Canada. Indirectly, he could turn his master-position +to financial gain in scores of ways. The +£200,000 to be allotted him as vendor was a bagatelle; +but to hold four million votes out of nine +million was to control an empire.</p> + +<p>He replied evenly: "I keep control on any +proposition I touch. That's creed with me. +<i>Creed.</i>"</p> + +<p>"We split on that," answered Matheson.</p> + +<p>"You want control for yourself?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then what is it you do want?"</p> + +<p>"I want half the Deferred Shares in the hands +of Lord ——." He named a Canadian statesman +and empire-builder whose integrity was beyond +all suspicion. "I want him to hold them as trustee +for the ordinary shareholders. He will consent +if I ask him."</p> + +<p>"No doubt he will!" commented Larssen +ironically. He drew up his chair closer to the +other man. There was a dangerous gleam in his +eye as he said: "Now see here. All the points +you've put up were known to you months ago. +What's happened to make you switch at the last +moment?"</p> + +<p>He had put his finger on the very core of the +matter, but Matheson met his searching gaze +without flinching. "What's happened is an +entirely private matter. I've reasons for not +wishing to be associated with your scheme unless +you agree to half the Deferred Shares being held +by Lord —— as trustee. These reasons of mine +have only arisen during the last few weeks. Cir<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>cumstances +are different with me from what they +were when you first broached the plan. If you +don't care to agree to my suggestion, I call the +deal off. As regards the expenses you've incurred, +I'll go halves."</p> + +<p>For comment, the shipowner flicked thumb and +forefinger together.</p> + +<p>"No, I'll do more," pursued Matheson. "I'll +make you a more than fair offer—shoulder the +whole expenses myself."</p> + +<p>Larssen ignored the offer. "I went into the +preliminaries of the scheme on the understanding +that we were to pull together."</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>"It means big money for you—enough to retire +on."</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>"Then what the hell's the reason for this sudden +attack of scruples?"</p> + +<p>For a moment Matheson's eyes blazed black +anger, but the anger died out of them and the +tired look of the platform of the Gare de Lyon +took its place. "You wouldn't understand," he +answered. "The whirlpool."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"It would be useless to explain. I have private +reasons.... I've made you a thoroughly fair +offer, and I don't think there's anything more to +be said." Matheson rose and walked to the window, +pulling up the blind and gazing out on the sombre +splendour of the big banking houses of the Rue +Laffitte and the Rue Pillet-Will.</p> + +<p>Larssen looked at the silhouette of his anta<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>gonist +with a tense set of his jaws. Many plans +were revolving in his mind. Moralists might have +labelled them "blackmail," but Lars Larssen was +utterly free from scruples where his own interests +were concerned. Honesty with him was a mere +matter of policy. To a man with the average +sense of honour, such an attitude of mind is scarcely +realisable, but Lars Larssen was no normal man. +In him the Napoleonic madness—or genius—burned +fiercely. He had ambitions colossal in +scale—he regarded his present wealth and power +as a mere stepping-stone to the realisation of his +Great Idea.</p> + +<p>That great ultimate purpose of his life he had +never revealed to man or woman—save only to +his dead wife. He aimed to be controlling owner +of the world's carrying trade; to hold decision +on peace and war between nation and nation +because of that control of the vital food supply. +To be Emperor of the Seven Seas.</p> + +<p>He had one child only—his boy Olaf, now aged +twelve, at school in the States. Olaf was to hold the +seat of power after him and perpetuate his dynasty.</p> + +<p>That was Larssen's life-dream.</p> + +<p>Any man or woman who stood between him and +his great goal was to be thrust aside or used as a +stepping-stone. Matheson, for instance—he was +to be <i>used</i>. There must be something underlying +Matheson's sudden access of scruples—what was +it? A case of <i>cherchez la femme</i>? Or political +ambitions, perhaps? If he could arrive at the +motive, it might open up a new avenue for persuasion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>He searched the silhouette of the man at the +window for an answer to the riddle. But Matheson's +face was set, and the answer to the riddle +was such as Lars Larssen could never have guessed. +It lay outside the shipowner's pale of thought—beyond +the limitations of his mind.</p> + +<p>For Matheson also had his big life-scheme, and +it now filled his mind with a blaze of light as he +stood by the window, silent.</p> + +<p>Larssen resolved to play for time while he set +to work to ferret out his antagonist's motive for +the sudden change of plan. He did not dream +for a moment of relinquishing control on the Hudson +Bay scheme. As he had stated openly, control +was <i>creed</i> to him.</p> + +<p>He broke the long silence with a conciliatory +remark. "Let's think matters over for a day or +two. My scheme might be modified on the financial +side. I'm prepared to make concessions to what +you think is fair to the shareholders. We shall +find some common ground of agreement."</p> + +<p>The smooth words did not deceive Matheson. +So his answer came with deliberate finality: "I've +said my last word."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll consider it carefully. Meanwhile, +doing anything to-night? I hear that Polaire +is on at the Folies Bergères with her opium-den +scene. A thriller, I'm told."</p> + +<p>Theatres and music-halls were nothing to the +shipowner; his idea was to keep Matheson under +observation if possible, and try to solve the riddle.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, but I've got to get away from Paris," +answered Matheson with his tired droop of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +shoulders. "I have to join my wife and father-in-law +at Monte Carlo."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, I'll say good-bye for the +present."</p> + +<p>When Larssen had left the office, he hurried +into a taxi and was whirled to the Grand Hotel +near at hand. Here he found his secretary turning +over the illustrated papers in the hall lounge, +and gave a few curt directions. "Drive round +to the Rue Laffitte—a hurry case. On the second +floor of No. 8 is the office of Clifford Matheson. +He may be still there—you'll know by the light +in the window. Wait till he comes out, and follow +him. Find out where he goes. If it's to a woman's +house—good. In any case shadow him to-night +wherever he goes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">SHADOWED</span></h2> + + +<p>Matheson, alone in his office, thought +deeply for a long while, pacing to and +fro, grappling with a life-decision. To +and fro, from door to windows, from windows to +door, he paced, until the narrow confines of the +office thrust at him subconsciously and drove him +to the open streets.</p> + +<p>At his desk he made out a cheque in favour of +Lars Larssen to the amount of twenty thousand +pounds, enclosed it with a brief note in an addressed +envelope, and put it away in a drawer. +It was shortly after eleven when he took up his +hat, fur-lined coat and heavy gold-mounted stick, +clicked out the lights, and made his way down +to the Rue Laffitte.</p> + +<p>At the corner of the Rue Laffitte he passed a +young man lounging in the shadows, who presently +turned and followed him at a sober distance. +Matheson made up towards the heights of Montmartre, +crowned by the white Basilique of the +Sacred Heart. The great church stood out in cold +white beauty—serene and pure—above the feverish +glitter of Paris. Up there a man might attune +himself to the message of the stars—might weigh +duty against duty in the balance of the infinite.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>He walked deep in thought, with shoulders +drooping.</p> + +<p>Beyond the clamorous glitter of the Place Pigalle, +with its garish entertainment halls and all-night +restaurants, there is a dark, narrow, winding lane +ascending steeply to the great white sentinel church +on the heights. Up this Matheson strode, still +deep in thought, and his shadower followed. But, +half-way up, a new factor cut sharply into the +situation. Out of a <i>ruelle</i> crept two <i>apaches</i> with +the stealthy glide of their class. One followed +close behind Clifford Matheson, while the other +stopped to watch the lane against the possible +arrival of an <i>agent de police</i>.</p> + +<p>The young man who had followed from the Rue +Laffitte paused irresolute. On the one hand were +his orders to shadow Matheson wherever he might +go that night; on the other hand was his personal +safety. He was keenly alive to the merciless +ferocity of the Parisian <i>apache</i>, and he was unarmed. +The wicked curved knife doubtless concealed +under the belt of the <i>apache</i> turned the +scale decisively in the mind of the shadower. He +saw no call to risk his own life.</p> + +<p>He gave up and retraced his steps, leaving +Matheson to his fate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">ON THE SCENT OF A MYSTERY</span></h2> + + +<p>The name of the young man who had +shadowed Matheson was Arthur Dean, and +his position in life was that of a clerk in +the Leadenhall Street office of Lars Larssen. The +latter had brought him over to Paris as temporary +secretary because the confidential secretary had +happened to be ill and away from business at the +moment when Matheson's letter arrived.</p> + +<p>Young Dean bitterly repented his cowardice +before he was five minutes distant from the narrow +lane on the heights of Montmartre.</p> + +<p>Not only had he left a fellow-countryman to +possible violence and robbery, but his action would +inevitably recoil on himself. To be even a temporary +secretary to the great shipowner was a +chance, an opportunity that most young business +men of twenty-four would eagerly grasp at. He +was throwing away his chance by this cowardly +disobedience to orders—Lars Larssen was not the +man to forgive an offence of that kind.</p> + +<p>Dean turned on his tracks and again crossed +the Place Pigalle. The lane behind was deserted. +He mounted it and searched eagerly. His search +was fruitless. Matheson was nowhere visible—nor +the two <i>apaches</i>. To what had happened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +in that interval of ten minutes there was no +clue.</p> + +<p>The young fellow did not dare to go back to the +Grand Hotel and report his failure. He wandered +about aimlessly and miserably, until a flaunting +poster outside an all-night <i>café chantant</i> caught +his eye and decided him to enter and kill time +until some plan for retrieving his failure might +occur to him.</p> + +<p>As he entered the swinging doors a cheery hand +was laid on his shoulders. "Hullo, old man! +Hail and thrice hail!"</p> + +<p>"Jimmy!" There was a note of pleasure in +the young man's voice.</p> + +<p>"The same," confirmed Jimmy Martin. He +was a tubby, clean-shaven, rosy-faced little fellow +of thirty odd, with an inexhaustible fund of good +spirits. Everyone called him "Jimmy." Dean +had known him as a reporter on a London daily +paper and a fellow-member of a local dramatic +society in Streatham.</p> + +<p>"Why are you here?" asked Dean.</p> + +<p>"Strictly on business, my gay young spark. +My present owners, the <i>Europe Chronicle</i>, bless +their dear hearts, want to know if La Belle +Ariola"—he waved his hand towards a poster +which showed chiefly a toreador hat, a pair +of flashing eyes, and a whirl of white draperies—"is +engaged or no to the Prince of Sardinia. +I find the maiden coy, not to say secretive——"</p> + +<p>"I wish you could help me," interrupted Dean +eagerly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If four francs seventy will do it—my worldly +possessions until next pay-day——"</p> + +<p>"No, no, this is quite different." He drew +Martin outside into the street and whispered. +"To-night, as I happen to know, an Englishman +walking along a back street by the Place Pigalle +was followed by two <i>apaches</i>."</p> + +<p>"A week-end tripper, or somebody with a +flourish at each end of his name?"</p> + +<p>"Somebody worth while. Now I want to know +particularly if anything happened."</p> + +<p>Martin nodded in full understanding. "Come +along to the office about ten to-morrow morning, +and I'll tell you if anything's been fired in from +the <i>gendarmeries</i> or the hospitals. What did you +say the man's name was?"</p> + +<p>Dean shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Imitaciong oyster?" commented Martin cheerfully. +"Very well, see you to-morrow. Meanwhile, +be good. Flee the giddy lure. Go home +to your little bed and sleep sweet." There +was seriousness under his good-natured banter. +"Come along and I'll see you as far as the bullyvards."</p> + +<p>Arthur Dean went with him, but did not return +to the Grand Hotel. He found a small hotel for +the night, and next morning at ten o'clock he was +at the office of the <i>Europe Chronicle</i>, an important +daily paper published simultaneously in Paris, +Frankfort, and Florence.</p> + +<p>Martin came out from the news room into the +adjoining ante-room with a slip of "flimsy" in +his hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Was your man hefty with the shillelagh?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"He carried a big, gold-mounted stick."</p> + +<p>"Then here's your bird." He read out from +the slip of paper: "Last night, shortly after +twelve, a certain Gaspard P—— was brought to +the Hôpital Malesherbes suffering from a fractured +skull. This morning, on recovering consciousness, +he states that he was attacked without cause +by a drunken Englishman, and struck over the +head with a heavy stick. His state is grave."</p> + +<p>Dean felt a warm wave of relief. He thanked +the journalist cordially and was about to leave, +when the telephone bell rang sharply in the adjoining +news room. The sub-editor in charge +took up the receiver.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ullo, ullo! C'est ici le Chronicle</i>," said the +sub-editor, and after listening for a moment signed +imperatively to Martin to come in and shut the +door.</p> + +<p>Presently Martin came out from the news room +bustling with energy and took Dean by the arm. +"You specified two <i>apaches</i>, didn't you?" he +asked, and hurried on without waiting for an +answer. "One was probably the injured innocence +now at the Malesherbes and cursing those +<i>sacrés Angliches</i>, but the other lies low and says +nuffink. That's the one that interests me. Come +along in my taxi and watch me chase a story."</p> + +<p>Stopping only to borrow fifty francs for expenses +from the cashier's wicket, Martin hurried his friend +into a taximeter cab and gave the brief direction: +"Pont de Neuilly."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>Three-quarters of an hour later they had reached +the bridge at the end of the long avenue of +the suburb of Neuilly and had dismissed the +cab.</p> + +<p>"Now for our imitaciong Sherlock Holmes," +said Martin. "The 'phone message was that a +man had found a fur coat and a gold-mounted stick +under some bushes by the left bank of the Seine +four hundred metres down stream. He was apparently +some sort of workman, and explained +that he had no wish to be mixed up with the police. +On the other hand, he felt he had to do his duty +by the civilization that provides him with a blue +blouse, bread, and bock, so he 'phoned the news +to us.... Wish everyone was as sensible," he +added, viewing the matter from a professional standpoint.</p> + +<p>Three hundred yards down, they began to look +very carefully amongst the bushes that line the +water's edge. It was not long before they came +to the object of their search. Under an alder-bush +they found it—a heavy fur-lined coat sodden +with the river water, and a gold-mounted stick.</p> + +<p>The maker's name had been cut out of the overcoat; +its pockets were empty.</p> + +<p>Martin held it up. "Did this belong to your +man?" he asked, as though sure of the answer.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Dean decisively.</p> + +<p>The journalist whisked around in complete surprise +and looked at him keenly. "<i>Sure?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Positive. There was astrakhan on the collar +and cuffs of the coat my man was wearing."</p> + +<p>"And this stick?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It looks much the same kind, but then there +are thousands of sticks like this in use."</p> + +<p>The stout little journalist looked pathetically +disappointed. For the moment he had no thought +beyond the professional aspect of the matter—the +unearthing of a "good story"—and the human +significance of what he had found was entirely +out of mind. He turned over the coat and stick +in obvious perplexity, as though they ought somehow +to contain the key to the puzzle if only he +could see it. Then he examined the traces of +footsteps on the damp earth by the water-side. +There was another set of footprints beside their own—no +doubt the footprints of the man who had +first found the objects and 'phoned to the <i>Chronicle</i>.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do next?" asked the +young clerk.</p> + +<p>"Take them to the police?"</p> + +<p>Martin looked up and down the river bank. +That part of the Seine is usually deserted except +for nursemaids and children and an occasional +workman. At the moment there was apparently +no one in sight.</p> + +<p>"You don't know the Paris police—that's +evident," returned the journalist. "They would +throw fits on the floor if I were so much as to carry +off a coat-button. No, we must hide the coat +and stick in the bushes again, and tell them +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Why to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-four hours' start is due to my owners, +bless their sensational little hearts. If nothing +further comes to light, then the press steps aside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +and allows the law to take its course. Meanwhile +to the Morgue and the Malesherbes. We'll pick +up a cab on the Avenue de Neuilly. Newspaper +life, my young friend, is one dam taxi after another."</p> + +<p>The Morgue is, of course, no longer the public +peep-show that it used to be, but Martin's card +procured him instant admission. On the inclined +marble slabs, down which ice water gently trickles, +were two ghastly white figures of women which +had been waiting identification for some days. +The object of their search was not at the Morgue.</p> + +<p>They proceeded across Paris to the Hôpital +Malesherbes, but at the Place de l'Opera Dean +asked to be put down. The journalist promised +to 'phone to the Grand Hotel if anything of interest +came to light, and Arthur Dean went to +make his report to Lars Larssen. It was already +past mid-day, and without doubt the shipowner +would be impatient to hear news.</p> + +<p>Only stopping at a telephone call office for a +few minutes, Dean hurried to his employer's suite +of rooms.</p> + +<p>"Well?" asked Lars Larssen.</p> + +<p>"To begin at the beginning, sir, I waited last +night in the Rue Laffitte until Mr Matheson came +out of his office. It was not long before he appeared, +and then——"</p> + +<p>The shipowner interrupted curtly. "I want +the heart of the matter."</p> + +<p>Dean gulped and answered: "I believe Mr +Matheson has been murdered."</p> + +<p>"Believe! Do you <i>know</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't know for certain, sir; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +this morning I assisted at the finding of his coat +and stick on the banks of the Seine."</p> + +<p>"Sure they were his?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite sure. I was with a journalist friend +of mine, but I didn't let him know that I recognized +the coat and stick. I thought perhaps you would +like me to tell you before the matter was made +public."</p> + +<p>"Good! Now give me the full story."</p> + +<p>Arthur Dean summoned up his nerve to tell the +connected tale he had thought out during the long +cab rides that morning. It was essential that he +should disguise his cowardice and his failure to +carry out orders of the night before. With that +exception, his account was a truthful and detailed +story of all that had happened. He concluded +with:—</p> + +<p>"I 'phoned up Mr Matheson's office—without +telling my name—and asked if he was in or had +been to the office this morning. They said no. +I got his hotel address from them and 'phoned +the hotel. They also could tell me nothing about +Mr Matheson."</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen paced the room in silence for some +time. Finally he shot out a question.</p> + +<p>"Your salary is?"</p> + +<p>"£100 a year, sir."</p> + +<p>"Engaged, or likely to be?"</p> + +<p>The young man blushed deeply as he replied: +"I hope to be shortly."</p> + +<p>"You can't marry on two pound a week."</p> + +<p>"I am hoping to get promotion in the office, +and then——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you understand how to get promotion?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, sir. I intend to work hard and study +the details of the business outside my own department, +and learn Spanish as well as French——"</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen flicked thumb and finger together +contemptuously. "The men I pay real money +to are not that kind of men."</p> + +<p>Arthur Dean looked in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Now see here," pursued the shipowner, fixing +his eyes deep into the young man's, "why did you +lie to me just now?"</p> + +<p>Dean went deathly white, and began to falter +a denial.</p> + +<p>"Don't lie any further! Something happened +last night that you haven't told me of. I know, +because you brought in no report last night. Out +with it!"</p> + +<p>Under that merciless look the young clerk made +a clean breast of the matter. His voice shook +as he realized that it probably meant instant dismissal +for him. Here was the end of all his hopes.</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen made no comment until the last +details had been faltered out. Then he said +abruptly: "I propose to raise you £300 a year."</p> + +<p>Dean stared at him in silent amazement.</p> + +<p>"£300 a year is good salary for a young man. +If I pay it, I want it earned. Now understand +this: what I want in my men is absolute loyalty, +absolute obedience to orders, and absolute truthfulness +to me. Lie to others if you like—that's +no concern of mine—but not to me. Further, +understand what orders mean. If I tell you to +do a thing, I am wholly responsible for its outcome.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +The responsibility is not yours—it's mine. Got +that?"</p> + +<p>"It's very generous of you to give me such a +chance, sir. It's much more than I have the right +to expect. You can count on my loyalty and +obedience to the utmost—of course, provided +that——"</p> + +<p>"The men I want to raise in my employ, and +the men I have raised, leave fine scruples to me. +That's my end. Your end is to carry out orders. +If you're going to set store on niceties of truthfulness +when business interests demand otherwise, +you'll remain a two-pound-a-week clerk all your +life."</p> + +<p>Dean's weakness of moral fibre had been shrewdly +weighed up by Larssen. The young man was +plastic clay to be moulded by a firm grasp. £300 +a year opened out to him a vista of roseate possibilities. +£300 a year was his price.</p> + +<p>The colour came and went in his face as he +thought out the meaning of what his employer +had just said. At length he answered: "I owe +you many thanks, sir. What do you want me +to do?"</p> + +<p>"Understand this: £300 a year is your starting +salary. If I find you after trial to be the man I +think you are, you can look forward to bigger +money.... Now my point lies here; Mr Matheson +was engaged with me in a large-scale enterprise. +Alive, he would have been useful to me. I intend +to keep him alive!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE FIRST MOVE IN THE GAME</span></h2> + + +<p>At the great Leadenhall Street office of the +shipowner, an office which bore outside +the simple sign—ostentatious in its simplicity—of +"Lars Larssen—Shipping," Arthur +Dean had looked upon his employer from afar as +some demi-god raised above other business men +by mysterious gifts from heaven. A modern +Midas with the power of turning what he touched +to gold.</p> + +<p>Now he was granted an intimate glimpse into +the workings of his employer's mind that came +to him as a positive revelation. Larssen's were +no mysterious powers, but the powers that every +man possessed worked at white heat and with an +extraordinary swiftness and exactitude. The +revelation did not sweep away the glamour; on +the contrary, it increased it. Lars Larssen was +a craftsman taking up the commonest tools of his +craft and using them to create a work of art of +consummate build.</p> + +<p>His present work was to keep alive the personality +of Clifford Matheson until the Hudson +Bay scheme should be launched. To use Matheson's +name on the prospectus, and to use his influence +with Sir Francis Letchmere and others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +Dead, Matheson was to serve him better than +alive.</p> + +<p>But the shipowner did not build his edifice on the +foundation merely of what Arthur Dean had told +him. He had to satisfy himself more accurately.</p> + +<p>A string of rapid, apparently unconnected orders +almost bewildered the young secretary:—</p> + +<p>"First, get a list of the big hotels at Monte Carlo. +Engage the trunk telephone and call up each +hotel until you find where Sir Francis Letchmere +is staying. Give no name.... Buy a pair of +workman's boots to fit you. Get them in some +side street shop. Bring them with you—don't +ask them to send.... Take this typewriting"—he +took a letter from his pocket and carefully +clipped off a small portion—"and match it with +a portable travelling machine. Can you recognize +the make of machine off-hand?"</p> + +<p>Dean examined the portion of typed matter, +and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You must train yourself to observe detail. +Looks to me like the type on a 'Thor' machine. +Try the Thor Co. first. If not there, go to every +typewriter firm in Paris until it matches.... Go +to the offices of the Compagnie Transatlantique +and get a list of sailings on the Cherbourg-Quebec +route. Give no name.... Meanwhile, 'phone +your journalist friend and have him call on +me."</p> + +<p>"What reason shall I give him, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Anything that will pull him here. Tell him +I'm willing to be interviewed on the proposed +international agreement about maritime contra<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>band +in time of war. Quite sure you remember +all my orders?"</p> + +<p>"I think so, sir."</p> + +<p>"Repeat them."</p> + +<p>The young man did so.</p> + +<p>"Good!"</p> + +<p>Dean flushed with pleasure at the commendation.</p> + +<p>"Had lunch yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet."</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen smiled as he said: "Well, postpone +lunch till to-night, or eat while you're hustling +around in cabs. This is a hurry case. Here's +an advance fifty pounds to keep you in expense +money."</p> + +<p>As the crisp notes were put into his hand, Arthur +Dean felt that he was indeed on the ladder which +led to business status and wealth. His thoughts +went out to a little girl in Streatham who was +waiting, he knew, till he could ask her to be his +wife. If Daisy could see how he was being taken +into his employer's confidence!</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen startled him with a remark that +savoured of thought-reading. "My three-hundred-a-year +men," he said, "don't write home about +business matters."</p> + +<p>"I quite understand, sir."</p> + +<p>Later in the afternoon, Jimmy Martin of the +<i>Europe Chronicle</i> sent in his card at the Grand +Hotel, and Lars Larssen did not keep him waiting +beyond a few moments.</p> + +<p>The tubby little journalist was no hero-worshipper. +Few journalists can be—they see too +intimately the strings which work the affairs of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +the world for the edification of a trustful public. +Consequently, Martin's attitude in the presence +of the millionaire shipowner was as free from constraint +or subservience as it would be in the dressing-room +of La Belle Ariola, who danced the bolero +at a <i>café chantant</i>, or in the ward of the Malesherbes +Hôpital, interviewing an <i>apache</i> with a cracked +skull.</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen summed him up with lightning +rapidity of thought, and adjusted his own attitude +to a friendly, confidential basis.</p> + +<p>Said Martin: "You want to talk about contraband +of war? I'd better tell you the <i>Chronicle</i>'s +red-hot against the olive-branch merchants, so +I hope you're not one of them. Say you agree +with us, and I can spread you over half a column."</p> + +<p>The shipowner smiled. "That's the talk I +like. Make a policy and set the buzzer going. +Now see here...."</p> + +<p>At the end of half an hour he had established +a link of easy friendship, and had brought the conversation +round without difficulty to the matter +which was the real object of the interview.</p> + +<p>"Dean was telling me about the help you gave +him on his wild-goose chase to-day. Many thanks. +He's a steady young fellow and will get on—but +a little too ready to jump at conclusions. Of +course you found nothing at the hospital?"</p> + +<p>On the answer much depended, but no one could +have guessed it from the shipowner's face, which +was smilingly confident.</p> + +<p>"Nothing doing!" answered Martin. "Our +young friend with the cracked skull met the holy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +Tartar last night. He's raving sore—wants to +prosecute him for assault, if he can find out who +he is."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. But there's a disappointment in +store for him. I met my friend to-day going off +to Canada. What are you going to do about the +coat and stick at Neuilly?"</p> + +<p>"Hunt around for a few more clues before turning +it over to the police." There was a tired +disappointment in the journalist's voice that Lars +Larssen noted with keen satisfaction. "I doubt +if the police'll do much unless the relations kick +up a shindy. Paris is the finest place in Europe +to get murdered in peacefully and without a lot +of silly fuss. You see, it might be a hoax. Your +Parisian hoaxer likes a dash of Grand Guignol +horrors in his jokelet. The police have been had +several times, and they're very much hoax-shy. I +could tell you some pretty tales about mysterious +disappearances that never get into the papers."</p> + +<p>A little later the journalist took his departure. +As the great shipowner shook hands at the door, +he said cordially: "If you want news from me +when I'm in Paris any time, come straight to me. +I like your paper; I like your methods."</p> + +<p>Martin left without a suspicion that he had been +"pumped" for vital information.</p> + +<p>Now the shipowner had to wait patiently for +nightfall before the first definite move of his game +could be played. One of his secrets of success +was that he never allowed his mind to worry him. +He shut the matter completely out of his conscious +thoughts; got a trunk telephone call to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +London office; sent off some cables to his New +York office; and generally immersed himself on +business matters quite unrelated to the Matheson +case.</p> + +<p>It was nearly ten o'clock that night before Arthur +Dean returned from an errand on which he had +been sent. In his arms was a bulky brown-paper +parcel.</p> + +<p>He opened it in the privacy of his employer's +sitting-room, and remembering the advice given +him that morning as to the way to present a +business report, pointed silently to a small slit +in the side of the fur-lined coat, where it would +cover a man's ribs. On the inner lining of the coat +there was a dark stain around the slit, though the +immersion in the river had of course washed away +any definite blood-clot.</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen nodded appreciation of the young +fellow's method of going straight to the heart of +the subject. "Good!" said he. "Now for +details."</p> + +<p>"I carried out your orders exactly, sir. Took +a cab to Neuilly, dismissed it, put on the pair of +workman's boots when I was in the darkness of +the river bank, and found the coat and stick just +where Martin and I had hidden them in the bushes. +The trees make it quite dark along that part of the +Seine, and I am certain no one saw me taking +them and wrapping them in my brown paper. +The coat was nearly dry."</p> + +<p>"Did you find the stick broken?"</p> + +<p>"No. I broke it in two so that it could be +wrapped in the same parcel as the coat."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you examine footprints?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. The only ones around the bushes were +Martin's and mine made this morning, and the +prints of the man who first discovered them. Of +course my own prints this time were made by the +boots you told me to buy and put on."</p> + +<p>"What next?"</p> + +<p>"I went along the river bank for a couple of +miles with my parcel until I came to some other +suburb, and then I caught a cab to the Arc de +Triomphe, and there I took another cab to here."</p> + +<p>"The workman's boots?"</p> + +<p>"After I changed back to my ordinary boots, +I threw them in the river, as you told me to."</p> + +<p>"They sank?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing else worth reporting, I think.... +Do you recognize this coat and stick as belonging +to Mr Matheson, sir?"</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen nodded non-committally, and +ordered the young fellow to get a trunk telephone +call through to Sir Francis Letchmere at Monte +Carlo. Dean had already found out that he was +staying at the Hotel des Hespérides.</p> + +<p>But when the telephone connexion had been +made, it was Olive who answered from the other +end of the wire:—</p> + +<p>"This is Mrs Matheson. Who is speaking?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Larssen. I want Sir Francis Letchmere."</p> + +<p>"He's out just now. Shall I take your +message?"</p> + +<p>"Have you heard yet from your husband?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. Why?"</p> + +<p>"He's off to Canada. I thought he would have +wired you."</p> + +<p>"That's just like Clifford!" There was an +angry sharpness in the voice over the wire.</p> + +<p>"I reckon he was in too much of a hurry. It's +in connexion with the Hudson Bay scheme—you +know about that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Has anything gone wrong with it?" +Now there was anxiety in the voice.</p> + +<p>"A new situation has arisen. Your husband +suggested to me that he had better hurry across +the pond and straighten up matters." Larssen +lowered his voice. "Somebody in the Canadian +Government wants oiling. Of course he will have +to work the affair very quietly."</p> + +<p>"It's too annoying! Clifford had promised me +faithfully to come on to Monte by to-night's +train. I wanted him here."</p> + +<p>"That's rough on you!"</p> + +<p>"What message did you wish to give to my +father?"</p> + +<p>"About the Hudson Bay deal. I want to meet +Sir Francis and talk business."</p> + +<p>"You're not going to drag him back to Paris!"</p> + +<p>Again there was annoyance in her voice, and +Lars Larssen made a quick resolution. He +answered: "Certainly not, if you don't wish it. +Rather than that, I'll come myself to Monte."</p> + +<p>"That's charming of you!"</p> + +<p>"The least I can do. I'll wire later when to +expect me."</p> + +<p>"Many thanks."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the conversation had concluded, the shipowner +called the young secretary and asked him +to bring in the new "Thor" travelling typewriter +he had purchased that afternoon. Larssen had +proved right in his guess of the make of machine +with which his scrap of typing had been done.</p> + +<p>"Take a letter. Envelope first," said Larssen.</p> + +<p>"You want me to take it direct on the machine, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." The shipowner began to dictate. +"Monsieur G. R. Coulter, Rue Laffitte, 8, Paris.... +Now for the letter.... Cherbourg, March +15th."</p> + +<p>"Any address above Cherbourg?"</p> + +<p>"Not at present. 'Cherbourg, March 15th. +Dear Coulter, I am called away to Canada on +business. The matter is very private, and I want +my trip kept very quiet. I leave affairs in your +hands until my return. Get my luggage from my +hotel and keep it in the office. If anything urgent +arises, my name and address will be Arthur Dean, +Hotel Ritz-Carlton, Montreal.'"</p> + +<p>The young secretary went white, and his fingers +dropped from the keys of the typewriter.</p> + +<p>"Sir!"</p> + +<p>It was a moment of crisis.</p> + +<p>"Well?" asked Lars Larssen sharply.</p> + +<p>"A letter like that, sir...!"</p> + +<p>"You don't care to go to Canada?"</p> + +<p>"It's not that, but——" He stammered, +and stopped short.</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen allowed a moment of silence to give +weight to his coming words. He drew out a cheque-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>book +from his breast-pocket and very deliberately +said: "Make yourself out a cheque for a usual +month's wages, and bring it to me to sign. That +will be in lieu of notice."</p> + +<p>Arthur Dean took the cheque-book with shaking +fingers and went to the adjoining room.</p> + +<p>When at length he came back, he found the shipowner +making out a telegram. He stood in silence +until the telegram was given into his hand, open, +with an order to send it off to London. His glance +fell involuntarily on the writing, and he could see +that the wire was to call over somebody to replace +him.</p> + +<p>"I don't think this will be necessary, sir," said +Dean, with a tremor in his voice which told of the +mental struggle he had been through in the adjoining +room, when his career lay staked on the +issue of a single decision.</p> + +<p>It was not without definite purpose that Lars +Larssen had put the cheque-book into his hands. +He knew well the power of suggestion, and used +it with a master-hand. He could almost see the +young secretary torn between the thoughts of a +miserable £8 on the one hand, and the illimitable +wealth suggested by a blank cheque-book on the +other.</p> + +<p>"Understand this," answered Larssen. "Whichever +way you decide matters nothing to me from +the business point of view. I can get a dozen, +twenty men to replace you at a moment's notice. +If you don't care to go to Canada, you're perfectly +free to say so. Then we part, because you're +useless to me. Aside from the purely business<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +point of view, I should be sorry. I like you; I +see possibilities in you; I could help you up the +business ladder."</p> + +<p>"That's very good of you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Wait. I want you to see this matter in the +proper light. You have an idea that what that +letter represents could get you into trouble with +the law. That's it, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Dean coloured.</p> + +<p>"Now see here. I stand behind that letter. +My reputation is worth about ten thousand times +yours in hard cash. Would I be mad enough to +risk my reputation unless I had looked at every +move on the board?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't think of that at the time."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Now you see the other side of the +picture. If you want half an hour to make up +your mind once and for all, take it. Consider +carefully what you'd like to be in the future: +clerk or business man. Two pound a week; or +six, ten, twenty, fifty a week. That represents +the difference between the clerk and the business +man in cold cash."</p> + +<p>"I've made up my mind, sir," answered Dean +firmly.</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Lars Larssen, and held out his +hand to his young employee. "There's the right +stuff in you!"</p> + +<p>To have his hand shaken in friendship by the +millionaire shipowner was as strong wine to Arthur +Dean. He flushed with pleasure as he stammered +out his thanks.</p> + +<p>A couple of hours packed with feverish activity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +followed. Lars Larssen knew that Clifford Matheson +had the habit of carrying a small typewriter +with him on his journeys, in order to get through +correspondence while on trains and steamers. +Many busy men carry them. This habit of Matheson's +was exceedingly useful for his present purpose. +The letter that Arthur Dean was to post +off at Cherbourg—one to the Paris office of Clifford +Matheson and one of similar purport to the London +office—would only need the signature in holograph. +Larssen had several of Matheson's signatures +on various letters that had passed between them, +and these he cut off and gave to his employee to +copy.</p> + +<p>He criticised the spacing and the general lay-out +of the letter already typed, showed Dean how to +imitate Matheson's little habits of typing, and +arranged that the letters dictated should be retyped +on hotel paper at Cherbourg and posted +there. Dean was to catch a night train to Cherbourg, +take steamer ticket there for Quebec, and +proceed to Montreal. There were a host of directions +as to his conduct while in Canada, and +as Larssen poured out a stream of detailed +orders, searching into every cranny and crevice +of the situation, the young clerk felt once more +the glamour of the master-mind.</p> + +<p>Here was an employer worth working for!</p> + +<p>Early next morning Dean was at grimy Cherbourg, +and after posting off his letters he sent the +following telegram to Mrs Matheson at Monte +Carlo:—</p> + +<p>"Sailing this morning for Canada on 'La Bre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>tagne.' +Urgent and very private business. +Larssen, Grand Hotel, Paris, will explain. Sailing +as Arthur Dean to avoid Canadian reporters. +Good-bye. Much love."</p> + +<p>As the liner lay by the quayside with smoke +pouring from her funnels and the bustle of near +departure on her decks, a telegram in reply was +brought to Arthur Dean. He opened and read:—</p> + +<p>"Most annoying. Cannot understand why +business could not have been given to somebody +else. However, expect nothing from you nowadays. +Where is Rivière? Not arrived, and no +line from him."</p> + +<p>Rivière? Who was this man? Lars Larssen +had made no mention of this name. It was the +one facet of the situation of which the shipowner +knew nothing—the one unknown link in the chain +of circumstance.</p> + +<p>Arthur Dean could only send a frantic wire to +Lars Larssen, and the liner had cast off from her +moorings before an answer came. This is what +the shipowner found awaiting him at his hotel:—</p> + +<p>"Mrs M. wants to know where is Rivière. Reply +urgent. Who is Rivière?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE BEGINNING OF A NEW LIFE</span></h2> + + +<p>On the morning of March 15th, Clifford +Matheson lit a blazing fire in the laboratory +of a tumbledown villa in Neuilly in order +to destroy the clothes and other identity marks +of the financier.</p> + +<p>For some months past he had been leading a double +life—as Clifford Matheson the financier, and as +John Rivière the recluse scientist. He had chosen +to take up the name of his dead half-brother because +he had been taking up the latter's life-work.</p> + +<p>The motives that had urged him to this strange +double life were such as a Lars Larssen could +scarcely comprehend. Every man has his mental +as well as his physical limitations. The keenest +brain, if trained on some specialized line, will fail +to understand what to the dabbler in many lines +seems perfectly natural and reasonable. Larssen, +a master-mind, had his peculiar limitations as well +as smaller men. His brain had been trained to +see the world as an ant-heap into which some +Power External had stamped an iron heel. The +ants fought blindly with one another to reach the +surface—to live. That was the law of life as he +saw it—to fight one's way to the open.</p> + +<p>The world he looked upon breathed in money<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +through eager nostrils. Money was the oxygen +of civilization. Without money a man slowly +asphyxiated. It must be every man's ambition +to own big money—to breathe it in himself with +full-lunged, lustful, intoxicating gulps, and to dole +it out as master to dependents pleading for their +ration of life. That was the meaning of power: +to give or withhold the essentials of life at one's +pleasure.</p> + +<p>Consequently he had failed to read the riddle +of Matheson's motive at that crucial interview in +the financier's office on the Rue Laffitte. He had +failed to realize that a man might be as eager to +give as to grasp. He had failed to reckon on +altruism as a possible dominating factor in the +decisions of a successful man of business.</p> + +<p>Further than that, it lay entirely outside Lars +Larssen's plane of thought that a man who had +fought his way up to worldly success from a clerk's +stool in a Montreal broker's office, who had made +himself a power in the world of London and Paris +finance, could voluntarily give up money and +power and bury himself in obscurity.</p> + +<p>Larssen judged that Matheson had been murdered +and robbed by the <i>apaches</i>. It was possible, +though extremely improbable, that he might have +committed suicide. Which it was, mattered nothing +to the shipowner. But he did not dream +for one instant that Matheson might have thrown +up place and power to disappear into voluntary +exile.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Clifford Matheson had set himself from the age<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +of eighteen to achieve a money success. At thirty-seven, +he had achieved it. He had slashed out +for himself a path to power in the financial world. +He was rich enough to satisfy the desires of most +men.</p> + +<p>Five years ago he had married into a well-known +English family, and the doors of society had been +opened wide to him. But his marriage had been +a ghastly mistake. Olive, after marriage, had +showed herself entirely out of sympathy with the +idealism that formed so large a part of the complex +character of her husband. She wanted money +and power, and she drove spurs into her husband +that he might obtain for her more and more money, +more and more power. Any other ambition in +Clifford she tried to sneer down with the ruthlessness +of an utterly mercenary woman.</p> + +<p>He had come to loathe the sensuous artificiality +of his life. He had come to loathe the ruthless +selfishness of finance. He was sick with the +callousness of that stratum of the world in which +he moved.</p> + +<p>In the last couple of years he had found himself +drawn powerfully towards the calm, passionless +atmosphere of science in which his elder brother, +John Rivière, had found his life-work. Rivière +had made no worldly success for himself. The +scientific researches he had undertaken made no +stir when they found light in the pages of obscure +quarterlies circulating amongst a few dozen other +men engaged in similar research. Rivière had +not the temperament to push himself or the children +of his brain. He had settled into a solitary bachelor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +life in a small Canadian college—an unknown, +unrecognized man—and yet the calm, steady +purpose and the calm, passionless happiness of the +life had made a deep impression on Clifford Matheson.</p> + +<p>Rivière had come to an accidental death on a +holiday with his brother in the wilds of northern +Canada. Few knew of it beyond Matheson.</p> + +<p>The financier had been drawn towards one special +problem of science, and on this he had studied +deeply the last few years. From his studies, an +idea had developed which could only be worked +out by experiments. Many years of patient research +would be needed, for this thought-child +of Matheson's was a master-idea, an idea which +meant the exploring of a practically uncharted +sea of knowledge.</p> + +<p>In brief, it was an attack of root-problem of +human disease. Doctors and pathologists had +hitherto been viewing disease from the aspect of +its myriad effects on the highly complex human +being. It was as though one were to attempt +to understand the subtleties of some full-grown +language without first learning its elementary +grammar—the foundations on which its super-structure +is reared.</p> + +<p>Now Matheson, coming to the problem with a +strong, fresh mind unhampered by the swaddling +clothes of a college training, saw it from a view-point +entirely different to that of the doctors. +He wanted to know the elementary grammar of +human disease. He found that no book dealt +with it—nor attempted to deal with it. No recognized +department of a medical course took as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +its province the root-causes of disease. Pathology +was a study of effects. Bacteriology—that +again was merely a study of effects.</p> + +<p>He had read widely amongst a variety of scientific +research-matter, and had found that here and +there an isolated attack was being made on the +problem of causes. But nothing strong-planned—as +any one of his financial schemes would be +planned—nothing co-ordinated. The researches +of the day were starting at points too complex, +before the basic conditions of the problem were +known.</p> + +<p>He wanted to learn, and to give to the world, +the basic facts.</p> + +<p>Disease, as he viewed it, was primarily the result +of abnormal conditions of living. His idea was to +study it in its simplest possible form. To study +the effects of abnormal conditions of life on the +lowest living organisms—the microscopic blobs +of life whose structure is elemental. From his +wide reading of the last couple of years, he knew +what little was already known and the vast field +that was unexplored territory. He need not waste +time over what others had already dealt with—the +new territory offered sufficient field for a life-work.</p> + +<p>Once he could get at the basic facts of disease +as it related to the very simplest organisms, he +could progress upwards to the higher organisms, +and so eventually to man. What could be learnt +from the pathological condition of an amœba +might lay the foundations for the conquering of +cancer in man, and a hundred other diseases as well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +Matheson's idea was a revolutionary one—a +master-idea like a master-patent. It held limitless +possibilities for the alleviation of human pain +and suffering.</p> + +<p>It was an idea to which a man might well devote +his whole intellect and energies.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Some months before, the financier had bought, +in the name of John Rivière, a tumbledown villa +on the outskirts of Neuilly. In it he had fitted up +a research laboratory in which to pursue the experimental +end of the problem which had such +vital interest for him.</p> + +<p>A high wall surrounded a garden overgrown +with weeds and a villa falling to decay. At one +time, no doubt, the house had formed a nest for +the <i>petite amie</i> of some rich Parisian, but now the +owner of the property was only too glad to sell +it at any price, and without asking any but the +most perfunctory questions of the man who had +offered to buy. In the solitude of the ruined +villa, Matheson had been pursuing his scientific +research at such times as he could snatch from his +financial business. He had been leading a "double +life"—from a motive far different to the double +life of other married men. There was no woman +in the case. There was no secret scheme of money-making. +There was no solitary pandering to the +senses with drink or drugs.</p> + +<p>But the financier had been finding that the +leading of a double life bristled with practical +difficulties. Apart from the calls of his business, +there were the insistent demands of his wife. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +position was becoming an intolerable one. He +had to choose between the life of the money-maker +or that of the creator of a new field of knowledge.</p> + +<p>On the night of 14th March the conversation +on the platform of the Gare de Lyon and the fight +with Lars Larssen had brought the question of +decision to a head. He had grappled with it in +his office, pacing to and fro long after the shipowner +had left. He had turned his steps towards +the heights of Montmartre so that he might carry +his problem up to the solitude of a high place, in +the peace of the eternal stars.</p> + +<p>He was deep in the question of decision when +the two apaches had attacked him in the narrow +lane leading to the Basilique of the Sacred Heart. +Matheson was a man of considerable strength and +alertness. He had felled one of the two <i>apaches</i> +with his heavy gold-mounted stick; the other +one had sent through the fur-lined coat a knife-thrust +which had grazed his ribs. Matheson had +beaten him off, and had then continued his path +to the Basilique.</p> + +<p>But the attack had brought a vivid inspiration +for the solution of his personal problem.</p> + +<p>He would slip off the personality of Clifford +Matheson and take up completely that of John +Rivière. He would leave his overcoat and stick +by the riverside at Neuilly, and 'phone information +about them to the police or to a newspaper. That +knife-slit in his overcoat would be taken as evidence +of murder. They would judge him murdered, +with robbery as motive. The courts would give +leave for Olive to presume death. She would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +freed; she would come into her husband's fortune; +she could marry again if she chose to.</p> + +<p>Surely that was the solution of his personal +problem!</p> + +<p>For his part he could live his life unshackled, +and there was sufficient money already standing +in the name of Rivière at a Paris bank to give him +a modest income on which to keep himself and +pay for the materials of research.</p> + +<p>No one would be the worse for his disappearance; +his wife would be the gainer; and mankind, he +hoped, would be the gainer through the research +to which he could henceforth devote his life.</p> + +<p>Yes, that was assuredly <i>the</i> solution.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">A SEAT BY THE ARENA</span></h2> + + +<p>Rivière had bought fresh clothes and +other necessities at the suburban shops +of Neuilly. He had shaved off his moustache; +arranged his hair differently; put on a +new shape of collar. It is curious how the shape +of a collar is associated in most minds with the +impression of a man's features. To change into +another shape is to make a very noticeable difference +to one's appearance.</p> + +<p>He had also bought travelling necessities. His +intention was to wander for a couple of months. +It would help him to clear his brain from the tangle +of financial matters which still obsessed it against +his will. He wanted to sweep out the Hudson +Bay scheme, Lars Larssen, Olive, and many other +matters from the living-room of his mind. He +wanted a couple of months in which to settle himself +in the new personality; plan out his future +work in detail; set the mental fly-wheel turning, +so as to concentrate his energies undividedly on +the work to come.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, old Mme Dromet entered the +villa to scrub and clean. She had a standing +arrangement to come two or three afternoons a +week.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you going away from Paris?" shouted +old Mme Dromet to her employer, seeing the portmanteau +and the other signs of departure. She +was stone-deaf, and in the manner of deaf people +always shouted what she had to say.</p> + +<p>Rivière nodded assent, and produced a paper +of written instructions. These he read through +with her, so as to make sure that she thoroughly +understood. Then he gave her a generous allowance +to cover the next few months.</p> + +<p>Later in the afternoon, he was seated with his +modest travelling equipment in a cab, driving to +No. 8, Rue Laffitte. He mounted to the offices +of the financier and, in order to test the efficacy +of his changed appearance, asked to see Mr Clifford +Matheson.</p> + +<p>For a moment the clerk stared at the visitor. +The resemblance to his employer was certainly +very striking. Yet there were differences. Mr +Matheson wore a close-cut moustache, while this +man was clean-shaven. The commanding look, +the hard-set mask of the financier were softened +away; there was joy of life, there was freedom +of soul in the features and in the attitude of this +visitor.</p> + +<p>"I am Mr John Rivière, his half-brother. Will +you tell him that I am here?"</p> + +<p>The clerk felt somehow relieved. That of course +explained the striking resemblance. He replied: +"Mr Matheson has not been at the office to-day, +sir. I fancy he has left for Monte Carlo. I am +not sure, but I believe that was his intention."</p> + +<p>"Has he left no message for me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I will see, sir. Please take a seat."</p> + +<p>Presently the clerk returned. "I am sorry, +sir, but there doesn't seem to be any message left +for you."</p> + +<p>"Tell him I called," said Rivière, and went +back to his cab. In it he was driven to the Gare +de Lyon. At the booking-office he asked for a +ticket for Arles. His intention was to travel +amongst the old cities of Provence, and then make +his way to the Pyrenees and into Spain. There +was no definite plan of journey; he wanted only +some atmosphere which would help him to clear +his mind for the work to come. In the Midi the +early Spring would be breathing new life over the +earth.</p> + +<p>About midnight the southern express stopped +at some big station. The rhythmic sway and +clatter of a moving train had given place to a +comparative stillness that awoke John Rivière +from sleep. He murmured "Dijon," and composed +himself to a fresh position for rest. Some +hours later there was again a stoppage, and instinctively +he murmured "Lyon-Perrache." The +phases of the journey along the main P.L.M. route +had been burnt into him from the visits with Olive +to Monte Carlo.</p> + +<p>In the morning the strange land of Provence +opened out under mist which presently cleared +away beneath the steady drive of the sun. The +low hills that border the valley of the Rhone +cantered past him—quaint, treeless hills here +scarped and sun-scorched, there covered with +low balsam shrubs. Now and again they passed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +a straggling white village roofed with big, curved, +sun-mellowed tiles. Around the village there would +be a few trees, and on these the early Spring of +the Midi had laid her fingers in tender caress.</p> + +<p>The air was keen and yet strangely soft; to +Rivière it was wine of life. He drew it in thirstily; +let the wind of the train blow his hair as it listed; +watched greedily the ever-changing landscape. The +strange bare beauty of this land of sunshine and +romance brought him a keen thrill of happiness.</p> + +<p>It was as though he had loosed himself from +prison chains and had emerged into a new life of +freedom.</p> + +<p>In full morning they reached Arles, the old +Roman city in the delta of the Rhone. It clusters, +huddles around the stately Roman arena on the +hill in the centre of the town—a place of narrow, +tortuous <i>ruelles</i> where every stone cries out a +message from the past. In the lanes, going about +the business of the day, were women and girls +moulded in the strange dark beauty of the district—the +"belles Arlésiennes" famous in prose and +verse.</p> + +<p>Yet chiefly it was the arena that fascinated +him. All through the afternoon he wandered +about the great stone tiers, flooded in sunlight, +and reconstructed for himself a picture of the days +when gladiators down below had striven with one +another for success—or death. The arena was +the archetype of civilized life.</p> + +<p>Now he was a spectator, one of the multitude +who look on. It was good to sit in the flooding +sunlight and know that he was no longer a gladiator<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +in the arena. There was higher work for him to +do, away from the merciless stabbing sword and +the cunning of net and trident.</p> + +<p>At intervals during the afternoon a few tourists—mostly +Americans—rushed up in high-powered, +panting cars to the gateway of the arena; gave +a hurried ten minutes to the interior; and then +whirled away across the white roads of the Rhone +delta in a scurry of dust.</p> + +<p>Only one visitor seemed to realize, like himself, +the glamour of the past and to steep the mind in +it. This was a woman. Her age was perhaps +twenty-five, in her bearing was that subtle, scarcely +definable, sureness of self which marks off womanhood +from girlhood. She climbed from tier to +tier of the amphitheatre with firm confident step; +stood gazing down on her dream pictures of the +scene in the arena; moved on to a fresh vantage-point. +She wore a short tailored skirt which ignored +the ugly, skin-tight convention of the current +fashion. Her cheeks were fresh with a healthy +English colour; her eyes were deep blue, toning +almost to violet; her hair was burnished chestnut +under the soft felt hat curled upwards in front; +a faint odour of healthy womanhood formed as +it were an aura around her.</p> + +<p>All this John Rivière had noticed subconsciously +as she passed close by him on the ledge +where he sat, walking with her firm, confident step. +Though he noted it appreciatively, yet it disturbed +him. He did not want to notice any woman. +He had big work to do, and on that he wanted to +concentrate all his faculties. He had had no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +thought of a woman in his life when he broke the +chains that shackled him to the Clifford Matheson +existence. He purposed to have no call of sex +to divert him from the realization of his big idea.</p> + +<p>Presently she had climbed to the topmost ledge +of the amphitheatre, and stood out against the +sky-line of the sunset-to-be, deep-chested, straight, +clean-limbed, a very perfect figure of a modern +Diana.</p> + +<p>It is a dangerous place on which to stand, that +topmost ledge of the amphitheatre, with no parapet +and a sheer drop to the street below. Almost +against his will, Rivière mounted there.</p> + +<p>But there was no occasion for his help, and they +two stood there, some yards apart, silent, watching +the red ball of the sun sink down into the limitless +flats of the Camargue, and the grey mist rising +from the marshes to wrap its ghostly fingers round +this city of the ghostly past.</p> + +<p>Twice she looked towards him as though she +must speak out the thoughts conjured up by this +splendid scene. It wanted only some tiny excuse +of convention to bridge over the silence between +them, but Rivière on his side would not seek it, +and the woman hesitated to ask him to take up +the thread that lay waiting to his hand.</p> + +<p>A cold wind sprang up, and she descended and +made her way to her hotel on the Place du Forum.</p> + +<p>At dinner in the deserted dining-room of his +hotel, Rivière found himself seated at the next +table to her. There are only two hotels worthy +of the name in Arles, and the coincidence of +meeting again was of the very slightest. Yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +somehow he felt subconsciously that the arm of +Fate was bringing their two lives together, and he +resented it.</p> + +<p>The silence between them remained unbroken.</p> + +<p>In the evening he wrapped himself in a cloak +against the bitter wind rushing down the valley +of the Rhone and spreading itself as an invisible +fan across the delta, and wandered about the dark +alleys of the town, twisting like rabbit-burrows, +lighted only here and there with a stray lamp +socketed to a stone wall. Now he had left the big-thoughted +age of the Romans, and was carried +forward to the crafty, treacherous Middle Ages. +In such an alley as this, bravos had lurked with +daggers ready to thrust between the shoulder-blades +of their victims. Now he was in a wider +lane through which an army had swept pell-mell +to slay and sack, while from the overhanging +windows above desperate men and women shot +wildly in fruitless resistance. Now he was in +another of the lightless rabbit-burrows....</p> + +<p>A sudden sharp cry of fear cut out like a whip-lash +into the blackness. A woman's cry. There +were sounds of angry struggle as Rivière made +swiftly to the aid of that woman who cried out +in fear.</p> + +<p>Stumbling round a corner of the twisting alley, +he came to where a gleam from a shuttered window +showed a slatted glimpse of a woman struggling +in the arms of a lean, wiry peasant of the Camargue. +Rivière seized him by the collar and shook him +off as one shakes a dog from the midst of a fray. +The man loosed his grip of the woman, and snarl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>ing +like a dog, writhed himself free of Rivière. +Then, whipping out a knife from his belt, he struck +again and again. Rivière tried to ward with his +left arm, but one blow of the knife went past the +guard and ripped his cheek from forehead to jawbone.</p> + +<p>At that moment a shutter thrown open shot +as it were a search-light into the blackness of the +alley, full on to the man with the knife, and Rivière, +putting his whole strength into the blow, sent a +smashing right-hander straight into the face of +his adversary. Thrown back against the alley-wall, +the man rebounded forward, and fell, a +huddled, nerveless mass, on the ground.</p> + +<p>From doorways near men came out with lights ... there +was a hubbub of noise ... excited +questions eddied around Rivière.</p> + +<p>But the latter made no answer. He turned to +find the woman who had been attacked.</p> + +<p>"Mr Rivière!"</p> + +<p>It was the woman who had stood by him on the +topmost ledge of the amphitheatre, drinking in +that glorious fiery sunset over the grey Camargue. +She was flushed, but very straight and erect.</p> + +<p>"That brute was attacking me. Oh, if only +I had had some weapon!" Then she noticed +the blood dripping from the gash in his forehead, +and cried out: "You're hurt! Take this."</p> + +<p>Her handkerchief was pressed into his hand. +He answered as he took it: "It's nothing. Fortunately +it missed the eye. And you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not hurt, thanks. Oh, you were splendid! +It makes one feel proud to be an Englishwoman."</p> + +<p>"Come to the hotel," he said, and ignoring the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +excited questioning of the knot of men, took her +arm and led her rapidly to their hotel on the Place +du Forum.</p> + +<p>"Let me dress your wound until the doctor +can come."</p> + +<p>"I don't want a doctor," he replied coldly. A +sudden aloofness had come into his voice.</p> + +<p>Her eye sought his with a piqued curiosity. For +a moment, forgetting that here was a man who +had rescued her from insult at considerable bodily +risk, she saw him only as a man of curious, almost +boorish brusqueness. Why this sudden cold +reserve?</p> + +<p>Then, with a reddening of cheek at her momentary +lapse from gratitude, she began to thank him +for his timely help.</p> + +<p>Rivière cut her short. "There is nothing to +thank me for. I didn't even know it was you. +I heard a woman's cry—that was all. You ought +not to go about these dark <i>ruelles</i> alone at night-time."</p> + +<p>They were at the door of their hotel by now.</p> + +<p>"Can't I dress the wound for you?" she asked. +"I've had practice in first aid, Mr Rivière."</p> + +<p>He paused suddenly in the doorway and asked +her abruptly: "How do you know my name?"</p> + +<p>"I know more than your name. When your +cut has been dressed, I'll explain in full."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I can manage quite well myself. +Let us meet again in the <i>salon</i> in, say, half +an hour's time."</p> + +<p>They parted in the corridor and went to their +respective rooms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>When they met again, he had his head bound up +with swathes of linen. His face was white with +the loss of blood, and she gave a little cry of alarm.</p> + +<p>"You were badly hurt!"</p> + +<p>"No; merely a surface cut. But please tell +me what you know about me."</p> + +<p>There was a quick change in her to a smiling +gaiety. The man was human again—he had at +all events a very human curiosity.</p> + +<p>"The name was from the hotel register, naturally," +she answered. "But I know also that you are on +your way to Monte Carlo, which certainly can't +come from the register."</p> + +<p>Rivière's face became coldly impassive as he +waited for her to explain further.</p> + +<p>"You are a scientist," she continued slowly, +watching him to note the effect of her words. +"You are to meet a lady for the first time at +Monte Carlo. Yet she knows you by your first +name, John. You see that I know a good deal +about you."</p> + +<p>She waited for him to question her further, but +he remained silent, deep in thought.</p> + +<p>More than a little piqued that he would not +question further, she gave him abruptly the +solution of the riddle.</p> + +<p>"Two nights ago I travelled here from Paris +in the same train with an Englishwoman and her +father. They took breakfast at the table near to +mine in the restaurant car, and I could scarcely +help overhearing what they were saying. They +chatted about you. Then I found your name in +the hotel register."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But why did you look it up?" he challenged +abruptly.</p> + +<p>She parried the question. "The name caught +my eye by accident. Naturally I was interested +by the coincidence."</p> + +<p>Rivière turned the conversation to the impersonal +subject of Arles and its Roman remains, and +soon after they said good-night.</p> + +<p>"Shall I see you at breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so," he answered.</p> + +<p>As she moved out of the room, a splendidly +graceful figure radiating health and energy and +life full-tide, Rivière could not help following her +with his eyes. His innermost being thrilled +despite himself to the magic of her splendid womanhood.</p> + +<p>It plucked at the strings of the primitive man +within him.</p> + +<p>In his room that evening he took up the blood-drenched +handkerchief. In the corner was the +name "Elaine Verney." The name conveyed +nothing to him. He threw the handkerchief away, +and shut her from his thoughts. He wanted no +woman in this new life of his.</p> + +<p>With the morning came a resolution to avoid +her altogether. He rose very early and took the +first train out of Arles.</p> + +<p>It took him to Nîmes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">WHO AND WHERE IS RIVIÈRE?</span></h2> + + +<p>"Who is Rivière?"</p> + +<p>Here was a new factor in the situation. +Lars Larssen mentally docketed it as a +matter to be dealt with immediately. After sending +off a reply telegram to Cherbourg (which reached +the quayside too late and was afterwards returned +to him), the shipowner got a telephone call through +to Olive at the Hotel des Hespérides.</p> + +<p>"This is Mr Larssen speaking. Are you Mrs +Matheson?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Good morning."</p> + +<p>"Good morning. I called you up to say that +your husband has sailed for Canada on 'La +Bretagne.' I had a line from Cherbourg this +morning."</p> + +<p>"So had I."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he explained matters to you?"</p> + +<p>"No, he referred me to you for explanations. +Just like Clifford!... What about Rivière—is he +coming to Monte?"</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen had to tread warily here. So he +answered: "I didn't quite catch that name."</p> + +<p>"John Rivière, my husband's half-brother. He +lives in some suburb of Paris, I forget where, and +Clifford was to bring him along to Monte."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>The shipowner decided that he must find this man +and discover if he knew anything. The words of +Jimmy Martin flashed through his brain: "I doubt +if the police'll do much unless the relatives kick up +a shindy." Meanwhile, there was nothing to do +but tell the truth, which was his usual resource +when in an unforeseen difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Don't know anything about him. If you give +me his Paris address I'll dig him out."</p> + +<p>"We don't know his address."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll find it at the office. As soon as I get +a line on him I'll wire you. Rivière? The name +sounds French."</p> + +<p>"French-Canadian. He's a couple of years older +than Clifford, I believe.... When are you coming +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"To-night's train or to-morrow. I'm not sure +if I can get away to-night."</p> + +<p>"Do you play roulette?"</p> + +<p>"No. Never been at the tables."</p> + +<p>"Then I must teach you," said Olive gaily.</p> + +<p>"Delighted!"</p> + +<p>After the telephone conversation, Larssen went +straight to No. 8, Rue Laffitte. He had wired the +night before to London to have a secretary sent +over—Sylvester, his usual confidential man, if the +latter were back at business; if not, another subordinate +he named. Catching the nine o'clock +train from Charing Cross, the secretary would arrive +in Paris about five in the afternoon. Meanwhile, +Larssen, had to make his search for Rivière in +person.</p> + +<p>The business of a financier differs radically from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +a mercantile business on the point of staff. The +main work of negotiation can only be carried out +by the head of the firm himself, as a rule, and the +routine work for subordinates is small, except when +a public company flotation is being made. Matheson +had found that his Paris office needed only a manager, +Coulter, and a couple of clerks, one English and one +French. Coulter was a steady-going, reliable man +of forty odd, extremely trustworthy and not too +imaginative.</p> + +<p>He knew Lars Larssen, of course, and received +him deferentially.</p> + +<p>"What can I have the pleasure of doing for you, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"I want the address of Mr John Rivière. Or +rather, Mrs Matheson wants it."</p> + +<p>"Who is Mr John Rivière?"</p> + +<p>This came as a fresh surprise to Lars Larssen, and +made him doubly anxious to discover the man. Why +all this mystery surrounding him?</p> + +<p>"I understand from Mrs Matheson that Mr +Rivière is her husband's half-brother. Lives somewhere +around Paris."</p> + +<p>"Strange! I've never heard of him myself. +I'll make enquiries if you'll wait a moment."</p> + +<p>Presently Coulter returned with the young English +clerk of the office.</p> + +<p>"It seems that Mr Rivière called here yesterday +afternoon and enquired for Mr Matheson," explained +Coulter.</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen turned to the young clerk with a +questioning look. "It was the first time I had ever +seen him, sir," said the clerk. "He came in and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +asked quite naturally for Mr Matheson. There was +an astonishing likeness between them, but that was +explained at once when he told me they were half-brothers."</p> + +<p>"An astonishing likeness?"</p> + +<p>"When I say a likeness, sir, I mean of course in +a general way. Mr Rivière is younger and different +in many ways."</p> + +<p>"Describe him."</p> + +<p>The clerk did so to the best of his ability.</p> + +<p>"Did he leave an address?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Or a message?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Or say where he was going?"</p> + +<p>The clerk could offer no clue to the whereabouts +or intentions of John Rivière. Repeated questioning +added little to the meagre information already given.</p> + +<p>"Mr Matheson has not been at the office to-day +or yesterday. Have you seen anything of him?" +asked Coulter of the shipowner.</p> + +<p>"I know. He's away to Canada."</p> + +<p>"To Canada!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. We discussed the matter the night I was +here. Hasn't he written you?"</p> + +<p>"We've heard nothing."</p> + +<p>"Reckon you will to-day.... Say, couldn't you +look in Mr Matheson's desk to find the address of +this Mr Rivière?"</p> + +<p>Coulter was the financier's confidential man. He +had full power to go over his employer's desk except +for certain drawers labelled "Private," and he did +so now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>When he came back from the search, he had an +envelope in his hand addressed "Lars Larssen, +Esq."</p> + +<p>"All I could find was this envelope for you, sir. +There seems to be no record of Mr Rivière's address."</p> + +<p>The shipowner slit open the letter and read it +with a countenance that gave no clue whatever to +what was passing in his mind.</p> + +<p>"My dear Larssen," it ran, "I estimate your +expenses on the Hudson Bay scheme at roughly +£20,000, and I enclose cheque for that amount. If +this is right, please let me have a formal receipt and +quittance. I want you to understand that my +decision on the matter is final. I regret that I am +obliged to back out at the last moment, but no +doubt you will be able to proceed without my help."</p> + +<p>The letter was in handwriting, and had not been +press-copied. Larssen noted that point at once with +satisfaction. But the letter itself gave him uneasiness. +It explained nothing of Matheson's motives. +From the 'phone conversation with Olive, it was +clear that she had no suspicion that her husband +wanted to withdraw from the Hudson Bay deal. +In fact, she had asked anxiously if anything had +gone wrong with the scheme. Sir Francis Letchmere +might of course be closer in Matheson's business +confidence, and that was one of the reasons for +travelling to Monte Carlo and talking to him face +to face.</p> + +<p>But with his keen intuitive sense, Lars Larssen +felt that the explanation was in some way connected +with this mysterious John Rivière. It was +imperative to get in touch with the man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>Where was Rivière? Was there nobody who could +throw light on his whereabouts? His jaw tightened +as he began to chew on the problem. Paris is too +big a city in which to hunt for a mere name.</p> + +<p>After thanking the manager, Larssen withdrew +from the room. Passing through the outer office, +he was addressed by the other of the two clerks, a +young Frenchman.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," said he in French, "here is a point +which perhaps will be of service. I am at the +window when Monsieur Rivière arrives <i>en taxi-auto</i>. +On the <i>impériale</i> I see a portmanteau. Doubtless +Monsieur Rivière journeys away from Paris."</p> + +<p>"Did you note the number of the cab?"</p> + +<p>The young Frenchman made a gesture of sympathetic +negation. There had been no reason to +look at the number, even if he could have read it +from a window on the second story.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said Larssen, but the information +seemed at first sight valueless. A man takes an +unknown cab from an unknown house in an unknown +suburb to an unknown terminus, when he +buys a ticket for an unknown destination. Sheer +waste of energy to hunt for a needle in that +haystack!</p> + +<p>Yet his bulldog mind would not let go of the +problem. Presently he had found a new avenue +of approach to it. If Rivière had travelled away +from Paris on the evening of the 15th, probably he +stayed that night or the next day at some hotel. +There he would have to fill in his name, etc., in the +hotel register according to the strict requirements +of the French law.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>Advertise in the papers for one John Rivière from +Paris, age thirty-seven, staying at a hotel in the +provinces on the 15th or 16th. Offer a reward for +information. The average Frenchman is very keen +on money; without a doubt he would answer the +advertisement if he knew anything of John Rivière. +Advertise in <i>Le Petit Journal</i>, <i>Le Petit Parisien</i> and +a few other dailies which cover France from end to +end, as no English or American journals do in their +respective countries.</p> + +<p>That was the right solution!</p> + +<p>Larssen did not pay the cheque for £20,000 into +his bank. He was after big game, and a mere +£20,000 was a jack-rabbit. It would be safer, he +felt, to let it lie amongst his secret papers.</p> + +<p>When Sylvester, his private secretary, arrived +by the afternoon train from London, Lars Larssen +placed him in touch with only so much of the +situation as he considered desirable. This was +little. Sylvester was to stay in Paris while the +shipowner went on to Monte Carlo. If the various +advertisements brought a reply, Sylvester was to +hunt out John Rivière in whatever part of France +he might be, and then communicate with Lars +Larssen for further orders.</p> + +<p>The secretary was a quiet, self-contained, silent +man of thirty or thirty-one. A heavy dark +moustache curtained expression from his lips. +Not only could he carry out orders to the letter, but +he was to be trusted to keep his head in any unforeseen +emergency and act on his own responsibility +in a sound, common-sense way. But Lars +Larssen trusted no man beyond the essentials of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +any situation. His was the brain to plan and +direct. He preferred obedient tools to brilliant, +independent helpers.</p> + +<p>At the train-side, Larssen gave a final direction +to his subordinate: "Keep me in touch with every +move."</p> + +<p>Back at his hotel, Sylvester occupied himself with +the development of some films he had taken on the +Channel passage. In his hours of leisure he was a +devoted amateur photographer. At the present +time there was nothing to be done but wait the +possible answer to the advertisement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">AT MONTE CARLO</span></h2> + + +<p>Next day, the wonderful panorama of +the Riviera was unfolding itself before +the eyes of the shipowner. The red rocks +and the dwarf pines of the Esterel coves, against +which an azure sea lapped in soft caress.... Cannes +with its far-flung draperies of white villas.... The +proud solemnity of the Alpes Maritimes thrusting +up to the snow-line and glinting white against +the sun.... Fairy bungalows nesting in tropic +gardens and waving welcome with their palm-fronds +to the rushing train.... The Baie des Anges +laughing with sky and hills.... The many-tunnelled +cliff-route from Villefranche to Cap D'Ail, +where moments of darkness tease one to longing +for the sight of the azure coves dotted with white-winged +yachts and foam-slashed motor-boats.... Europe's +silken, jewelled fringe!</p> + +<p>But scenery made no appeal to Lars Larssen. +Scenery would not help him to the attainment of +his great ambitions. Scenery was <i>no use</i> to him. +His delight lay in men and women and the using +of them. Business—the turning of other men's +energies to his own ends—was the very breath of +his being.</p> + +<p>He was glad to reach the hectic crowdedness of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +the tiny principality of Monaco—that triple essence +of civilization and sensuous luxury. He felt at +home with the big idea that drew the whole world +to the gaming tables to pay homage to the goddess +Fortune. For a moment the suggestion came to +him to buy up some beautiful islet and build a +pleasure city on it which should be a wonder of +the world. He was making a note of it for future +consideration, when Olive and her father met him +on the platform at Monte Carlo.</p> + +<p>"I thought perhaps you would bring John +Rivière with you," said Olive after they had exchanged +greetings. A strong desire had sprung up +to see this mysterious relation of Clifford's, and to +be balked of any passing whim was keen annoyance +to her.</p> + +<p>"Bring a will-o'-the-wisp," answered Larssen.</p> + +<p>"Can't you find him?" asked Sir Francis. +Larssen shook his head. "Gad, that's curious. +Why doesn't he write? Bad form, you know. But +when a man's lived all his life in the backwoods of +Canada, I suppose one can't expect him to know +what's what."</p> + +<p>Olive studied the shipowner keenly as they drove +to their hotel. His massive strength of body and +masterful purpose of mind, showing in every line of +his face, attracted her strongly. Olive worshipped +power, money, and all that breathed of them. +Here was the living embodiment of money and +power.</p> + +<p>After dinner that evening all three went to the +Casino. The order had been given to Sir Francis +Letchmere's valet that he was to bring over to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +Salle de Jeux any telegram or 'phone message that +might arrive.</p> + +<p>Larssen was keenly interested in the throng of +smart men and women clustered around the tables. +Here was the raw material of his craft—human +nature. Moths around a candle—well, he himself +had lit many candles. The process of singeing +their wings intrigued him vastly.</p> + +<p>Olive explained the game to him with a flush of +excitement on her cheeks. He noted that flush +and made a mental note to use it for his own ends. +She took a seat at a roulette table and asked him to +advise her where to stake her money. Sir Francis +preferred <i>trente-et-quarante</i>, and went off to another +table.</p> + +<p>"I can see you've been born lucky," she whispered +to Larssen.</p> + +<p>"I'll try to share it with you," he answered, and +suggested some numbers with firm, decisive confidence. +Though he had keen pride in his intellect +and his will, he had also firm reliance on his intuitive +sense. With Lars Larssen, all three worked hand +in hand.</p> + +<p>Olive began to win. Her eyes sparkled, and she +exchanged little gay pleasantries and compliments +with the shipowner.</p> + +<p>"We've made all the loose hay out of <i>this</i> sunshine," +said Larssen after an hour or so, when a +spell of losing set in. "Now we'll move to another +table."</p> + +<p>Olive obeyed him with alacrity. She liked his +masterful orders. Here was a man to whom one +could give confidence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Five louis on <i>carré</i> 16-20," he advised suddenly +when they had found place at another table.</p> + +<p>Without hesitation she placed a gold hundred-franc +piece on the intersecting point of the four +squares 16, 17, 19, 20. The croupier flicked the +white marble between thumb and second finger, +and it whizzed round the roulette board like an echo +round the whispering gallery of St Paul's. At +length it slowed down, hit against a metal deflector, +and dropped sharply into one of the thirty-seven +compartments of the roulette board. A croupier +silently touched the square of 16 with his rake to +indicate that this number had won, and the other +croupier proceeded to gather in the stakes.</p> + +<p>Forty louis in notes were pushed over to Olive.</p> + +<p>At this moment Sir Francis' valet came up to +Larssen with a telegram in his hand. The latter +opened and scanned it quickly.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Olive.</p> + +<p>"A tip to gamble the limit on number 14," +replied Larssen smilingly.</p> + +<p>Olive placed nine louis, the limit stake, on number +14, and two minutes later a pile of bank-notes +aggregating 6300 francs came to her from the +croupier's metal box.</p> + +<p>"You're Midas!" she whispered exultantly.</p> + +<p>"Midas has a hurry call to the 'phone," he +answered.</p> + +<p>For the telegram was from Sylvester, and it +read:—</p> + +<p>"Fourteen replies to hand. Fourteen J. Rivière's +scattered about France."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">LARSSEN TURNS ANOTHER CORNER</span></h2> + + +<p>"Clifford is a very shrewd man of +business," remarked Larssen, drinking his +third cognac at Ciro's at the end of a +dinner which was a masterpiece even for Monte +Carlo, where dining is taken <i>au grand sérieux</i>. He +did not sip cognac, but took it neat in liqueur +glassfuls at a time. There was a clean-cut forcefulness +even in his drinking, typical of the human +dynamo of will-power within.</p> + +<p>Sir Francis puffed out a cloud of cigar-smoke with +an air of reflected glory. He had helped to capture +Matheson as a son-in-law, and a compliment of this +kind was therefore an indirect compliment to +himself.</p> + +<p>The capture of Matheson was, in fact, the most +notable achievement of his career. Beyond that, +he had done little but ornament the Boards of +companies with his name; manage his estate +(through an agent) with a mixture of cross conservatism +and despotic benevolence; and shoot, hunt +and fish with impeccable "good form." He was +typical of that very large class of leisured landowner +in whose creed good form is next above godliness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Clifford has his head screwed on right," +he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Before he left for Canada," continued Larssen, +"he managed to gouge me for a tidy extra in shares +for you and for Mrs Matheson."</p> + +<p>Olive had been markedly listless, heavy-eyed and +abstracted during the course of the dinner, a point +which Larssen had noted with some puzzlement. +His mind had worked over the reasons for it without +arriving at any definite conclusion. But now, at +this unexpected announcement, her eyes lighted +up greedily.</p> + +<p>"For me!" she exclaimed. "That's more than I +expected from Clifford."</p> + +<p>The shipowner reached to take out some papers +from his breast-pocket, then stopped. "I was +forgetting. I oughtn't to be talking shop over the +dinner-table."</p> + +<p>Sir Francis made an inarticulate noise which was +a kind of tribute to the fetish of good form. He +wanted to hear more, but did not want to ask to +hear more.</p> + +<p>"Please go on," said Olive. "Talk business +now just as much as you like. Unless, of +course, you'd rather not discuss details while I'm +here."</p> + +<p>"I'd sooner talk business with you present, Mrs +Matheson. I think a wife has every right to be her +husband's business partner. I think it's good for +both sides. When my dear wife was with me, we +were share-and-share partners." He paused for a +moment, then continued: "Here's the draft scheme +for the flotation."</p> + +<p>He held out a paper between Sir Francis and +Olive, and Sir Francis took it and read it over with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +an air of concentrated, conscious wisdom—the air +he carefully donned at Board meetings, together +with a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez.</p> + +<p>"Clifford will be Chairman," explained Larssen. +"You and Lord St Aubyn and Carleton-Wingate +are the men I want for the other Directors. I, as +vendor, join the Board after allotment."</p> + +<p>"Where's the point about shares for me?" +asked Sir Francis, reading on.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't appear in the prospectus, of course. +A private arrangement between Clifford and myself. +Here's the memorandum."</p> + +<p>This he handed to Olive, who nodded her head +with pleasure as she read it through, her father +looking over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Keep it," said Larssen as she made to hand it +back. "Keep it till your husband returns from +Canada."</p> + +<p>"When did he say he will be back?"</p> + +<p>"It's very uncertain. He doesn't know himself. +It's a delicate matter to handle—very delicate. +That's why he went himself to Montreal."</p> + +<p>"He wired me that he's travelling under an +assumed name."</p> + +<p>"Very prudent," commented Larssen.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite like it," murmured Sir Francis. +"Not the right thing, you know."</p> + +<p>Larssen did not answer, but Olive rejoined +sharply: "What does it matter if it helps to get +the flotation off and make money?"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps so. Still——"</p> + +<p>"Can you fix up St Aubyn and Carleton-Wingate?" +asked Larssen. "Quickly?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I expect so. But has Clifford approved +this scheme?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Have you it with you?"</p> + +<p>"Have I what?"</p> + +<p>"I mean the agreement Clifford signed."</p> + +<p>Sir Francis, without knowing it, had stumbled +upon the crucial weakness of Larssen's daring +scheme. But it would have taken a far shrewder +man than he to realize the vital import of the point +from Larssen's easy, almost causal answer:</p> + +<p>"There's no signed agreement. We agreed the +scheme in principle at the interview in Clifford's +office, and he left details to you and me. His last +words were: 'Tell my father-in-law to go ahead +as quickly as he can manage.'"</p> + +<p>"But when I put this before St Aubyn and +Carleton-Wingate, they'll be expecting me to—I +mean to say, isn't it deuced irregular, you know?"</p> + +<p>Larssen did not answer this for a moment. He +had a keen appreciation of the value of silence +in business negotiations. He poured himself out +another glass of cognac and drank it off. His +attitude conveyed a contempt for Letchmere's +cautiousness which he would be too polite to put +into words.</p> + +<p>"If you'd sooner write to Clifford and have his +agreement to the scheme in black and white ..." +was his studiously, chilly reply.</p> + +<p>Olive put in a word: "I dislike all those niggling +formalities."</p> + +<p>"Business is business," quoted her father +sententiously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Besides, Clifford will be back before the prospectus +goes to the public."</p> + +<p>"Probably," agreed Larssen. "But in case he +is not back in time, we're to go ahead just as if he +were here. That's what he told me before he left +Paris. Didn't he write you to that effect, Sir +Francis?"</p> + +<p>"I heard nothing from him."</p> + +<p>"But I showed you my telegram," answered +Olive. "Clifford said to refer to Mr Larssen for +all details."</p> + +<p>"I must think matters over," said the baronet +obstinately.</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen had been studying his man through +half-closed eyelids, and he now summed him up +with penetrating accuracy. It was not suspicion +that made Sir Francis hesitate, but petty dignity. +He had become huffed. He felt that his dignity +had not been sufficiently studied in the transaction. +Matters had been arranged over his head without +formally consulting him. It was "not the thing"—"not +good form."</p> + +<p>To attempt to force matters would merely drive +him into deeper obstinacy.</p> + +<p>And yet it was <i>vital</i> to Larssen's plan that Sir +Francis should go ahead with the work of the +flotation quickly—should go ahead with it in the +full belief that Clifford Matheson had agreed to the +scheme and to the use of his name. It was vital +that Sir Francis should take the whole responsibility +of the flotation on to his own shoulders. He +was to make use of his son-in-law's name with the +other prospective Directors and on the printed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +prospectus just as though Matheson were personally +sanctioning it.</p> + +<p>Larssen himself planned to remain in the background +and pull the wires unseen. When the +revelation of Matheson's death came to light—as +it inevitably must in the course of time—Letchmere +would be so far involved that he would +be forced to shoulder responsibility for the use of +Matheson's name.</p> + +<p>To try to rush matters with Sir Francis would +perhaps wreck the whole delicate machinery of the +scheme. Larssen quickly resolved to get at him in +indirect fashion through Olive, and accordingly he +answered evenly:</p> + +<p>"Think it over by all means. There's plenty to +consider. Take the draft scheme and look it +through at your leisure.... Now what's the plan +of amusement for to-night?"</p> + +<p>Before going to the Casino, Olive made an excuse +to return to her rooms at the Hespérides. Alone in +her bedroom, she took out from a locked drawer a +hypodermic syringe in silver and glass, and a phial +of colourless liquid. She held the phial in her +hands with a curious look of furtive tenderness, +fondling it softly. For many months past this +had been her cherished secret—the drug that unlocked +for her new realms of fancy and exquisite +sensation.</p> + +<p>To herself she called it by a pet name, as though +it were a lover.</p> + +<p>In the course of the evening's play at the tables, +Larssen was struck with her increasing animation +and gaiety. The heavy, listless look had left her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +eyes, and they now glittered with life and fire. +When they left the tables to stroll by the milk-white +terraces of the Casino, there was a flush in her +cheeks and iridescence in her speech very different +from a couple of hours before.</p> + +<p>A spirit of caustic, impish brilliance was in her. +She turned it upon the people they had rubbed +shoulders with at the tables; upon the people +walking past them on the terraces; even upon her +husband:</p> + +<p>"Clifford is a 90 per cent. success. There are +men who can never achieve full success in any field +whatever. They climb up to 70, 80, 90 per cent., +and then the grade is too steep for them."</p> + +<p>"They stick."</p> + +<p>"Or run backwards downhill. I'm a passenger +in a car of that kind. Near to the top, but not +reaching it. So I get out to walk on myself."</p> + +<p>"There are mighty few men who have the +100 per cent. in them."</p> + +<p>"Tell me this, Mr Larssen. Did you know you +were a 100 per cent. man when you started your +business life, or did you come to realize it +gradually?"</p> + +<p>"I knew it from the first," replied the shipowner +steadily. "Knew it when I was a mere kiddy. +Set myself apart from the other boys. Told myself +I was to be their master. Made myself master. +Fought for it. Fought every boy who wouldn't +acknowledge it.... When I went to sea as cabin-boy +on the "Mary R." of Gloucester, the men on +the trawler tried to "lick me into shape," as they +called it. They didn't know what they were up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +against. I used those men as whet-stones—used +them to kick fear out of myself. You notice that +I limp a little? That's a legacy from the days of +the 'Mary R.'"</p> + +<p>Olive looked at him with open admiration. +"That's epic!" she exclaimed. "How far are you +going to climb?"</p> + +<p>Larssen had never revealed to any man or woman—save +only to his wife—the great ultimate purpose +of his life. He did not tell it to Olive. She was to +be used as a pawn in the great game, just as he was +using Sir Francis and the dead Clifford Matheson. +It came upon him that she was now a widow. He +would fan her open admiration so as to make use +of it when she awoke to the fact of her widowhood.</p> + +<p>So he answered: "How far I climb depends +on the help of my best friends. I don't hide +that. When my dear wife was with me, she was +an inspiration to me. No man can drive his +car to the summit without a woman to spur him +on."</p> + +<p>"Did marriage change you much?"</p> + +<p>"Strengthened me. Bolted me to my foundations.... But +here I'm monopolizing the conversation +with talk about myself. Let's switch. What +are <i>your</i> ambitions?"</p> + +<p>Olive laughed—a laugh with a bitter taste in it. +"I wanted to help a man to drive his car to the +summit, and the car has stuck. I could inspire, +but my inspiring goes to waste. I'm an engine racing +without a shaft to take up its energy. Clifford +is developing scruples. I don't know where he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +caught them. I can't stand sick people. That's +my temperament—I must have energy and action +around me."</p> + +<p>"I understand that. Felt it myself at times," +he answered sympathetically.</p> + +<p>Without apparent reason her thoughts skipped to +a woman who had sat near them at the roulette +table. "Wasn't she the image of a disappointed +vulture? I mean the woman in green. Swooping +down from a distance to gorge herself with a tasty +feast, and then finding a man with a rake to chase +her off. I chuckled to myself as I watched her. +Do men and women look to you like animals? +They do to me. Monte Carlo's a Zoo, only the +animals aren't caged."</p> + +<p>"That's right! You're an extraordinarily keen +observer, Mrs Matheson."</p> + +<p>Sir Francis Letchmere approached them beamingly +from the direction of the Casino. He had won +money at <i>trente-et-quarante</i>, and was feeling very +pleased with his own judgment and powers of +intellect generally.</p> + +<p>"Leave him to me," whispered Olive to Larssen. +"I'll see that my father gets busy on the Hudson +Bay Scheme. But on one condition."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"That you stay on at Monte for a few days. +I don't want to be left here alone. I hate being +alone."</p> + +<p>"I'm due back in London. Urgent business +matters."</p> + +<p>"Leave them for a few days. Leave them to +your managers. Stay here and amuse me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>Larssen knew when to give way—or seem to give +way—and how to do so gracefully.</p> + +<p>"I'll stay on without asking any conditions," +he answered with flattering cordiality. "It's not +often I get a command so pleasant to carry out!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">A LETTER FROM RIVIÈRE</span></h2> + + +<p>Olive made good her promise at once. +She packed her father back to England +the very next day, to get to work on the +Hudson Bay flotation, and Lars Larssen remained +on at Monte Carlo.</p> + +<p>Though he had led Olive to believe that he had +given in merely to please her, yet his true motive +was very different. His feelings towards her held +no scrap of passion in them. He knew her as vain, +shallow, feverishly pleasure-seeking—a glittering +dragon-fly. As a woman she made no appeal to +him. But as a tool to serve in the attaining of his +ambitions, she might conceivably be highly useful.</p> + +<p>His true motive in remaining at Monte Carlo was +double-edged—to bring Olive into the orbit of his +fascination, and to mark time until the mystery of +John Rivière had been set at rest.</p> + +<p>John Rivière worried him. Deep down in his +being was a keen intuitive feeling that this mysterious +half-brother of the dead man was in some way +linked up with the attainment of his ambitions—to +help or to hinder.</p> + +<p>Why had he not come to Monte Carlo as arranged? +Why had he sent no line to Olive to excuse himself? +Why had he made no further inquiry about Clifford<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +Matheson—or had he indeed made some inquiry +which might set him on the track of his brother's +disappearance?</p> + +<p>It was vital to know how matters stood with this +John Rivière before he could march forward unhesitatingly +with the Hudson Bay flotation.</p> + +<p>The result of the advertisements in the Paris newspapers +was annoying. Where the shipowner had +hoped for one answer—or perhaps a couple pointing +in the same direction—over a dozen had been +received. This meant waste of precious time while +Sylvester unravelled them. Over the 'phone +Larssen and his secretary had discussed the various +answers; rejected some of them; wired for confirmatory +details in respect of others. Provincial +hotel-keepers and railway guards were so keenly +"on the make" that they were ready to swear to +identity on the slenderest basis of fact.</p> + +<p>In pursuit of two of the clues, Sylvester travelled +as far north as Valognes in the Cotentin, and as +far east as Gérardmer in the Hautes-Vosges. Both +journeys were fruitless, and worse than fruitless—waste +of precious time and energy.</p> + +<p>While Larssen waited eagerly for definite news +from his secretary with whom he kept constantly +in touch by telegram, news came in unexpected +fashion through Olive.</p> + +<p>"I've just heard from Rivière," she announced. +"He's at Arles—down with a touch of fever. That's +the reason he hadn't written before. Those scientist +people are terribly casual in social matters."</p> + +<p>"May I see the letter?" asked Lars Larssen. +His reason for asking was a desire to study the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +man's handwriting and draw conclusions from it. +He was a keen student of handwriting.</p> + +<p>After he had read through the note he remarked +drily: "I guess I can give you another reason."</p> + +<p>"For his not writing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes.... <i>Cherchez la femme.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that?"</p> + +<p>"This note was written by a woman."</p> + +<p>"It's a very decided hand for a woman."</p> + +<p>"Yes it is. I'd stake big on that. Look at the +long crossings to the t's. Look at the way the +date is written. Look at the way words run into +one another."</p> + +<p>Olive examined the letter carefully, and laughed. +"You're right," said she. "He's travelling with +some woman. Those men who are supposed to be +wrapped up in their scientific experiments—you +can't trust them far!"</p> + +<p>Then she added with a curious touch of conscious +virtue: "But he'd no right to get that woman to +send a letter to <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>Larssen had noted the printed heading to the +letter, "Hotel du Forum, Arles," and he wired at +once to Morris Sylvester to proceed to Arles and +hunt out further details. It seemed an unnecessary +precaution, but the shipowner never neglected the +tiniest detail when he had a big scheme to engineer.</p> + +<p>His relief at the letter proved short-lived. Late +that night came a message from Sylvester:—</p> + +<p>"Rivière not at Arles and not down with fever. +Am following up further clues. Will wire again in +the morning."</p> + +<p>Larssen did not show this wire to Olive. He had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +told her nothing of his search for Rivière—had not +even appeared specially interested in him. But in +point of fact his interest in the mysterious half-brother +of the dead man was steadily growing with +every fresh check to the search. The intuition on +which he placed such firm faith told him insistently +that John Rivière was a factor vital to the fulfilment +of his ambitions.</p> + +<p>All the morning he looked for the telegram his +secretary was to send him. It came in the early +afternoon:—</p> + +<p>"Have found Rivière under extraordinary circumstances. +Letter and photograph follow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE SECOND MEETING</span></h2> + + +<p>Europe's beauty-spots of to-day were the +beauty-spots of the Roman Empire two +thousand years ago. Wherever the traveller +around Europe now reaches a place that makes +instant appeal; where harsh winds are screened +away and blazing sunshine filters through feathery +foliage; where all Nature beckons one to halt and +rest awhile—there he is practically certain to find +Roman remains. The wealthy Romans wintered at +Nice and Cannes and St Raphael; took the waters +at Baden-Baden and Aix in Savoy; made sporting +centres of Treves on the Moselle and Ronda in +Andalusia; dallied by the marble baths of Nîmes.</p> + +<p>Nîmes had captured Rivière at sight. His first +day in that leisured, peaceful, fragrant town, nestling +amongst the hills against the keen <i>mistral</i>, had decided +him to settle there for some weeks. He had +taken a couple of furnished rooms in a villa with a +delightful old-world garden. For a lengthy stay +he much preferred his own rooms to the transiency +and restlessness of a hotel, and at the Villa Clémentine +he had found exactly what he required. The +living-room opened wide to the sun. One stepped +out from its French windows into the garden, where +a little pebbly path led one wandering amongst<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +oleanders and dwarf oranges and flaming cannas, +to a corner where a tiny fountain made a home for +lazy goldfish floating in placid contentment under +the hot sun. Here there was an arbour wreathed +in gentle wisteria, where Rivière took breakfast and +the mid-day meal. At nightfall a chill snapped +down with the suddenness of the impetuousness +Midi, and his evening meal was accordingly taken +indoors.</p> + +<p>Besides this little private preserve of his own, +there was the beautiful public garden of Nîmes—called +the Jardin de la Fontaine—draping a hillside +that looks down upon the marble baths of the +Romans, almost as freshly new to-day as two +thousand years ago. A thick battalion of trees at +the summit of the hillside makes stubborn insistence +to the northern <i>mistral</i>, so that even when the +wind tears over the plains of Provence like a wild +fury, scourging and freezing, the Jardin de la +Fontaine is serene and windless. The <i>mistral</i> goes +always with a cloudless sky, as though the clouds +were fleeing from its icy keenness, and the sun pours +full upon the semi-circle of the Jardin de la Fontaine, +turning it to a hothouse where the most delicate +plants and shrubs can find a home.</p> + +<p>Here men and women in toga and flowing +draperies have whiled away leisure hours, spun +day-dreams, made love, or schemed affairs of +state and personal ambition. To-day, it is still +the resort of Nîmes where everyone meets everyone +else, either by design or by the chance +intercourse of a small town.</p> + +<p>On a morning of <i>mistral</i>, Rivière was seated in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +the pleasant warmth of the Jardin, planning out a +special piece of apparatus for his coming research-work. +He was concentrating intently—so intently +that he did not notice Miss Verney passing him with +a very professional-looking campstool, easel and +sketch-book.</p> + +<p>This second encounter was pure accident. Elaine +had no intentions whatever of following the man +who had left Arles with such boorish brusqueness, +without even the conventional good-bye at the +breakfast-table. She had come to Nîmes because +she was a worker, because this town contained +special material necessary to her bread-winning.</p> + +<p>She had guessed that Rivière's hurried departure +from Arles was made in order to avoid meeting her. +It hurt. Woman-like, she set more value on a few +pleasant words of farewell over a breakfast-table +and a warm handshake than on a defence from +assault at the risk of a man's life. The seeming +illogicality of woman is of course a mere surface +illusion. It hides a train of reasoning very different +to a man's. It is a mental short-cut like an Irishman's +"bull," which condenses a whole chain of +thought into a single link.</p> + +<p>In this case Elaine knew that Rivière's rescue +held no personal significance. He did not know at +the time that it was <i>she</i> who was being attacked. +He would have gone to the defence of any woman +under similar circumstances. While altruism appealed +to her strongly in a broad, general way, it +did not appeal when it came home in such a specific, +individual fashion.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, a warm handshake at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +breakfast-table would have its personal significance. +It would be a homage to herself, and not to women +in general. Its value would lie in its personal +meaning.</p> + +<p>While she knew this thought was ungenerous, yet +at the same time she knew that behind it there lay +a sound basis of reason.</p> + +<p>Her pride—that form of pride which is a very +wholesome self-respect—made her flush at the +thought that Rivière would see her and imagine, in +a man's way, that she had followed him to Nîmes. +She hurried on past him with a rapid side-glance. +The situation was an awkward one. She had her +work to do by the old Roman baths and the Druid's +Tower on the hillside, and she could not leave Nîmes +without doing it.</p> + +<p>When he came face to face with her, perhaps it +would be best to give a cold bow of formal recognition—the +kind of bow that says "Good morning. +I'm busy. You're not wanted."</p> + +<p>And yet, there was news for him in her possession +of which he ought to be informed. It was only fair +to the man who had defended her at considerable +personal risk that she should do him this small +service in return. In her pocket was a cutting of +an advertisement in a Parisian paper, several days +old, asking for the whereabouts of John Rivière. +Very possibly he had not seen it himself. It was +only fair to let him know of it. The stitches in his +forehead, which she had noted as she hurried past—these +called mutely for the small service in return.</p> + +<p>Elaine decided to wait until he recognized her, to +give him the advertisement, and then to conclude<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +their acquaintanceship with a few formal words of +which the meaning would be unmistakable. Accordingly +she set her campstool not far away from +him, and began her sketching in a vigorous, characteristic +fashion.</p> + +<p>It was an hour or more before her intuition +warned her that Rivière was approaching from +behind. As he passed, she raised her eyes quite +naturally as though to look at the subject she was +finishing. Their eyes met. Rivière raised his hat +politely but without any special significance. His +attitude conveyed no desire to renew their acquaintance. +He did not stop to exchange a few words, +as she expected.</p> + +<p>Elaine was hurt. She felt that he should at least +have given her the opportunity to refuse acquaintanceship. +And a sudden resolve fired up within +her to humble this man of ice—to melt him, and +bring him to her feet, and then to dismiss him.</p> + +<p>"Mr Rivière," she called.</p> + +<p>He stopped, and answered with a formal "Good +morning."</p> + +<p>"I have something for you—some news."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know that your friends are getting +anxious about you?"</p> + +<p>Rivière's attention concentrated. "Which +friends?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know which friends. But there's an +advertisement in a Paris paper asking for your +whereabouts."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for letting me know. What does it +say?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>She produced the cutting and handed it to him. +He studied it in silence. There was no hint in its +wording as to who was making inquiry—the advertisement +merely asked for replies to be sent to +a box number care of the journal. It struck Rivière +that it must have been inserted by Olive.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said. "I hadn't seen it +before."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to ask something in return," said +Elaine, and smiled at him frankly. "I want to +know why you're running away from your Monte +Carlo friends."</p> + +<p>Most women of Rivière's world would have +cloaked their curiosity under some conventional, +indirect form of question. Her frank directness +struck him as refreshing, and he answered readily: +"The lady you saw in the Côte d'Azur Rapide +was my sister-in-law, Mrs Matheson. Mrs Clifford +Matheson."</p> + +<p>"The wife of that man!" she interrupted. +There was anger and contempt in her voice.</p> + +<p>"You know him?"</p> + +<p>"My father lost the last remains of his money in +one of that man's companies. It hastened his +death."</p> + +<p>"Which company?"</p> + +<p>"The Saskatchewan Land Development Co. My +father bought during the early boom in the shares."</p> + +<p>Rivière remembered that he himself had cleared +£50,000 over the flotation, and the remembrance +jarred on him. The company was a moderately +successful one, but in its early days the shares had +been "rigged" to an unreal figure. Still, he felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +compelled, almost against his will, to defend his +past action.</p> + +<p>"Did he buy for investment or merely for speculation?" +asked Rivière.</p> + +<p>"I know very little about such matters."</p> + +<p>"As an investment, it would to-day be paying a +moderate dividend."</p> + +<p>"My father had to sell again at a big loss."</p> + +<p>"It sounds very like speculation."</p> + +<p>"Possibly."</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry to hear of the loss; but a man +who speculates in the stock market must look out +for himself. It's a risky game for the outsider to +play."</p> + +<p>Elaine silently recognized the truth of his words. +Then it came to her suddenly that Rivière had, a few +moments ago, used the word "sister-in-law," and +she said: "I was forgetting that Mr Matheson must +be a relative of yours."</p> + +<p>"My half-brother."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a searching frankness that +was in its way a tacit compliment. He was radically +different to the mental picture she had formed +of the financier.</p> + +<p>He continued: "The lady you saw in the train +was my sister-in-law. As you already know, she +expects me to join her at Monte Carlo. I don't +want to be drawn into that kind of life. I want +to remain quiet. I have important work to +do."</p> + +<p>"Scientific work, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And there's a big stretch of it in front of +me. That's why I'm not travelling on to Monte<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +Carlo. You understand my position now, Miss +Verney?"</p> + +<p>"Quite."</p> + +<p>"I'm right in calling you <i>Miss</i> Verney?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Then she added: "And you're wondering +why an unmarried woman should be wandering +alone amongst the by-ways of France?"</p> + +<p>"I can see that you also have work to do."</p> + +<p>Rivière looked towards her almost finished sketch +of the Roman baths. She removed it and passed +him the rest of the book. He found the book filled +with curiously formal sketches and paintings of +scenery—woodland glades, open heaths, temples, +arenas, and so on. These sketches caught +boldly at the high-lights of what they pictured, +and ignored detail. The colouring was also very +noticeably simplified—"impressionistic" would +better express it.</p> + +<p>"They look like stage scenes," he commented.</p> + +<p>"They are. Sketches for stage scenes. I'm a +scene painter. Just now I'm gathering material +for the staging of a Roman drama with a +setting in Roman Provence. Barrèze is to produce +it at the Odéon. It's my first big +chance."</p> + +<p>Rivière pointed to one of her sketches. "Wasn't +this worked into a scene for 'Ames Nues,' at the +Chatelet?"</p> + +<p>"Quite right!"</p> + +<p>"I remember being very much impressed by it at +the time.... Yours must be particularly interesting +work?"</p> + +<p>"The work one likes best is always peculiarly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +interesting. That's happiness—to have the work +one likes best."</p> + +<p>Seeing that Rivière was genuinely interested, +she began to dilate on her work, explaining something +of its technique, telling of its peculiar difficulties. +She showed him her sketches taken at +Arles; mentioned Orange, for its Roman arch and +theatre, as a stopping-place on her return journey +to Paris. There was a glow in her voice that told +clearly of her absorption in her chosen work.</p> + +<p>Rivière was enjoying the frank camaraderie of +their conversation. Suddenly the thought of the +newspaper cutting came back to him sharply. If +Olive had inserted that advertisement, she must +have some special reason for it. Perhaps she +wanted to communicate with him in reference to +the "death" of Matheson. Some hotel-keeper or +railway-guard would no doubt have seen the advertisement +and answered it, letting her know of +Rivière's stay at Arles.</p> + +<p>It would be prudent to write and allay suspicion. +But he could not pen the letter himself, because his +handwriting would be recognized by Olive.</p> + +<p>Rivière solved the difficulty in his usual decisive +fashion. "Miss Verney," he said, "I wonder if +you would do me a very big favour without asking +for my reasons in detail? It's a most unusual +request I'm going to make."</p> + +<p>Elaine remembered her resolve to thaw this man +of ice, and bring him to her feet, and then dismiss +him. She had thawed him already. To do him +some special favour would be a most excellent +means of attaining the second end. She answered:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Anything in reason I'll do gladly."</p> + +<p>"You know that I want to avoid Monte Carlo. +I don't even want my sister-in-law to know that +I'm at Nîmes."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Will you write a letter for me to say that I'm +unwell and can't travel away from Arles?"</p> + +<p>Elaine looked at him searchingly. "It's certainly +a most unusual request to make of a mere acquaintance," +she remarked.</p> + +<p>"I have good reasons for asking it."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll do what you ask."</p> + +<p>"Would you mind coming round to my rooms?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; if you'll wait until I've finished +this sketch."</p> + +<p>She worked on in silence for another quarter of an +hour, completing her picture with rapid, vigorous +brush-strokes. Then he took up her campstool and +easel, and they walked together alongside the Roman +aqueduct to the centre of the town, under an avenue +of tall, spreading plane trees, yellow with the first +delicate leaves of Spring like the feathers of a newborn +chick.</p> + +<p>The sunshine caressed the little garden of the +Villa Clémentine, coquetting with the flaming +cannas, twinkling amongst the pebbles of the paths, +stroking the backs of the lazy goldfish. Seating +Elaine in the arbour, Rivière brought out pen and +ink and a sheet of paper headed "Hotel du Forum, +Place du Forum, Arles," which he happened to have +kept by accident from his visit to the town. +Then he dictated a formal letter to Mrs Matheson, +explaining that he was laid up with a touch of fever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +and would not be able to join her at Monte Carlo. +The illness was not serious, and there was no cause +for anxiety. Nevertheless it kept him tied. He +hoped she would excuse him.</p> + +<p>"There will be a Nîmes postmark on the envelope," +commented Elaine as she wrote the address.</p> + +<p>"No; I shall go over to Arles this afternoon and +post it there. As you know, it's scarcely an hour +away by train." He glanced at his watch. "Past +twelve o'clock already! Won't you stay and take +lunch with me? Madame Giras is famous in Nîmes +for her <i>bouillabaisse</i>."</p> + +<p>She agreed readily, and a dainty lunch was soon +served them in the covered arbour. Over the olives +and <i>bouillabaisse</i> and the <i>œufs provençals</i> they chatted +in easy, friendly fashion about impersonal matters—the +strange charm of Provence, art, music, the +theatre.</p> + +<p>From that the conversation passed imperceptibly +to more personal matters. Elaine, keeping to her +resolve of the morning, led it in that direction. He +learnt that she was an orphan; that her nearest +relatives were entirely out of sympathy with her +ideas and aspirations, and profoundly distasteful to +her; that she took full pride in her independence +and the position she was carving out for herself in +the world of theatrical art.</p> + +<p>"To be free; to be independent; to live your +own life; to know that you buy your bread and +bed with the money you've earned yourself—it's +fine, it's splendid!" said Elaine, with flushed cheek. +"I wonder if men ever have that feeling as strongly +as we women do?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'To be free, sire, is only to change one's master,'" +quoted Rivière.</p> + +<p>"'Master' is a word I should rule out of the +dictionary," she replied.</p> + +<p>"And if ever your present freedom were suddenly +denied to you by Fate?"</p> + +<p>She shivered, and moved a little into the full +blaze of the sunshine.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the afternoon Rivière took train to Arles. The +way lies by vineyards and olive orchards alternating +with open, wind-swept heathland. The stunted +olive trees, twisted and gnarled, pictured themselves +to him as little old men worn and weary with their +fight against the winds. Here the <i>mistral</i> was +master and the olive trees his slaves.</p> + +<p>At Arles Rivière posted his letter in a box on the +platform of the station, and asked of a porter when +the next train would take him back to Nîmes. +Standing close by as he asked this question was a +lean, wiry, crafty-looking peasant of the Camargue—a +hard-bit youth toughened by his work on the +soil. The most prominent feature of the face was +the nose smashed out of shape. Rivière did not +know that it was he himself who had left that life-mark +on the young man only a few days before—he +had almost forgotten the incident—but the +latter recognized Rivière at once and went white +with anger under the tanned skin.</p> + +<p>Whilst he would have taken a blow from the +knife as "all in the game," a smash from a bare +fist that made a permanent disfigurement was +completely outside his code of sportsmanship. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +resented it with the white-hot passion of the +Midi.</p> + +<p>The meeting was pure chance. Crau, the young +Provençal, was on the station to take train back to +his home village in the marshes. Now he made a +sudden resolution, and going to the booking-office, +asked for a ticket for Nîmes. He had relations in +that town—small tradespeople—and he would pay +a visit to them for a few days.</p> + +<p>"Our game is not yet finished, Mr Englishman," +he muttered to himself. "No, not yet finished!"</p> + +<p>When the train reached Nîmes, Rivière alighted +from a first-class compartment, quite unconscious +of being followed by the young Provençal from a +third-class compartment. Outside the station, in +the broad Avenue de la Gare that leads to the heart +of the town, Rivière hailed a cab and gave the +address, Villa Clémentine.</p> + +<p>Crau was near enough to overhear.</p> + +<p>"Villa Clémentine," he repeated to himself, and +again "Villa Clémentine," to fit it securely in his +memory. Then his lips worked with passionate +revenge as he thought: "You have spoilt my +looks, Mr Englishman; and now, <i>sangredieu</i>, to +spoil yours!"</p> + +<p>Before going to his relations, he went first to a +chemist's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">AT THE MAISON CARRÉE</span></h2> + + +<p>The mystery of John Rivière intrigued +Elaine. There was certainly a mysterious +something about this man which she had +not fathomed. His most open confidences held +deep reserves. If he had not avowed himself a +scientist, she would have classed him as a man of +business. In those brief comments on Stock Exchange +speculation, he had spoken in a tone of easy +authority which goes only with intimate knowledge. +He was no recluse, but a man of the world—a man +who had clearly moved amongst men and women +and held his place with ease.</p> + +<p>The idea that he was a boor had been entirely +shelved. But why that brusque, boorish disappearance +from Arles?</p> + +<p>Elaine, thinking matters over in the solitude of +her room on the evening of the second encounter, +was beginning to regret her resolve to humble John +Rivière. It began to appear petty and unworthy. +She had no doubt now that she could bring him to +her feet if she wished, by skilful acting. Or even—in +her thoughts she whispered it to herself—or even +without acting a part.</p> + +<p>But that thought she thrust aside. She had her +work to do in the world—the work that she loved.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +It called imperiously for all her energies. She was +free, she was independent, her daily bread was of +her own buying; and she wished circumstances to +remain as they were.</p> + +<p>Elaine decided to give up her petty resolve. She +would avoid meeting him intentionally, and if they +met, she would bring the plane of conversation +down again to the superficiality of mere tourist +acquaintanceship—"meet to-day and part to-morrow."</p> + +<p>For his part, Rivière had found keen enjoyment +in this frank camaraderie. They met as equals on +the mental plane. Both were profoundly interested +in their respective life-work. They held ideas in +common on a score of impersonal topics. He told +himself that he had behaved very boorishly in his +abrupt departure from Arles. It had been unnecessary, +as Chance had now pointed out to him by this +second accidental encounter. This acquaintanceship +was the merest passing of "ships that pass in +the night"—in a day or two she would be away +and back to Paris, and in all human probability +they would never meet again.</p> + +<p>It was generous of her to have greeted him as +though she had not noticed the abruptness of his +departure from Arles. It was generous of her to +have clipped out the newspaper advertisement and +to have called his attention to it. He mentally +apologized to her for his curt behaviour.</p> + +<p>The next morning, Rivière did not find Elaine at +the Jardin de la Fontaine. He wanted to meet +her. He wanted to let her know indirectly what +he was feeling. And so, almost unconsciously, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +found himself walking away from the Jardin towards +the centre of the town, towards the ruined arena +and the Roman temple known as the Maison Carrée. +Most probably she would be sketching at one or +other of them.</p> + +<p>He found her at the Maison Carrée—a square +Roman temple on which Time has laid no rougher +hand than on a white-haired mother still rosy of +cheek and young of heart. Elaine was sketching it +in her book with the bold lines of the scene-painter, +ignoring detail and working only for the high-lights +and deep shadows. Round her, peeking over her +shoulders and chattering shrilly, were a group of +children. In the background lounged a young +Provençal peasant with a nose twisted out of +shape.</p> + +<p>"Shall I lure the children away?" asked Rivière +as he raised his soft felt hat.</p> + +<p>"Thanks—it would be a relief," answered Elaine, +but with a coldness in her greeting that struck him +as curious.</p> + +<p>A few coppers scattered the children; the peasant +slunk sullenly away. His eye and Rivière's met, +but there was no recognition on the part of the +latter.</p> + +<p>"Are you working this morning?" asked Elaine +presently.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm learning." He nodded towards her +sketch-book. "May I continue the lesson?"</p> + +<p>"Compliments are barred," she replied stiffly. +"I neither give nor take them."</p> + +<p>Rivière groped mentally for the reason of this +curious change of attitude. Yesterday she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +been frankly friendly; to-day she held herself +distinctly aloof. Had he offended her in some +way?</p> + +<p>He continued soberly. "I'm not paying insincere +compliments. It isn't your sketch which interests +me so much as your method of sketching. The +directness of it. The way you get to the heart of +the subject without worrying over detail. The +incisiveness. I'm mentally applying your method +to the problems of my own work.... To stand here +and watch you sketching is pure selfishness on my +part."</p> + +<p>"Like other men, you imagine that women can't +get beyond detail." A flush had come into her +voice. "All through the ages men have been learning +from women and refusing to acknowledge it."</p> + +<p>"In which sphere?"</p> + +<p>"In every sphere."</p> + +<p>"Particularize."</p> + +<p>"Take novel-writing. Men sneer at the woman-novelist—say +that she cannot draw a man to the +life."</p> + +<p>"It's largely true."</p> + +<p>"What's the reason? Because one can't draw +to any satisfaction without models to base on. +Because a man never lets a woman into his innermost +thoughts."</p> + +<p>"That argument ought to cut both ways."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't. Women give up their innermost +secrets to men because——Well, because woman +is the sex that gives and man the sex that takes. +It's been bred in and in through the whole history +of civilization."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Woman the sex that gives? That reverses +the usual idea."</p> + +<p>"You're thinking of the things that don't matter—money, +jewels, dress, mansions, servants. Those +are the cheap things that man gives in return for +the gifts that are priceless."</p> + +<p>Rivière shook his head. "You argue only from +a limited knowledge of the world. There are plenty +of women who take everything—<i>everything</i>—and +give nothing in return. Perhaps you don't know +such women. I do."</p> + +<p>"You mean women of the underworld? They +are as men make them."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm thinking of <i>femmes du monde</i>. There +are plenty of virtuous married women who are as +grasping as the most soulless underworlder. Probably +you don't see them. You look at the world in +a magic crystal that mirrors back your own thoughts +and your own personality in different guises. You +see a thousand YOU's, dressed up as other people."</p> + +<p>Elaine had become very thoughtful. "My magic +crystal—yes." she mused. "But surely everyone +has his or her crystal to look into."</p> + +<p>"Some can keep crystal-vision and reality apart. +That's 'balance' ... And there lies the failure +of the feminists—in 'balance.' They make up a +bundle of all the iniquities of human nature, and +try to dump it on man's side of the fence."</p> + +<p>"I love argument, but art is long and my stay +at Nîmes very brief. To-morrow I must move on +to Orange."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll not disturb you further. I expect +you have a good deal to get through."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. This afternoon it's the Pont du Gard; +this evening the Druids' Tower."</p> + +<p>"This evening! The place is very lonely at +night-time."</p> + +<p>"I know. But I must sketch it in moonlight. +That's essential."</p> + +<p>"Remember Arles," warned Rivière. "You +ought not to be alone."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I know. But I have my work +to do."</p> + +<p>Rivière felt uneasy over the matter. He did +not wish to urge an undesired escort upon her, +but he did not like to think of her working alone +by the solitude of the Druids' Tower at night-time.</p> + +<p>"If I can be of any service to you while you are +here at Nîmes," he said, "you have only to send +a note to the Villa Clémentine."</p> + +<p>With that he said good-bye and left her. It +seemed evident that he had offended her in some +way. Possibly, he thought, it was by asking her +to write that letter to Olive. Though she had +agreed willingly enough at the time, it was possible +that afterwards she had regretted it. It had +offended against her sense of right. Rivière felt +distressed.</p> + +<p>Then the remembrance came to him that this was +the merest tourist acquaintanceship. To-morrow +she would be leaving Nîmes, and the episode +would pass out of her thoughts. Probably they +would never meet again. It was not worth further +thought on either side.</p> + +<p>Resolutely he banished all thoughts of Elaine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +from his mind, and concentrated on his own work-problems.</p> + +<p>From the corner of a lane near the Maison Carrée, +Crau, the young Provençal, had been watching +them keenly as they talked together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">BY THE DRUIDS' TOWER</span></h2> + + +<p>Mme Giras, the proprietress of the Villa +Clémentine, was a rosy, smiling body, +plumped and rounded in almost every +aspect, and with a heart of gold. Yesterday it had +been plain to her shrewd, twinkling eyes that +monsieur and mademoiselle were soon to make a +match of it. Of course it was very shocking that +mademoiselle should be travelling about alone at +her age, but much could be forgiven in so charming +a young lady.</p> + +<p>When Rivière returned to the villa for lunch, he +found the table in the arbour laid for two, and by +one plate a rose had been placed.</p> + +<p>"I have prepared for two," said Mme Giras, +smilingly. "Is it not right?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you; but it will not be necessary," +answered Rivière.</p> + +<p>"After all my preparations! And the lunch +that was to be my <i>chef d'œuvre</i>!" There was keen +disappointment in her voice. "But perhaps +mademoiselle will be coming to dine this evening?"</p> + +<p>"No, nor this evening. Mademoiselle is very +busy with her work. She is to leave Nîmes to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And monsieur also?" There was tragedy in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +her tone. It must mean that monsieur would give +up his rooms to follow the young lady.</p> + +<p>"I shall probably remain here for a month or +more," answered Rivière somewhat stiffly: and then +to salve her feelings: "You are making me wonderfully +comfortable. I shall always associate the +Midi with Mme Giras."</p> + +<p>"<i>Monsieur est bien amiable!</i>" replied the little +old lady, much pleased. She hurried off to the +kitchen to see that Marie was making no error of +judgment in the mixing of the sauces.</p> + +<p>Rivière felt glad that the acquaintanceship with +Elaine had progressed no further. It was decidedly +for the best that it had ended where it had. Both +of them had their life-work to call for all their +energies. Further companionship would only +divert them from it. In his innermost being he +knew that, and now he acknowledged it frankly to +himself. From every point of view, it was best +that their acquaintanceship should end.</p> + +<p>But late that afternoon a brief note came from +Elaine. "Dear Mr Rivière," it said, "I have +considered your warning. If you will be so kind +as to accompany me this evening while I am sketching +the Druids' Tower, I shall be glad. I propose +to leave the hotel about eight."</p> + +<p>Rivière was at her hotel punctually at eight. He +helped her into her warm travelling cloak, and taking +up her campstool and easel they walked briskly, +with healthy, swinging strides, out by the avenue +of plane trees bordering the Roman aqueduct.</p> + +<p>They ascended the now deserted garden on the +hillside till they came to the ruined tower which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +was grey with age when Roman legions first swept +in triumph over the country of the barbarians of +Gaul. A chill wind set the pines and the olives +whispering mournfully together. The windowless +tower brooded over its memories of the past, like +an aged seer blind with years. The moonlight +touched it tentatively as though it feared to disturb +its dreaming.</p> + +<p>It was a perfect stage scene for a secret meeting +of conspirators. In the daylight, the tower was +ugly with its rubble of fallen stones—unkempt like +a ragged tramp—but in the moonlight there was a +glamour of ages in its mournful brooding. Elaine +was right to make her sketch at night-time. Rivière +placed the campstool for her, and watched her in +silence as she plied her pencil with swift, decisive +lines.</p> + +<p>With lithe, catlike softness, the youth Crau had +followed them up the hillside, padding noiselessly +in the shadows of the pines and olives. Crouching +behind a tree, he felt in his breast-pocket and drew +out a small package which he quietly unwrapped +from its foldings. Then he waited his moment +with every muscle tensed for action.</p> + +<p>The night wind was chill. Rivière started to +pace up and down a few steps away from Elaine. +He approached nearer to the tree behind which +Crau was crouching in shadow.</p> + +<p>The lithe, wiry figure of the young Provençal +sprang out upon him.</p> + +<p>"Now you'll pay me what you owe!" he cried +out in Provençal. "You cursed pig of an +Englishman!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rivière did not understand the words, but the +menace in the voice left no doubt as to the meaning. +And the voice brought back to him the narrow +<i>ruelle</i> at Arles where he had defended Elaine from +the insult of the half-drunken peasant.</p> + +<p>He was about to step forward to grapple with +him, when a warning cry from Elaine stopped him +for one crucial instant.</p> + +<p>"Look out! There's something in his hand!" +she called, and rushed impetuously forward to make +her warning clear.</p> + +<p>As she came within range, Crau raised his arm to +throw his vitriol into Rivière's face, but in a fraction +of a second a sudden thought changed the direction +of his aim.</p> + +<p>"Your beautiful mistress! that will serve me +better!" he hissed out venomously as he flung it +full upon Elaine; then fled at top speed.</p> + +<p>"My eyes! Oh God, my eyes!" she cried, as she +staggered to the ground.</p> + +<p>Rivière sprang to her side, white with alarm. +"The beast!"</p> + +<p>"My eyes! Oh God, my eyes!" she moaned. +"My eyes—my livelihood!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">WAITING THE VERDICT</span></h2> + + +<p>Elaine lay in Rivière's room in the +Villa Clémentine. The doctor was injecting +morphine, and a sister of mercy, grave-eyed +under her spotless white coif like a Madonna of +Francia, spoke soft words of comfort to soothe the +agony of the blinded girl.</p> + +<p>In the adjoining room Rivière waited the decision +of the doctor—waited in tense, straining +anxiety.</p> + +<p>From that moment by the Druids' Tower when +the vitriol had been flung upon Elaine, he had lived +through a nightmare. Up on the hillside he was +impotent to relieve her agony. No house around to +take her to. Without a moment's delay he must +get her into the hands of a doctor.</p> + +<p>At first he had tried to lead her down the hillside, +along the winding paths of the gardens, his hands +around her shoulders. It was too slow. Twice the +moaning girl had tripped over unseen obstacles. +Then he caught her up in his arms and ran with +her, the shadows of the trees and the undergrowth +clutching at him like mocking shapes in a Dantesque +vision of the nether world.</p> + +<p>Even when down below the hillside, by the +aqueduct, they were still far from the Villa Clémen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>tine +and yet farther from Elaine's hotel by the +station. Some conveyance was imperative. But +in a quiet country town like Nîmes there are no +cabs to be found wandering around at night-time. +Nor was there carriage or motor-car in sight.</p> + +<p>A peasant's cart drawn by a tiny donkey came +providentially to solve the problem. Rivière laid +Elaine on the straw of the cart; snatched the reins +from the owner; drove home at frantic speed; had +her put to bed in his own room by Mme Giras; +'phoned imperatively for a doctor and a nurse.</p> + +<p>And now he waited in straining anxiety for the +verdict. The waiting was more horrible than the +nightmare flight through the shadows of the garden +on the hillside. That at all events had been action; +now he was being stretched in passive helplessness +on the rack of Time.</p> + +<p>After an æon of waiting, the doctor left the sick-room +and closed the door noiselessly behind him. +Rivière looked him square in the eye.</p> + +<p>"I want the truth," he said in French. The +words sounded as though his throat had closed in +tight around them.</p> + +<p>"We must wait until the morning before it will +be possible that we may say definitely," replied the +doctor.</p> + +<p>"To say if——?"</p> + +<p>"If we can save the right eye."</p> + +<p>"The left?"</p> + +<p>"I greatly fear——" A slight gesture of his +two hands completed the sentence.</p> + +<p>"It's ghastly! That <i>beast</i>——!"</p> + +<p>"But you must not despair," continued the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +doctor in an endeavour to be optimistic. "Madame +is strong and healthy. She has a very sound constitution, +and in such a case as this it is a most +important factor in the recovery. You may rely +on me to do my utmost. I have great hopes that +we may save the right eye of madame, your wife."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," corrected Rivière mechanically.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," amended the doctor with a +formal little bow.</p> + +<p>"You will come again later to-night?"</p> + +<p>"That would serve no useful purpose. I have +injected a large dose of morphine, and mademoiselle +is on the point of sleep. I have left full instructions +with the Sister, and if anything unforeseen occurs, +she will communicate with me by telephone."</p> + +<p>"I have a further question to ask you, doctor. +Mademoiselle Verney is alone in Nîmes. She has +no friends here beyond myself, and she has been +staying at the Hotel de Provence while passing +through the town. Would it be better for her to +be at the hotel, or at the town hospital, or here?"</p> + +<p>"Here—decidedly!" answered the doctor. +"Mme Giras is kindness itself—I know her well. +I recommend that mademoiselle stay here."</p> + +<p>Rivière could do nothing but wait the verdict of +the morning, tortured by hopes and fears. The +doctor had spoken of saving the right eye, but was +this mere professional optimism?</p> + +<p>Suppose Elaine were blinded for life—blinded on +his account. What was she to do for her livelihood? +He knew that she was an orphan; that her relations +were repellant to her; and her pride could scarcely +let her throw herself for long on the hospitality of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +her friends in Paris. Her slender means would +soon be exhausted—what was she to do then?</p> + +<p>With overwhelming conviction Rivière saw the +inevitable solution. She had been blinded while +trying to save him. The debt, the overwhelming +debt, lay on him. He must provide for her, guard +over her.</p> + +<p>If she would accept such help....</p> + +<p>In the cold grey of a mist-shrouded morning he +woke with a new insistent thought hammering into +his brain. For the first time since he had taken up +the personality of John Rivière, doubt surged upon +him in wave after wave of icy, sullen surf. Had he +had the right to cut loose from the life of Clifford +Matheson? Had one alone of a married couple +the right to decide on such a separation? Had he +violated some unwritten law of Fate, and was this +the hand of Fate punishing him through the woman +he cared for more deeply than he had yet confessed +to himself?</p> + +<p>He knew now that from the first moment of their +meeting by the arena of Arles she had opened within +him—against his volition—a whole realm of inner +feelings which up till then had lain dormant. He +had wanted no woman in this new life of his, and +both at Arles and at Nîmes he had tried to shut and +bolt the gate of the secret realm. Sincerely he had +wanted to give his whole thoughts and energies to +his future work, but here was something which persisted +in his inner consciousness against his will. +It was like curtaining the windows and shutting +one's eyes against a storm—in spite of barriers the +lightning slashes through to the retina of the eye.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Was Fate to punish him through the woman he +loved?</p> + +<p>Rivière rose with determination and flung the +thought aside. "Fate" was only a bogey to +frighten children with. "Fate" was a coward's +master. Every man had the right to rough-hew his +own life. He, Rivière, had chosen his new life with +eyes open, and, right or wrong, he would stick by +his choice and hew out his life on his own lines. +If "Fate" were indeed a reality, then he would +fight it as he had fought Lars Larssen. He would +unknot the tangled threads at whatever cost to +himself.</p> + +<p>The doctor looked very grave when he had left +Elaine's bedside the next morning.</p> + +<p>"The injuries are very serious," he told Rivière. +"The cornea of the right eye has almost been destroyed +by the acid. It will heal over, but the sight +will not be as it was before."</p> + +<p>"You mean blinded for life—in both eyes?" +asked Rivière, ruthless for his own feelings.</p> + +<p>"We must not hope for too much," hedged the +doctor. "A great deal depends on the course of +the recovery. I wish not to raise false hopes...."</p> + +<p>"You must pardon what I am going to say, +doctor. I have every confidence in your skill, +but is it not possible that the help of an +eye specialist from Paris or Lyons might be of +service?"</p> + +<p>The doctor put false dignity aside and answered +sympathetically: "You are right, monsieur, a +specialist <i>is</i> needed. As soon as mademoiselle can +stand the long journey, I would advise that she be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +taken to Wiesbaden, to the very greatest specialist +in the world."</p> + +<p>"You mean Hegelmann?"</p> + +<p>"None other."</p> + +<p>"It would not be possible for him to travel to +here?"</p> + +<p>The doctor shook his head decisively. "Only for +kings does he travel. He has too many patients in +his surgical home at Wiesbaden who need him daily."</p> + +<p>"When will mademoiselle be able to make the +journey?"</p> + +<p>"Within the week, I hope."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Information of the attack had of course been +given to the police, who were hot on the trail of the +youth Crau. Meanwhile the local papers sent their +reporters to interview Rivière. He was too well +accustomed to the ways of pressmen to refuse an +interview. He received them and replied with the +very briefest facts of the case, explaining that he +wished to avoid publicity so far as it was possible. +He asked them at all events to leave out names, +as French journals will sometimes do, on request.</p> + +<p>Amongst the callers was an Englishman who sent +in word that he was a local correspondent for the +<i>Europe Chronicle</i>. Rivière had him shown into +the garden of the villa, to the arbour. The would-be +interviewer was a man of thirty, quiet and secretive +looking, with a heavy dark moustache curtaining the +expression of his lips. "Morris Sylvester" was the +name on his card.</p> + +<p>He carried a hand-camera, which he placed on a +seat beside him and pointed it towards the path<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +from the house. As Rivière approached, Sylvester's +left hand was fingering the silent release of the instantaneous +shutter. He had made a practice of +working his camera surreptitiously while his eyes +held the eyes of his subject.</p> + +<p>"Mr Sylvester," began Rivière, "I want to ask +you a favour, as one Englishman to another. +Publicity is extremely distasteful to the lady who +has been so terribly injured. To have her story +spread broadcast for the satisfaction of idle curiosity +would only add to her sufferings. Isn't it possible +for you to suppress this story?"</p> + +<p>Sylvester looked hesitant. "I am sincerely sorry +for the lady," he said. "But of course I have my +duty to my journal. I had intended to wire a full +column, and take a picture of the scene of the +attack by the Druids' Tower." He took up his +camera from the seat beside him, as though to show +his purpose.</p> + +<p>After a moment of reflection he added: "Would +it satisfy you if I were to suppress names?"</p> + +<p>"I would much rather you wrote nothing at all," +replied Rivière. "I know that I can't insist. I +appeal to your generosity in the matter."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Under the circumstances, in deference +to the feelings of your friend, I'll take it on +myself to suppress the story."</p> + +<p>"That's very kind of you. Is there no form of +<i>quid pro quo</i>...?" suggested Rivière tentatively.</p> + +<p>"Thanks—nothing."</p> + +<p>"You'll take something with me before you go?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks—yes."</p> + +<p>Over the glasses Sylvester chatted pleasantly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +about matter of no import, and then brought the +conversation round to the real object of his visit—to +get certain information for Lars Larssen.</p> + +<p>"Your name seems familiar to me, somehow," he +ventured. "Aren't you a scientist, Mr Rivière?"</p> + +<p>"I do a little private research work," was the +guarded admission.</p> + +<p>"I seem to associate your name with that of +Clifford Matheson, the financier."</p> + +<p>"My half-brother."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's it.... A very remarkable man. I +had the pleasure of interviewing him once, at his +office in the Rue Lafitte."</p> + +<p>Rivière knew that for a lie. He had never seen +Sylvester before, to his knowledge, and he had a +keen memory for faces. What was the man driving +at? He must try and discover. With his +long years of business training behind him, Rivière +became suddenly expansive, talking with apparent +frankness without in reality saying anything of +import.</p> + +<p>"As you say, a remarkable man. That is, as a +financier. Personally I have no interests in that +direction. My brother and I have very little in +common. He is the man of affairs, and I am buried +in my work. What was the subject of your interview +with him?"</p> + +<p>"Canada's future. He gave me a splendid interview—first-rate +copy," lied Sylvester. "Have you +seen your brother lately? Is he engaged on any +big scheme just now? Perhaps you could put me +on to a news story in that direction? I should be +glad if you could."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rivière knew that Sylvester was fishing for information +of some kind, but what it was puzzled +him completely, unless the man were now speaking +the truth in his statement that he was on the +look-out for financial news. That seemed the only +solution of the puzzle.</p> + +<p>"I've seen nothing of my brother lately," answered +Rivière. "He's at Monte Carlo, I believe. I'm +sorry not to be able to help you in the matter, but, +as I said before, I'm very little interested in my +brother's movements or plans. His ways and mine +lie apart. If I hear of anything that might be of +service to you, I'll let you know. Will you give me +your address?"</p> + +<p>"Hotel de la Poste will find me. I travel about +the Midi for the <i>Chronicle</i>. They'll send on any +message for me at the hotel."</p> + +<p>"Many thanks for your kindness in the matter +of suppressing the story of the attack," said Rivière, +and his tone intimated that it was now time for the +visitor to leave.</p> + +<p>Sylvester, having gained the objects of his visit, +rose and took his departure. Inside half-an-hour he +had developed an excellent snap-shot of Rivière +walking along the garden path towards him. He +wrote a long letter to Lars Larssen explaining that +John Rivière apparently knew nothing of the disappearance +of Clifford Matheson, and detailing the +story of Elaine and the vitriol outrage.</p> + +<p>With the letter he enclosed a bromide print of the +snapshot.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Inside a room, closely shuttered to keep out the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +light, Rivière was talking earnestly with Elaine a +few days later. The agony of the first days had +died down, but she was absolutely helpless. Her +eyes were bandaged, and she was dependent on the +sister of mercy and Mme Giras for everything.</p> + +<p>"Crau is in prison," said he. "I've given formal +evidence against him, and he is remanded for trial +a month hence. When you are well again, they will +take your evidence on commission. He will undoubtedly +be sentenced to hard labour for some +years."</p> + +<p>"What does it matter to me—now?" There +was despair in her voice.</p> + +<p>"The doctor is very hopeful for you, if you will +put yourself under Hegelmann's care."</p> + +<p>"He can do nothing for me, I feel it. Only useless +expense. No man can give me back the sight I +want for my work."</p> + +<p>"In time," said Rivière gently, but he could not +force conviction into his voice. It went hard with +him to lie to the woman he cared for most in the +world, even to bring temporary comfort to her.</p> + +<p>"My work. Barrèze and the Odéon," she murmured +slowly, speaking to herself rather than to +him. "My work was my life. I remember your +saying to me in the garden, by the arbour, only a +few days ago: 'If Fate were to deny you your +freedom!' I shivered even at the words.... Do +you believe in Fate?"</p> + +<p>Rivière's fist was clenched as he answered: "I'll +fight Fate for both of us."</p> + +<p>She was silent for a few moments. Then she +asked: "Will you write a letter for me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>He brought pen and ink, and waited for her +dictation.</p> + +<p>"My dear Barrèze," she dictated slowly, "you +must find someone else to paint your scenes of +Provence. I am blinded for life——"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me to write that!"</p> + +<p>"I am blinded for life," she continued with the +clear tones of one whose mental vision sees the +future unveiled. "They want me to go to Hegelmann +at Wiesbaden. He is a great man, and will +do for me all that surgical skill can do. There will +be an operation—several, perhaps. It may perhaps +give me a faint gleam of light—enough to tell light +from darkness and to realize more keenly all that I +have lost. I shall never see the theatre again—never +paint again. I shall live on the memories of +the past and the bitter thoughts of what might +have been——"</p> + +<p>"I can't write it!" he cried, torn with the pathos +of the words she bade him put to paper.</p> + +<p>"——of what might have been. My friends of +the theatre must pass out of my life. They can have +no use for a crippled, helpless woman, nor do I wish +to cloud their happiness with my unwanted presence. +Say good-bye to them for me. And you, my dear +Barrèze, I would thank for the chance you gave me. +Your encouragement would have had its reward if +I had kept my sight. But it is gone—gone for +always—and I am wreckage on the rocks...."</p> + +<p>"Elaine, Elaine!" he cried. "You have me by +your side! I ask you to let me devote my life to +you!"</p> + +<p>The answer came gently: "I must not accept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +such a sacrifice. You offer it out of pity for me. +Later, you would repent of it. You have your work +to do and your life to live in the open sunshine.... Yet +don't think me ungrateful. I am deeply +grateful. I shall remember what you said out +of pity for me, and treasure it amongst my dearest +thoughts."</p> + +<p>"It's not pity, Elaine, but——"</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly. The accusing hand of +memory had touched him on the shoulder. He had +no right to make any such offer—it had come from +his heart in passionate sincerity, but it was not his +to give. Olive was still his wife. Disguise it as he +would, he was still Clifford Matheson.</p> + +<p>He must leave Elaine to think that pity alone had +moulded his words. To explain to her now the +shackles of circumstance that bound him fast would +be sheer cruelty, for if she knew the whole truth, +she would send him away from her and refuse even +the temporary help he could give her.</p> + +<p>For Elaine's sake he must keep silent.</p> + +<p>A pause of bitter reflection raised a barrier of +stone between them. When he spoke again, it was +from the other side of the barrier. "At least you +will let me stay by you until you leave Hegelmann's +charge? That I claim.... And I believe he +will be able to do for you much more than you +imagine. He has worked wonders before. He will +do so again. He is the foremost specialist in the +world. All that money can command shall be +yours."</p> + +<p>"Money is terribly useless," said Elaine sadly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">ONLY PITY!</span></h2> + + +<p>What was Elaine to do with her life?</p> + +<p>In those weary days of the sick-room +at Nîmes, and on the long railway journey +through Lyons, Besançon and Strasburg to Wiesbaden, +Elaine had turned over and over, in feverishly +restless search for hope, the possibilities that lay +before her.</p> + +<p>Her total capital was comprised in a few hundred +pounds and the furniture of the flat she shared in +Paris with a girl friend—a student at the Conservatoire. +The money would see her through the +expenses of Dr Hegelmann's nursing home and for +a few months afterwards—a year at the outside. +After that she must inevitably be dependent on the +charity of friends or on some charitable institution.</p> + +<p>The thought of the time when her capital would +be gone was like an icy hand gripping at her heart. +"Money is terribly useless," she had said to Rivière, +but there were times when she wished passionately +that she had the money with which to buy comforts +for a life of blindness. Those were craven moments, +however—moments which she despised when they +were past. Of what use to her would be the silken-padded +cage she had longed to buy, when life held +for her no work, no love?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rivière she had thought of a thousand times. +His every action and word in the days of their first +acquaintanceship came back to her with the wonderful +inner clarity of sight and hearing that belongs +to those who have no outer vision.</p> + +<p>She saw him at the arena of Arles, standing on +the topmost tier a few yards distant from her, +watching the red ball of the sun sink down into the +mists of the grey Camargue. He was aloof and cold—icy, +unapproachable, masked in reserve.</p> + +<p>She saw him in the <i>ruelle</i> of Arles, with the light +from the shuttered window falling on him in bars +of yellow and black, fighting with Berserk fury +against the bare knife of the Provençal youth. +Here he was primitive man unchained—a Rodin +figure with muscles knotted in a riot of hot-blooded +passion. He was battling for her.</p> + +<p>No, not for her, but for the duty that a man owes +to womankind. "I didn't even know it was you," +he had said curtly. That had hurt her at the time, +but now it seared into her. The rescue had meant +nothing—it had brought him no nearer to her. He +was still cold and aloof.</p> + +<p>She saw him in the Jardin de la Fontaine, +lifting his hat with formal politeness and making +to move on. Still aloof, still encased in cold +reserve.</p> + +<p>With deliberate intent she had set herself to melt +him, and she had succeeded. By the arbour of the +Villa Clémentine she saw him, chatting animatedly +in keen enjoyment of her frank camaraderie. But +that was only casual friendship. Still aloof in what +now mattered vitally to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<p>She saw him seeking her out by the Maison Carrée, +standing to watch her sketch and passing to her the +compliment of candid praise. Then he had come +nearer, but by such a little!</p> + +<p>She saw him silvered in the moonlight by the +Druids' Tower, standing at her easel. Here he +would surely have revealed himself if he had had +thoughts to utter of inner feelings. But he had +remained silent.</p> + +<p>Then there rang in her ears his passionate declaration +of the sick-room: "Elaine! Elaine! You +have me by your side! I ask you to let me devote +my life to you!"</p> + +<p>She weighed it scrupulously in the balance of +reason, and judged it Pity. It was the hasty +word of a chivalrous man torn by the sight of +her helplessness. If it had been love, he would +not have been stopped by her refusal. Love is +insistent, headstrong, ruthless of obstacles. Love +would have forced his offer upon her again +and again. Love would have divined the doubt +in her mind. Love would have drowned it in +kisses.</p> + +<p>It was not Love but Pity that Rivière felt for her. +And while she silently thanked him for it, it was +not enough. She would not encumber the life of a +man who felt merely Pity for her. That would be +degradation worse than the acceptance of public +charity.</p> + +<p>Out of all the turmoil of her fevered thoughts +there came this one conclusion: when her last +money had been spent, when there only remained +for her the bitter bread of charity, she would pass<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +quietly out of life to a world where the outer sight +would matter nothing.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, every casual word of Rivière's was +weighed and re-weighed, tested and assayed by her +for the gold that might be hidden within.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">RIVIÈRE IS CALLED BACK</span></h2> + + +<p>There are two sides to Wiesbaden. The +one is with the gay, cosmopolitan life +that saunters along the Wilhelmstrasse and +dallies with the allurements of the most enticing +shops in Germany; suns itself in the gardens of the +Kursaal or on the wind-sheltered slopes of the +Neroberg; listens to an orchestra of master-artists +in the open or to a prima donna in the brilliance of +the opera-house; dines, wines, gambles, dissipates, +burns the lamp of life under forced draught.</p> + +<p>The other side is with the life behind the curtains +of the nursing homes, where dim flickers of life and +health are jealously watched and tended. Wiesbaden +is both a Bond Street and a Harley Street. +Specialists in medicine and surgery have their +consulting rooms a few doors away from those of +specialists in jewellery, flowers or confectionery. +Their names and their specialities are prominent on +door-plates almost as though they were competing +against the lures of the traders.</p> + +<p>But Dr Hegelmann had no need to cry his services +in the market-place. His consulting rooms and +nursing home were hidden amongst the evergreens +of a cool, restful garden well away from the flaunting +life of the Wilhelmstrasse. By the door his name<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +and titles were inscribed in inconspicuous lettering +on a small black marble tablet. His specialty needed +no proclaiming.</p> + +<p>Rivière found the great surgeon curiously uncouth +in appearance. His brown, grey-streaked beard was +longer than customary and ragged in outline; his +eyebrows projected like a sea-captain's; his almost +bald head seemed to be stretched tight over a framework +of knobs and bumps; his clothes were baggy +and shapeless. But all these unessentials faded +away from sight when Dr Hegelmann spoke. His +voice was wonderfully compelling—a voice tuned +to a sympathy all-embracing. His voice could make +even German sound musical. And his hands were +the hands of a musician.</p> + +<p>Before bringing Elaine into the consulting-room, +Rivière explained the facts of the vitriol outrage, +gave into his hands the letter of advice from the +doctor at Nîmes, and then broached the subject of +payment. They spoke in German, because Dr +Hegelmann had steadfastly refused to learn any +language beyond his own. All his energies of learning +had been focused on his one specialty.</p> + +<p>"I want to explain," said Rivière, "that Fraülein +Verney is not well-to-do. She is, I believe, practically +dependent on her profession."</p> + +<p>"Then we shall adjust the scale of payment to +whatever she can afford," answered the doctor +readily. "I value my rich patients only because +they can pay me for my poorer patients."</p> + +<p>"Many thanks. But that was not quite my +meaning. I want to ask you to charge her at the +lowest rate, and allow me to make up the difference."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Without letting her know it."</p> + +<p>"Precisely."</p> + +<p>"That shall be as you wish. I appreciate your +motives." His voice was full of sympathy, giving +a treble value to the most ordinary words. "That +is the action of a true friend."</p> + +<p>Rivière brought Elaine into the consulting-room, +and left her in the great specialist's gentle hands. +An assistant surgeon was there to act as interpreter.</p> + +<p>The verdict came quickly. For a week Elaine +was to be in the surgical home receiving preliminary +treatment, and then Dr Hegelmann was to operate +on her right eye. For the left eye there was no +hope.</p> + +<p>During the week of waiting, Rivière came twice a +day to Elaine's bedside, to chat and read to her.</p> + +<p>One day he told her that he had arranged for the +use of a bench at a private biological laboratory +at Wiesbaden belonging to one of the medical +specialists.</p> + +<p>"That will enable me to begin my research while +you're recovering from the operation. You'll have +no need to think that you might be keeping me here +away from my work."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad. It's very good to have a friend by +one, but I should have worried at keeping you from +your work. Now I'm relieved.... Is the laboratory +here well equipped?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sufficiently for my purposes. Of course +I'm sending to Paris for my own microscope—it's a +Zeiss, with a one-twelfth oil immersion—and I'll +have my own rocker microtome sent over also.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +There's a microtome in the laboratory here, but I +might take weeks to get on terms with it. If you'd +ever worked with the instrument, you'd know how +curiously human it is in its moods and whims. If a +microtome takes a liking to you, she'll work herself +to the bone while you merely rest your hand on the +lever. But if she has some secret objection to you, +she'll pout and sulk, and jib and rear, and generally +try to drive you distracted."</p> + +<p>Elaine smiled. "I notice that man always applies +the feminine gender to anything unreliable in the +way of machinery. If it's sober and steady-going, +you label it masculine, like Big Ben. But if it's +uncertain in action, like a motor-boat, you call it +Fifi or Lolo or Vivienne."</p> + +<p>"That's a true bill," confessed Rivière. "Henceforth +I'll keep to the strictly neutral 'it' when I +mention a microtome."</p> + +<p>"I want to know the nature of your research +work. You've never yet told me except in vague, +general terms."</p> + +<p>Rivière hesitated. It seemed to him scarcely a +subject to discuss with one who herself was in the +hands of the surgeon.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you prefer a more cheerful topic?" +he ventured.</p> + +<p>Elaine appreciated the reason for his hesitation, +and answered: "I want to hear of the spirit behind +your technicalities. It won't depress me in the +least. Please go on."</p> + +<p>Rivière began to explain to her the big idea which +he was hoping to develop in the coming years. +He avoided any details that might seem to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +even a remote personal bearing. He spoke with +enthusiasm—his voice became aglow with inner fire. +And it was clear from her attitude and from the +questions she interjected from time to time that she +realized the value of his idea, appreciated his motives, +and was whole-heartedly interested in what he was +telling her.</p> + +<p>As Elaine listened, a tiny voice within her was +whispering: "Here is your rival." And she felt +glad that her rival was one of high purpose. The +call of science and a high, impersonal aim, touched +her as something sacred.</p> + +<p>Rivière had brought with him a daily paper—the +Frankfort edition of the <i>Europe Chronicle</i>—in +order to read it to her. Thinking that she might +be getting wearied of his personal affairs, he broke +off presently, and with her agreement, opened the +paper at the news pages, calling out the headlines +until she intimated a wish to hear a fuller reading.</p> + +<p>He had finished the news pages for her, and was +about to put the paper aside, when the instinct of +long habit made him glance at the headlines of the +financial page.</p> + +<p>Elaine heard a sudden decisive rustle of the paper +as he folded it quickly, and then came a minute of +silence which carried to her sensitive brain a strange +sensation of tenseness.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked. "Won't you read it +out?"</p> + +<p>Rivière's voice had altered completely when he +answered her. There was now a reserved, constrained +note in it. "An item of news which +touches me personally," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Am I not to hear it?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather you didn't ask me."</p> + +<p>There was silence again. Rivière sat stiff with +rigid muscles while he thought out the bearings of +the news item he had just read. Then he asked her +to excuse him on a matter of immediate urgency.</p> + +<p>At the post office he managed after some waiting +to get telephonic communication with the Frankfort +office of the <i>Europe Chronicle</i>.</p> + +<p>"Tell the financial editor that Mr John Rivière +wants to speak to him," he said authoritatively. +"Please put me through quickly. I'm on a trunk +wire."</p> + +<p>After a pause the stereotyped reply came that the +financial editor was out. His assistant was now +speaking, and would take any message. Clifford +Matheson would not have had such an answer made +to him, but Rivière was an unknown name. He +realized that he must now cool his heels in anterooms, +and communicate with chiefs through the +medium of their subordinates.</p> + +<p>"You have an item in to-day's paper regarding +the forthcoming notation of Hudson Bay Transport, +Ltd. Mr Clifford Matheson's name is mentioned as +Chairman. I should very much like to know if you +have had confirmation of that item, and from where +it was obtained."</p> + +<p>"Hold the line, please. I'll make enquiries."</p> + +<p>Presently the answer came. "Why do you wish +to know?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Matheson is my half-brother, and though I'm +in close touch with him, I've had no intimation of +any such move on his part."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hold the line, please."</p> + +<p>Another pause ensued, followed by the formal +statement. "The news came to us last night from +our Paris office. We believe it to be correct. Do +we understand that you wish to deny it?"</p> + +<p>"No; I want to get confirmation of it. Thanks—good-bye."</p> + +<p>Then he asked the post-office for a trunk call to +Paris, and after an hour's wait he was put in touch +with the headquarters of the <i>Europe Chronicle</i>. +The second 'phone conversation proved as unsatisfactory +as the first. A financial editor of a +responsible journal does not talk freely with any +unknown man who rings him up on a hasty trunk +call. The reply came that the information in +question reached the paper from a perfectly reliable +source. If Mr Rivière cared to call at the office, +they would give him proof of the accuracy of their +statement. They could not discuss such a matter +over the 'phone.</p> + +<p>Rivière urged that he was speaking from Wiesbaden.</p> + +<p>They were sorry, but they did not care to discuss +the matter over the 'phone. He must either take +their word for it that the information was correct, +or else call in person at the Paris office.</p> + +<p>It was clear to Rivière that he must make the +journey to Paris if he were to unravel the mystery +of that astounding statement. The dead Clifford +Matheson mentioned authoritatively as Chairman +of the new company! Why should such an impossible +story be set afloat, and what was the "reliable +source" spoken of? He knew that the <i>Europe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +Chronicle</i> though a sensational paper, would not +print self-invented fiction on its financial page.</p> + +<p>"I have an urgent call to Paris," he told Elaine. "I +hope you will excuse my running away so brusquely? +I'll be back before the day of your operation."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I excuse you," she replied readily. +"I know that something very important is calling +you. And in any case, what right would I have to +say yes or no to a private decision of your own?"</p> + +<p>There leapt in her a sudden hope that he would +answer from the heart. But his reply held nothing +beyond a bare statement. "This matter is extremely +urgent. I propose to catch a night train to Paris +and be back by to-morrow evening. Is there anything +I can do for you before I go?"</p> + +<p>"I have everything ... but my sight."</p> + +<p>"And that, Dr Hegelmann will give you within +the month!" he affirmed.</p> + +<p>In Paris early the next morning, Rivière sought +out the financial editor of the <i>Europe Chronicle</i>. +At a face-to-face interview, Rivière's personality +impressed, and the newspaper man showed himself +quite willing to prove the <i>bona fides</i> of his journal.</p> + +<p>"If you will step into the adjoining room," he +said, "I'll send you the reporter who brought us +the information. Ask him any questions you like. +I've perfect confidence in him, and I stand by any +statement of his we print. I don't think people +realize how careful we are on financial matters—they +seem to think that a popular paper will print +any sort of <i>canard</i> offhand."</p> + +<p>There followed Rivière into the next room a tubby +rosy-faced little man, brisk and smiling. "Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +sir, what can I do for you?" he rattled off cheerfully. +"The financial editor tells me that I'm to preach to +you the gospel of the infallibility of the <i>Chronicle</i>. +What's the particular text you're heaving bricks at?"</p> + +<p>Jimmy Martin's infectious good-humour brought +an answering smile from Rivière. "I'm not casting +doubts on the modern-day Bible," he replied. "I'm +seeking information. I want to know who told you +that Clifford Matheson, my half-brother, is to head +the Board of Hudson Bay Transport, Ltd."</p> + +<p>"I have it straight from the stable—from Lars +Larssen."</p> + +<p>Rivière's face did not move a muscle—he was still +smiling pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Larssen and I are old pals," continued Martin +briskly. "So when he was passing through Paris +the other day he 'phoned me to the effect of come +and crack a bottle with me, come and let's reminisce +together over the good old days. I went; and he +gave me the juicy little piece of news you saw in +yesterday's rag. We saved up some of it for to-day—have +you seen? Clifford Matheson heads the +festal board, and the other revellers at the guinea-feast +are the Right Hon. Lord St Aubyn, Sir Francis +Letchmere, Bart., and G. Lowndes Hawley Carleton-Wingate, +M.P. Lars Larssen sits below the salt—to +wit, joins the Board after allotment. The capital +is to be a cool five million, and if I were a prophet +I'd tell you whether they'll get it or not."</p> + +<p>"Thanks—that's just what I wanted to know."</p> + +<p>"You withdraw the bricks?"</p> + +<p>"Unreservedly.... By the way, do you know +where my brother is at the moment?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Vague idea he's in Canada. Don't know where +I get it from. Those sort of things are floating in +the air."</p> + +<p>"Where is Larssen?"</p> + +<p>"He was going on to London—dear old foggy, +fried-fishy London! Ever notice that London is +ringed around with the smell of fried fish and +naphtha of an evening? The City smells of caretakers; +and Piccadilly of patchouli; and the West +End of petrol; but the smell of fish fried in tenth-rate +oil in little side-streets rings them around and +bottles them up. In Paris it's wood-smoke and +roast coffee, and I daresay heaps healthier, but I +sigh me for the downright odours of old England! +Imitaciong poetry—excuse this display of emotion."</p> + +<p>When Rivière left the office of the journal on the +Boulevard des Italiens, he made his way rapidly to +No. 8 Rue Laffitte, second floor. There he inquired +for Clifford Matheson, and was informed that the +financier was in Winnipeg.</p> + +<p>"You're certain of that?" asked Rivière.</p> + +<p>"Quite, sir!" answered the clerk in surprise. +"We get cables from him giving addresses to send +letters to. If you'd like anything forwarded, sir, +leave it here and we shall attend to it."</p> + +<p>It was now clear beyond doubt that Lars Larssen +was playing a game of unparalleled audacity. He +had somehow arranged to impersonate the "dead" +Clifford Matheson, and was using the impersonation +to float the Hudson Bay scheme on his own +lines.</p> + +<p>Rivière flushed with anger at the realization of +how Lars Larssen was using his name.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>But that was a trifle compared with the main +issue. When he had fought Lars Larssen, it was +not a mere petty squabble over a division of loot. +The Hudson Bay scheme was no mere commercial +machine for grinding out a ten per cent. profit. If +successful, it meant an entire re-organization of the +wheat traffic between Canada and Great Britain. +It meant, in kernel, the control of Britain's bread-supply. +It affected directly fifty millions of his +fellow-countrymen.</p> + +<p>For that reason Rivière had refused to lend his +name to a scheme under which Lars Larssen would +hold the reins of control. He knew the ruthlessness +of the man and his overweening lust of power, +which had passed the bounds of ordinary ambition +and had become a Napoleonic egomania.</p> + +<p>In refusing to act on the Board, Rivière had made +an altruistic decision. But now the same problem +confronted him again in a different guise. If he +remained silent, the scheme would in all probability +be floated in his name to a successful issue. If he +remained silent, he would be betraying fifty millions +of his fellow-countrymen.</p> + +<p>He had thought to strike out from the whirlpool +into peaceful waters, but the whirlpool was sucking +him back.</p> + +<p>Weighing duty against duty, he saw clearly that +he must at once confront Larssen and crumple up +his daring scheme. And so he wired to Elaine:</p> + +<p>"An urgent affair calls me to London. Shall +return to you at the earliest possible moment. +Address, Avon Hotel, Lincoln's Inn Fields."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">NOT WANTED!</span></h2> + + +<p>In the train Calaiswards, Rivière felt as though +he had just plunged into an ice-cold lake fed by +torrents from the snow-peaks, and had emerged +tingling in every fibre with the glow of health.</p> + +<p>The course before him was straight; the issue +clean-cut. He had only to confront Lars Larssen to +bring the latter to his knees. If there were opposition, +the threat of a public prosecution would brush +it aside.</p> + +<p>He must resume the personality of Clifford +Matheson; return to Olive; settle a generous income +on Elaine. He must wind up his financial +affairs and devote himself to the scientific research +he had planned.</p> + +<p>A straight, clean course.</p> + +<p>He looked forward eagerly to the moment when he +would walk into Larssen's private office and smash +a fist through his hoped-for control of Hudson Bay. +Until that moment, he would keep outwardly to the +identity of John Rivière. But already he was +feeling himself back in the personality of Clifford +Matheson—the hard, firm lines had set again around +his mouth, the look of masterfulness was in his eye.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Channel was in its sullen mood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>Overhead, skies were grey with ragged, shapeless +cloud; below, the waters were the colour of slag +and slapping angrily against the plates of the starboard +bow under the drive of a wind from the +north-east. The ashen cliffs of Dover came to meet +the packet reluctant and inhospitable. By the +harbour-entrance, a petulant squall of rain beat +upon them as though to shoo them away. The +landing-stage was slippery and slimy with rain, +soot, and petrol drippings from the motor-cars +shipped to and fro. Customs-house officers eyed +them with tired suspicion; porters took their +money and hastened away with the curtest of +acknowledgments; an engine panted sullenly as it +waited for never-ending mail-bags to be hauled up +from the bowels of the packets and dumped into the +mail-van.</p> + +<p>England had no welcome for Rivière at her front +door.</p> + +<p>Through the Weald of Kent, where spring comes +early, this April afternoon showed the land still +naked and cold. On the coppices, dispirited catkins +drooped their tassels from the wet branches +of the undergrowth, but the young leaves lurked +within their brown coverings as though they shivered +at the thought of venturing out into the bleak air. +On the oaks, dead leaves from the past autumn +clung obstinately to their mother-branches. The +hop-lands were a dreary drab; hop-poles huddled +against one another for warmth; streams ran +swollen and muddy and rebellious.</p> + +<p>"The Garden of England" had no welcome for +Rivière.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>They swerved through Tonbridge Junction, +glistening sootily under a drizzle of rain, and dived +into the yawning tunnel of River Hill as though +into refuge from the bleakness of the open country. +Two fellow-travellers with Rivière were discussing +the gloomy outlook of a threatened railway strike +which rumbled through the daily papers like +distant thunder. Fragment of talk came to his +ears:—</p> + +<p>"Minimum wage.... Damned insolence.... Tie +up the whole country.... Have them all +flogged to work.... Not a statesman in the +House.... Weak-kneed set of vote-snatchers.... If +I had my way...."</p> + +<p>The train ran them roof-high through endless +vistas of the mean grey streets of south-east London, +where the street-lamps were beginning to throw out +a yellow haze against the murky drizzle of the late +afternoon; slowed to a crawl in obedience to the +raised arms of imperious signals; stopped over +viaducts for long wearisome minutes while flaunting +sky-signs drummed into the passengers the superabundant +merits of Somebody's Whisky or Somebodyelse's +Soap.</p> + +<p>Half-an-hour late at the terminus, Rivière had +his valise sent to the Avon Hotel, hailed a taxi, and +told the man to drive as fast as possible to Leadenhall +Street. In that narrow canon of commerce +was a large, substantial building bearing the simple +sign—a sign ostentatious in its simplicity—of +"Lars Larssen—Shipping."</p> + +<p>"Tell Mr Larssen that Mr John Rivière wishes to +see him," he said to a clerk at the inquiry desk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr Larssen left the office not +ten minutes ago."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me where he went to?"</p> + +<p>"If you'll wait a moment, sir, I'll send up an +inquiry to his secretary. What name did you +say?"</p> + +<p>"Rivière—John Rivière. The brother of Mr +Clifford Matheson."</p> + +<p>Presently the answer came down the house 'phone +that Mr Larssen had gone to his home in Hampstead.</p> + +<p>Rivière re-entered the taxi and gave an address +on the Heath. He wanted to thrash out the matter +with Larssen with the least possible delay. He +would have preferred to confront the shipowner in +his office, but since that plan had miscarried, he +would seek him out in his private house.</p> + +<p>Near King's Cross another taxi coming out from +a cross-street skidded as it swerved around the +corner, and jolted into his own with a crash of glass +and a crumple of mudguards. Delay followed while +the two chauffeurs upbraided one another with +crimson epithets, and gave rival versions of the +incident to a gravely impartial policeman. When +Rivière at length reached Hampstead Heath, it was +to find that the shipowner had just left the house.</p> + +<p>Rivière explained to the butler that it was very +important he should reach Larssen without delay, +and his personality impressed the servant as that +of a visitor of standing. He therefore told Rivière +what he knew.</p> + +<p>"Mr Larssen changed into evening dress, sir, and +went off in his small covered car. I don't know +where he's gone, sir, but he told me if anything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +important arose I was to ring him up at P. O. +Richmond, 2882."</p> + +<p>That telephone number happened to be quite +familiar to Rivière. It was the number of his own +house at Roehampton.</p> + +<p>He jumped into the waiting taxi once again, and +ordered the chauffeur to drive across London to +Barnes Common and Roehampton. If he could +not confront Larssen at office or house, he would +run him to earth that evening in his own home. +No doubt Larssen was going there to talk business +with Sir Francis.</p> + +<p>Roehampton is a country village held within the +octopus arms of Greater London. Round it are a +number of large houses with fine, spacious grounds—country +estates they were when Queen Victoria +ascended the throne of England. At Olive's special +choice, her husband had purchased one of the +mansions and had it re-decorated for her in modern +style. She liked its nearness to London proper—it +gave her touch with Bond Street and theatreland +in half-an-hour by fast car. She liked its spacious +lawns and its terraced Italian garden—they were +so admirable for garden parties and open-air +theatricals. She liked the useless size of the house—it +ministered to her love of opulence.</p> + +<p>Rivière had grown to hate it in the last few +years.</p> + +<p>The name of the estate was "Thornton Chase." +The approach lay through a winding drive bordered +by giant beeches, and passed one of the box-hedged +lawns to curl before a front door on the further side +of the house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p>When at the very gates another delay in that +evening of delays occurred. This time it was a +tyre-burst. Rivière, impatient of further waste of +time, paid off the chauffeur and started on foot +along the entrance drive. The drizzle of the afternoon +had ceased, and a few stars shone halfheartedly +through rents in the ragged curtain of +cloud, as though performing a duty against their +will.</p> + +<p>When passing through the box-hedged lawn as a +short cut to the front door, one of the curtains of +the lighted drawing-room was suddenly thrown +back, and the broad figure of man stood framed in +a golden panel of light. It was Lars Larssen.</p> + +<p>Rivière stopped involuntarily. It was as though +his antagonist had divined his presence and had come +boldly forward to meet him. And, indeed, +that was not far from the fact. Larssen, waiting +alone in the drawing-room, had had one of his strange +intuitive impulses to throw wide the curtain and +look out into the night. Such an impulse he never +opposed. He had learnt by long experience that +there were centres of perception within him, uncharted +by science, which gathered impressions too +vague to put a name to, and yet vitally real. He +always gave rein to his intuition and let it lead him +where it chose.</p> + +<p>Looking out into the night, the shipowner could +not see Rivière, who had stopped motionless in the +shadow of a giant box clipped to the shape of a +peacock standing on a broad pedestal.</p> + +<p>Rivière waited.</p> + +<p>Presently Larssen turned abruptly as though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +someone had entered the room. A smile of welcome +was on his lips. Olive swept in, close-gowned in +black with silvery scales. She offered her hand with +a radiant smile, and Larssen took it masterfully and +raised it to his lips. Rivière noted that it was not +the shipowner who had moved forward to meet +Olive, but Olive who had come gladly to him.</p> + +<p>They stood by the fireplace, and Olive chatted +animatedly to her guest. Rivière scarcely recognized +his wife in this transformation of spirit. +With him she was cold and abrupt, and captious, +eyes half-lidded and cheeks white and mask-like. +Now her eyes flashed and sparkled, and there was +warm colour in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>Of what Olive and Larssen said to one another, +no word came to Rivière. But attitude and gesture +told him more than words could have done. It was +as though he were a spectator of a bioscope drama, +standing in darkness while a scene was being pictured +for him in remorseless detail behind the lighted +window. That Olive's feeling for Larssen had +grown beyond mere friendship was plain beyond +question. She was infatuated with the man; and +he was playing with her infatuation.</p> + +<p>For a moment Rivière's fist clenched; then his +fingers loosened, and he watched without stirring. +Larssen must, in view of his action on the Hudson +Bay coup, believe Matheson to be dead. To him, +Olive was now a widow. Therefore Rivière had no +quarrel with the shipowner on the ground of what he +was now witnessing. His desire to crumple Larssen +in the hollow of his hand and fling him into the mud +at his feet was based on very different grounds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>On the other hand, Olive must believe Matheson +to be alive. Larssen would have told her that her +husband was away in Canada on business for a few +weeks, and he would keep up the fiction until the +Hudson Bay scheme were floated to a public +issue.</p> + +<p>That Rivière could watch the scene pictured before +him without stirring—could watch in silence the +spectacle of his wife's infatuation for another man—might +seem superficially as the height of cynical +cold-bloodedness. Yet nothing could be farther +from the truth. Rivière was a man of very deep +and very strong feelings held habitually under a +rigid control. Self-control is very often mistaken +superficially for cold-bloodedness, just as heartiness +is mistaken for big-heartedness.</p> + +<p>He was balanced enough to hold no blame +for Olive. Within two years of marriage he had +plumbed her to the depths. It was not in her to +be more than a reckless spender of other people's +money and other people's lives. She was born to +waste just as another is born to create. The way +in which she was throwing herself at Larssen during +his absence for a few weeks was typical of her inborn +character, which nothing could uproot.</p> + +<p>It was clear beyond doubt that Olive did not want +him back. She preferred him out of her way. If +he could disappear for ever, leaving his fortune in +her hands, she would unquestionably be glad of it. +What he had in fact brought about by taking up +the personality of John Rivière was what she seemed +most to desire.</p> + +<p>He was coming home as an intruder. Even in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +own house there would be no welcome for him. +<i>He was not wanted.</i></p> + +<p>There was a sudden stiffening on the part of Olive, +as though she heard someone about to enter the +room. Sir Francis came in, shook hands cordially +with Larssen, and all three made their way to +dinner.</p> + +<p>Rivière was left looking into an empty room. +With sudden decision he made his way out of the +grounds of Thornton Chase. He would see the +shipowner to-morrow in his office at Leadenhall +Street rather than thrash out the coming quarrel in +front of Olive and Sir Francis.</p> + +<p>His duty lay in taking up once more the role of +Clifford Matheson and returning to Olive's side. +Though what he had seen that evening made the +duty trebly distasteful, he must carry it out to the +end. Yet to himself he was glad of the short respite. +For one night more he would breathe freedom as +John Rivière.</p> + +<p>Only one night more!</p> + +<p>For the moment, time was no object to him, and +he proceeded on foot through Roehampton village +and by the sodden coppices of Putney Heath to the +Portsmouth high road and the railway station of +East Putney.</p> + +<p>He waited at the station until an underground +train snaked its way in like a giant blindworm, and +went with it to the Temple and so to the quiet +hotel he had chosen in Lincoln's Inn Fields. On +his way, he sent off a telegram to the shipowner +stating that John Rivière would call at Leadenhall +Street at eleven o'clock in the morning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the coffee-room of the Avon Hotel he sat down +to write a long letter to Elaine which would explain +all that had been hidden from her. Without +sparing himself one jot he told her of the circumstances +of his life since the crucial night of March +14th, and of the deception he carried out with her +as well as with the rest of the world. It was long +past midnight before he put to the letter the signature +of "Clifford Matheson."</p> + +<p>And then with a stab of pain he remembered that +Elaine could not read it. There were passages in +the letter which must not be read to her by any +outside person. It was evident that what he had +to tell her would have to be said by word of mouth.</p> + +<p>Rivière tore up his letter into small fragments +and burnt them carefully in the grate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">A THRONE-ROOM</span></h2> + + +<p>Dinner was over at Thornton Chase, and +the three were back in the drawing-room—Olive, +Larssen, and Sir Francis. The men +smoked at Olive's request; and she herself lighted +one of a special brand of cigarettes which she had +made for her by Antonides.</p> + +<p>"I hate to have my drawing-room smelling of +afternoon-tea and feminine chit-chat," she explained. +"The two Carleton-Wingate frumps called +on me this afternoon for a couple of solid hours' +boring, which they dignify to themselves as a duty +call. Please smoke away the remembrance of them."</p> + +<p>"The Carleton-Wingates are a useful crowd," +said Larssen. "There's an M.P., a major-general +and a minister plenipotentiary amongst them."</p> + +<p>"Give me those to deal with, and you entertain +the twin frumps," answered Olive. "Twins are +always hateful in a room, because they sit together +and chorus their comments together, just as if they +were one mind with two bodies. You feel as if you +ought to split yourself in two and devote half to +each, so as not to cause jealousy. But twin old +maids are especially hateful."</p> + +<p>"A very old family," was Letchmere's comment. +"They go back to Henry VII."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What's the entertainment for to-night?" asked +Olive of Larssen.</p> + +<p>"I propose to take you to the new Cabaret," +said he.</p> + +<p>"First-rate!"</p> + +<p>"But it doesn't start until ten-thirty. We've +plenty of time. First, I want you to play to +me."</p> + +<p>Olive went over to the piano, and Larssen followed +to light the candles and turn back the case of +polished rosewood inlaid with ivory.</p> + +<p>She laid her fingers on the keys and looked up at +him expectantly.</p> + +<p>"Something lively," he ordered, and she rattled +into the latest success of the musical comedy stage. +Such as it was, she played it brilliantly. To-night +she was in that morphia mood of the terrace of +Monte Carlo when she had first told him of her +contempt for her husband.</p> + +<p>Under cover of the playing, while Sir Francis +was reading a novel of turf life, Olive whispered: +"Can't we have a few moments together by +ourselves?"</p> + +<p>"I'll arrange it," answered Larssen.</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose we drop your father at the Cabaret +while we go on to see my offices?"</p> + +<p>"Offices—at night-time!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"My staff work all night there—I have a night-shift +as well as a day-shift. In fact, the offices are +busier at night-time than in the day-time."</p> + +<p>"Isn't that a very unusual arrangement?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It enables me to deal with routine-work<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +while the other fellow's asleep. That's always been +one of my business principles: get to-morrow's +work done to-day; get a twelve hours' start of the +other man."</p> + +<p>"How typical of you!"</p> + +<p>"My place is thoroughly worth seeing. Suppose +I show you over it?"</p> + +<p>Larssen's pride in his office was fully justified. +There was nothing in London, nothing in England +to match it as a perfect business machine. And +there was no private office in Europe which could +compare in impressiveness with Larssen's own.</p> + +<p>Things went as he arranged, and from the busy +hive of industry on the ground and first floors he +took Olive to his private room on the second. It +was a room some thirty yards long and broad in +proportion, with a central dome reaching above the +roof. A few broad tables were almost lost in its +immensity. Round the walls were maps dotted +with flag-pins telling of the position of ships. At +the further end was Larssen's own work-table—a +horseshoe-shaped desk. Above and behind it hung +a portrait of his little boy by Sargent.</p> + +<p>"It's almost a throne-room!" was Olive's exclamation +of wonder.</p> + +<p>Larssen smiled his pleasure. It <i>was</i> a throne-room. +He had designed it as such. His private +house at Hampstead mattered little to him. His +house on Riverside Drive, New York, and his great +forest estate in the Adirondacks mattered almost as +little. His real home was at the office.</p> + +<p>"In my New York office, and in every one of my +other offices round the world, there's a room like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +this. I alone use it. When I'm away, it stands for +me. It's my sign."</p> + +<p>"Above there," he continued, pointing to the +central dome, "is the wireless apparatus which keeps +me in touch with my ships. From ship to ship and +office to office I can send my orders round the +world. I'm independent of the wires and the cables."</p> + +<p>"That's epic!" she said, using the word she had +used before when he spoke to her of his early career. +No other word fitted Lars Larssen so closely.</p> + +<p>"Heard from Clifford lately?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"Only a brief cable from Winnipeg."</p> + +<p>"I had a letter telling me things are going well, +but not as quickly as he expected. That letter +would be a week old by now. Every moment I'm +expecting to hear that his work is put through and +sealed up tight."</p> + +<p>"I'm not anxious to have him back. If you only +could realize how he bores me to extinction."</p> + +<p>She waited for an expression of sympathy.</p> + +<p>"You've borne with it very bravely," he said, +knowing that to a woman like Olive no compliment +is dearer than to be called "brave."</p> + +<p>"Not that I want to say a word against Clifford," +he added quickly. "He's a very clever man of +business, and I admire him for it. But a woman +wants more than cleverness."</p> + +<p>"How well you understand!" said Olive. "So +few know me as I really am. If only we had met +before——"</p> + +<p>She stopped abruptly as a door opened at the +farther end of the room. Morris Sylvester entered +briskly with a telegram in his hand. As confidential<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +secretary, it was his duty to open all telegrams and +most of the letters addressed to his chief. Sylvester +passed the open telegram to Larssen, saying:</p> + +<p>"Excuse my interruption. This telegram just +arrived seems important. I thought you would +like to see it."</p> + +<p>"Thanks." Larssen glanced over it. "No answer +necessary."</p> + +<p>Sylvester withdrew.</p> + +<p>"It's a wire from your gay brother-in-law," said +Larssen to Olive.</p> + +<p>"From John Rivière! Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"In London. He proposes to call on me to-morrow +morning at eleven."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what he has to say."</p> + +<p>"I'm completely in the dark."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to meet him."</p> + +<p>"Shall I send him on to Roehampton after he's +seen me?"</p> + +<p>Olive reflected that Rivière might not want to see +her, in view of the way he had avoided her so far. +She answered: "Ring me up on the 'phone when +he's in your office. I'll speak to him over the wire."</p> + +<p>"Right—I'll remember.... By the way, about +the Hudson Bay company, did I tell you that the +underwriting negotiations are going through fine? +Inside a week we ought to be ready for flotation."</p> + +<p>Larssen proceeded to enlarge on the subject, and +the broken thread of Olive's avowal was not taken +up again. They left the offices, and drove back to +the Cabaret to rejoin Sir Francis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">BEATEN TO EARTH</span></h2> + + +<p>At eleven o'clock the next morning, the shipowner +was at the horseshoe desk in his throne-room, +fingering the snapshot of Rivière which +Sylvester had secured at Nîmes. He had seen in it +the picture of a man very like Clifford Matheson, +but not for a moment had he thought of it as the +portrait of the financier himself. The shaven lip, +the scar across the forehead, the differences of hair +and collar and tie and dress had combined to make +a thorough disguise.</p> + +<p>Yet when the visitor entered by the farther door +of the throne-room and came striding resolutely +down the thirty yards of carpet, Lars Larssen knew +him. The carriage and walk were Matheson's.</p> + +<p>For a moment hot rage possessed him. Not at +Matheson, but at himself. He ought to have guessed +before. This was the one possibility he had completely +overlooked. Matheson had tricked him by +shamming death. He ought not to have let himself +be tricked. That was inexcusable.</p> + +<p>A moment later he had regained mastery of himself, +and a succession of plans flashed past his mental +vision, to be considered with lightning speed. The +financier held the whip-hand—and the whip must +be torn from him ... somehow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sit down, Matheson," said the shipowner calmly, +when his antagonist had reached the horseshoe +desk.</p> + +<p>Neither man offered to shake hands.</p> + +<p>Matheson took the seat indicated, and waited for +Larssen to begin.</p> + +<p>Larssen knew the value of silence, however, and +Matheson was forced to open.</p> + +<p>"You thought me dead?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I knew you had disappeared for private reasons +of your own. I discovered those reasons, and so I +respected your privacy," was the calm reply.</p> + +<p>"You had the cool intention of using my name in +the Hudson Bay prospectus as though I had given +you sanction for it."</p> + +<p>"You did give me sanction."</p> + +<p>"Written?"</p> + +<p>"No; your word."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"At our last interview at your Paris office. You +passed your word—an Englishman's word—and I +took it."</p> + +<p>Matheson ignored the cool lie. "Let's get down +to business," he said.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure. What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"When we last met," continued Matheson slowly, +"I wanted you to assign half of your four million +Deferred Shares to Lord ——, to be held in trust +for the general body of shareholders. Well, now—<i>now</i>—I +want the whole four million assigned."</p> + +<p>"And you propose that I should give them up for +nothing?" queried Larssen ironically.</p> + +<p>"For £200,000 in ordinary shares. The monetary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +value is the same. The difference would be that +you'll have two hundred thousand with your own +money, not the British public's."</p> + +<p>There was silence while the two men eyed one +another relentlessly. At the side of Larssen's forehead, +under the temple, a tiny vein throbbed and +jerked. That was the only outward sign of the +feelings of murder which lay in his heart.</p> + +<p>"You have your nerve!" he commented.</p> + +<p>"I'm offering you easy terms."</p> + +<p>"Offer <i>me</i> terms!"</p> + +<p>"Easy terms," repeated Matheson. "I could, if +I chose, step from here to my lawyers' and have you +indicted for conspiracy. I could get you seven to +ten years. I could have you breaking stones at +Portland."</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I have my private reasons."</p> + +<p>"One of them being that you haven't a shred of +evidence," was the cool reply.</p> + +<p>"Who sends cables in my name to my managers?" +demanded Matheson.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of that."</p> + +<p>"You <i>do</i> know it. One of your employees sends +them."</p> + +<p>"Have you such a cable with you?"</p> + +<p>Matheson ignored the retort. "You've told my +wife and my father-in-law that I was alive."</p> + +<p>"I knew you <i>were</i> alive. Is that your idea of +fraud?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to quibble over words. Believing +me to be dead, you had me impersonated, planning +to use my name on the Hudson Bay scheme."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've not used your name."</p> + +<p>"You used it to induce St Aubyn and Carleton-Wingate +to come on the Board."</p> + +<p>"If you're thinking to prove that, you merely +waste your time. The negotiations were carried out +by your father-in-law."</p> + +<p>"You used my name to a reporter on the <i>Europe +Chronicle</i>."</p> + +<p>"Have you written evidence of that?"</p> + +<p>"Martin will swear to it, if necessary."</p> + +<p>Larssen laughed harshly. "An out-of-elbows +reporter on a sensational yellow journal! Do you +dream for one instant that his word would stand +against mine in a court of law? See here, Matheson, +you'd better go back and read over your brief with +the man who's instructing you. He's muddled up +the facts."</p> + +<p>"Then what are the facts?" challenged +Matheson.</p> + +<p>Lars Larssen took a deep breath before he leaned +forward across the horseshoe desk to answer. At +the same time he moved a hidden lever under the +desk. This was a device allowing any conversation +of his to be heard telephonically in the adjoining +room where his private secretary worked. It was +useful occasionally when he needed an unseen +listener to a business interview of his; and now he +particularly wanted Sylvester to hear what he and +Matheson were saying to one another. It would +give Sylvester his cue if he were to be called in at +any point.</p> + +<p>"Matheson," said the shipowner, "the facts of +your case don't make a very edifying story. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +you're sure you want to hear them as you'd hear +them in a court of law, I'll spare another five minutes +to tell you. You're quite certain you'd like to hear +the outside view of your actions this past three +weeks?"</p> + +<p>"I'm listening."</p> + +<p>With brutal directness Larssen proceeded: "On +the night of March 14th, you decided you were tired +of your wife. Thought you'd like a change of bedfellow. +You left your coat and stick about a quarter-mile +down the left bank of the Seine from Neuilly +bridge, so that people would think you dead. You +cut a knife-slit in the ribs of your coat to make a +neater story of it. Then, as I guessed you would, +you went honeymooning with the other woman. +Away to the sunny South. I had you followed.</p> + +<p>"You registered together at the Hotel du Forum +at Arles, taking the names of John Rivière and +Elaine Verney. A man doesn't change his name +unless he's got some shady reason for it. Every +court of law knows that. You dallied for a day or +two at Arles, getting this woman to write a lying +letter to your wife saying that you were down with +fever. We have that letter."</p> + +<p>"We!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>we</i>. We have that letter. I advised your +wife to let me keep it for possible emergencies. I +have it in this office along with the other evidence. +I don't bluff—shall I ring and have my secretary +show it to you?"</p> + +<p>"Get on."</p> + +<p>"Then you moved to Nîmes, staying for shame's +sake at different houses. Hers was the Hotel de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +Provence, and yours was the Villa Clémentine. +You went lovemaking with this woman in the +moonlight, up to a quiet place on the hillside, and +there you nearly got what was coming to you from +a peasant called Crau. Then you had this Verney +woman stay with you in your Villa Clémentine, and +finally you took her off to Wiesbaden."</p> + +<p>Larssen ostentatiously pressed an electric bell.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you chapter and verse," he said.</p> + +<p>Morris Sylvester came in quietly from his room +close by, a slow smile under his heavy dark +moustache, and nodded greeting to Matheson. He +had heard by the telephone device all of his chief's +case against Matheson, and was quite ready to take +up his cue.</p> + +<p>"Sylvester, you recognize this man?" said +Larssen.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He is the Mr John Rivière I shadowed at +Arles and Nîmes."</p> + +<p>Larssen turned to the financier. "Want to +ask him any questions? Ask anything you +like."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Sure?"</p> + +<p>"Quite," answered Matheson. There was nothing +to be gained at this stage by cross-examining the +secretary.</p> + +<p>"That will do, Sylvester."</p> + +<p>The secretary left the room.</p> + +<p>Larssen leant forward across the desk once more +and snarled: "There's the facts of the case as +they'll go before the divorce court."</p> + +<p>"Do you know that Miss Verney is blind?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +There was a hoarseness in Matheson's voice; he +cleared his throat to relieve it.</p> + +<p>"That's no defence in a divorce court."</p> + +<p>"Blind and undergoing an operation this very +morning? Do you know that it's doubtful if she +will ever recover any of her sight?"</p> + +<p>Larssen's mouth tightened a shade more. At +last he found the heel of Achilles. He could get at +Matheson through Elaine. Ruthlessly he answered: +"That's no concern of mine. I'm stating facts to +you. These facts are not all in your wife's possession. +Do you want me to put them there?"</p> + +<p>"Your facts are a chain of lies. There's one +sound link: that I changed my name. The rest +are poisonous lies—provable lies."</p> + +<p>"Whatever they may be, do you want them put +before your wife?" He reached for a swinging +telephone by his desk and called to the house +operator: "Get me P. O. Richmond, 2822. Name, +Mrs Matheson."</p> + +<p>While he was waiting for the connection to be +made, Sylvester entered the room and silently showed +a visiting-card to his chief. It was Olive's card. +Acting on a sudden impulse, she had motored to +the office to see this mysterious John Rivière before +he should evade her. She knew that the interview +was to be at eleven o'clock, and by thus calling in +person, she would make certain of meeting him.</p> + +<p>Larssen said aloud to his secretary: "Show her +up when I ring next."</p> + +<p>Then to Matheson: "There's no need to 'phone. +Your wife is waiting below."</p> + +<p>Sylvester left the room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the shipowner's hand hovered over the button +of the electric bell, waiting for a yes or no from +his antagonist, a great temptation lay before +Matheson.</p> + +<p>The recital of the events of the past three weeks, +as given in the brutal wording of the shipowner, +had torn at his nerves like the pincers of an inquisitor. +He saw now how the world would judge the relations +between Elaine and himself. The change of name, +the meeting at the same hotel at Arles, the second +meeting, the companionship of that fateful week at +Nîmes—the world would put only one interpretation +on it all. Elaine, lying helpless in her close-curtained +room at the nursing home in Wiesbaden, +would be fouled with the imaginings of the prurient. +Not only had he brought blindness to her, but now +he was to bring her to the pillory with the scarlet +letter fixed upon her.</p> + +<p>Yet he could avoid it if he chose. A choice lay +open to him. Larssen would be ready to exchange +silence for silence. If Matheson would stand aside +and let the Hudson Bay scheme go through, no +doubt Larssen would play fair in the matter of +Elaine. That in effect was what he offered as his +hand hovered over the electric bell.</p> + +<p>The shipowner, though an easy smile of triumph +masked his feelings as he lay back in his chair, knew +that he was at the critical point of his career. If +Matheson decided to let Olive be shown in, then +Olive would have in her hands the judgment between +the two men. To be dependent on a woman's +mood, a woman's whim, would be Larssen's position. +It galled him to the quick. The seconds that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +slipped by while Matheson considered were minute-long +to him.</p> + +<p>If only Matheson would weaken and propose +compromise!</p> + +<p>Larssen uttered no word of persuasion one way +or another. He knew that, if his desire could be +attained, it would be attained through silence.</p> + +<p>Presently Matheson stirred in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Ring!" said he firmly.</p> + +<p>The fight had begun again.</p> + +<p>Larssen pressed the bell without a moment's +hesitation. His bluff had to be carried through +with absolute decisiveness. He could not gauge how +far his threat of the divorce court had intimidated +Matheson. Beyond that, he was not at all sure +that Olive would side with him in the matter. +She was unstable, unreliable.</p> + +<p>But on the outside no trace of his doubts appeared. +He was perfectly cool, entirely master of +himself. As he waited for Sylvester to fetch Mrs +Matheson, he took out a pocket-knife and began to +trim his nails lightly.</p> + +<p>Olive's appearance as she entered the throne-room +was greatly changed from that of the evening +before. The transient effect of the drug had worn +off. Her features were now heavy and listless, and +there were dark shadows under the eyes.</p> + +<p>Both men rose to offer a seat.</p> + +<p>"I came along to catch Mr Rivière before he +left you," she explained to Larssen, and turned with +a set smile towards the visitor.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two she stared at Matheson in +amazement. Then:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, it's Clifford! What have you been doing +to yourself? Why have you changed your appearance? +Why are you here? What's the meaning +of all this?"</p> + +<p>"It's a long story," cut in Larssen, and "there +are two versions to it. Which will you hear first, +your husband's or mine?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated to answer, her mind buzzing with +surprise, resentment, and anger. She hated to be +caught at a disadvantage, as in this case. She was +uncertain as to what her attitude ought to be.</p> + +<p>Had Clifford, suspecting her feelings towards +Larssen, returned hurriedly in order to trap her? +What did he know? What did he guess?</p> + +<p>Evidently she ought to be on her guard.</p> + +<p>"Of course I will hear my husband first," she +answered coldly, and Larssen took it as an ill omen. +He offered her a chair again, and seated himself so +as to command them both.</p> + +<p>Matheson, who remained standing, waved his +hand towards the shipowner. "Let him speak +first."</p> + +<p>"I'm not anxious to," countered Larssen. "Fire +away with your own version."</p> + +<p>"I hate all this mystery!" snapped Olive irritably. +"Mr Larssen, you tell me what it all means."</p> + +<p>"Very well. <i>This</i> is Mr John Rivière."</p> + +<p>"Rivière?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's your husband's <i>nom de discrétion</i>."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was Dean."</p> + +<p>"No—Rivière."</p> + +<p>"Why is he back from Canada so soon?"</p> + +<p>"He never went to Canada."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that the letter I received +from Arles was written by Clifford himself?"</p> + +<p>"At his dictation."</p> + +<p>"Who wrote it?"</p> + +<p>Larssen turned to Matheson. "Do you wish me +to explain who wrote it, or will you do it yourself?"</p> + +<p>"It was written at my dictation by a Miss Verney—a +lady whom I met for the first time on my visit +to Arles. Her relation to myself is that of a mere +tourist acquaintanceship."</p> + +<p>"Why were you at Arles? Why was she at +Arles?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Verney is—was—a professional scene-painter. +She was making a brief tour in Provence +to collect material for a Roman drama for which +she was commissioned to design the scenery."</p> + +<p>"How old is she?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—what does it matter?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know."</p> + +<p>"About twenty-five, I should say."</p> + +<p>"And what were you doing at Arles?"</p> + +<p>Matheson found it very difficult to frame his +reasons under this remorseless cross-examination. +He felt as though he were in the witness-box at a +divorce trial, replying to hostile counsel.</p> + +<p>"When I left Paris," he answered, "it was to +take a quiet holiday for a couple of months before +settling down to my new work."</p> + +<p>"What new work?"</p> + +<p>"I'll explain in detail later. Scientific research, +in brief."</p> + +<p>Larssen scraped his chair scornfully. He would +not comment with words at the present juncture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +Matheson was convicting himself out of his own +mouth—the revelation was unfolding excellently.</p> + +<p>"You went to Arles for research?" pursued +Olive.</p> + +<p>"No; for a holiday."</p> + +<p>"A holiday from what—from whom?"</p> + +<p>"From financial matters."</p> + +<p>"Why did you take the name of John Rivière?"</p> + +<p>"Because I intended to take that name permanently."</p> + +<p>Olive was startled. "You meant to leave me!" +she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I meant to disappear and give you your freedom +and the greater part of my property," answered +Matheson steadily.</p> + +<p>"How freedom?"</p> + +<p>"On the night of March 14th, the night I said +good-bye to you at the Gare de Lyon, I made a +sudden decision to take up my brother's work and +live his life. He has been dead a couple of years. +I happened to be attacked by a couple of <i>apaches</i>, +and that gave me the opportunity. I contrived +evidence of a violent death, and then cut loose +entirely from the name of Clifford Matheson. You +would be given leave by the courts to presume +death, on the evidence of my coat and stick left by +the river-bank at Neuilly. You would come into +my money and property, and you would be free to +marry again if you chose."</p> + +<p>Olive had become very thoughtful. Her chin +was buried in her hand. When she spoke again +after a few moments' pause, it was in a strangely +altered tone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why did you come back?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Because Larssen was using my name in a way +I won't countenance. I was forced to return in +order to put a stop to it."</p> + +<p>"Was that the only reason that made you +return?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was it."</p> + +<p>"You came back because Mr Larssen called you +back?"</p> + +<p>"Because I found that he was having me impersonated, +and using my name illicitly."</p> + +<p>Olive turned on the shipowner with a sudden wild +fury, her eyes shooting fire and her lips quivering. +"Why did you have Clifford impersonated?" she +hissed out.</p> + +<p>Larssen was taken aback at this utterly unexpected +onslaught. "That's <i>his</i> version!" he +retorted.</p> + +<p>"My husband says so—that's sufficient for me!"</p> + +<p>"Then I can't argue."</p> + +<p>"Do you deny it?"</p> + +<p>"Emphatically!"</p> + +<p>"You told me Clifford was in Canada, when all +the time you knew he was at Arles. Didn't you tell +me that?"</p> + +<p>"To save his face."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Obviously because I knew he was dallying at +Arles and Nîmes with this Verney woman. You +haven't heard one-tenth of the facts yet. You +haven't heard that he stayed in the same hotel +with her at Arles. Went with her to Nîmes when +the hotel people began to object. At Nîmes, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +decency's sake, they stayed at different houses, but +he had her hanging around his villa. Went lovemaking +with her in the moonlight up to a quiet +place on the hillside. Then, had her live with +him in the Villa Clémentine. Finally, took her +to Wiesbaden. These are all facts for which I +can bring you irrefutable evidence. I had my +secretary shadowing him from the moment he left +Paris."</p> + +<p>Olive turned on her husband with another lightning +change of mood.</p> + +<p>"Is she so very beautiful, this enchantress of +yours?" she queried with the velvety softness of +a cat.</p> + +<p>"She is blind," answered Matheson with a quiver +in his words. "Blinded for life while trying to +warn me of a vitriol attack. Olive, I want you to +listen without interruption while I tell you on my +word of honour what are the facts underneath that +vile story of Larssen's. I want you to believe and +have pity.</p> + +<p>"We had never seen one another before Arles. +There we met as casual tourists. It happened that +I was able to defend her from the assault of a +half-drunken peasant. After that we parted as +the merest acquaintances. By pure chance we met +again at Nîmes. She came to Nîmes to gather +further material for her scene-painting. For scene +purposes she had to make a sketch at night-time, +and I went with her as escort as I would have done +with any other woman. We were followed by the +peasant Crau. He was about to throw vitriol on +me when Miss Verney intervened. She received<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +the acid full in her eyes. She is, I believe, blinded +for life. Even now, as I speak, she lies on the +operating table.... Olive, there has been nothing +between us!"</p> + +<p>His voice rang out in passionate sincerity.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," she replied icily.</p> + +<p>"You <i>must</i> believe it! I give you my word of +honour!"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it! It's against human nature. +You're in love with her—that's plain. You had +opportunity enough. I know sufficient of human +nature to put two and two together. I shall certainly +sue for a divorce!"</p> + +<p>"Against a blind girl?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care a straw whether she's blinded or +not!"</p> + +<p>And then, for the first time in all that long interview, +Matheson blazed into open anger.</p> + +<p>"You know human nature?" he cried. "By +God, you know your own, and you measure every +other woman by yourself! Behind my back you +throw yourself at this damned scoundrel!" He +flung out his hand toward Larssen.</p> + +<p>There was no answering anger in Larssen. He +knew too well the value of keeping cool. He merely +put in a word to egg Matheson on to a further +outburst.</p> + +<p>"That's a chivalrous accusation to make," +said he.</p> + +<p>"It's true as everything else I've said! Last +night, at Thornton Chase, in the drawing-room +before dinner, I saw through, the uncurtained +window...."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<p>Too late he pulled himself up short. The irrevocable +word had been said.</p> + +<p>Olive was now implacable. Her voice was steely +as she answered:</p> + +<p>"I wish to Heaven you were dead!"</p> + +<p>Larssen saw his supreme moment. "Why not?" +he suggested.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Let him disappear. Let him become John +Rivière for good and all."</p> + +<p>"But my divorce?"</p> + +<p>"Give it up—on conditions. You'll have your +freedom just the same."</p> + +<p>"What conditions?"</p> + +<p>"Ask your husband to sign approval of my +Hudson Bay prospectus as it stands."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he approve it?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Matheson. "That's why I +came back."</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with it?"</p> + +<p>"It gives Larssen control. It's greatly unfair to +the public."</p> + +<p>"And just for that you came back? What a +reason!" Scorn lashed from her. "Yes, Mr +Larssen is right! I owe it to my self-respect to +be magnanimous. You can return to your mistress—I'll +forego my divorce. Sign the papers he +wants you to, and you can live out your life +as John Rivière. Your money, of course, comes +to me."</p> + +<p>The shipowner, grimly triumphant, said nothing. +Matheson, in his blaze of anger, had turned Olive +definitely and finally against himself. There was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +no call for Larssen to add to the command of her +words.</p> + +<p>Matheson's anger was spent. A great tiredness +crept over his will. He could fight no more. +Larssen and Olive had beaten him down—beaten +him down through his anxiety to shield Elaine. +Why should he sacrifice her for the sake of an +altruistic ideal? The public he had striven to protect +would not thank him for intervening in their +interests. He would be merely a quixotic fool.</p> + +<p>He felt will-tired, soul-tired, more tired even than +on the night of March 14th. He could fight no +more.</p> + +<p>He sank down into a chair, and presently he said +dully: "Show me the prospectus."</p> + +<p>Larssen unhurriedly produced from a drawer in +his desk a private draft prospectus such as is offered +to the underwriters. On it was a list of names—the +firms to whom it was being shown confidentially +before public issue.</p> + +<p>He reached for the electric bell to summon Sylvester +as a witness to Matheson's signature, but +at that very moment the secretary knocked and +entered quickly with an open cablegram, which he +passed to his chief.</p> + +<p>Larssen's face grew white as he read it, but +he said nothing beyond: "Wait to witness a +signature."</p> + +<p>Matheson took the prospectus and read it through +mechanically. The shipowner, with an appearance +of casualness, turned to a map on the wall behind +him and studied the position of his Atlantic liners +as indicated by the flag-pins.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>Olive remained seated, her eyes fixed remorselessly +on her husband.</p> + +<p>Presently Matheson reached for a pen. "What +do you want on it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Simply 'O.K., Clifford Matheson,'" answered +the shipowner without turning round. "No date."</p> + +<p>Matheson wrote across the printed document the +formal letters "O.K.," and signed below.</p> + +<p>Sylvester witnessed the signature, and passed the +document to his chief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE BOLTED DOOR</span></h2> + + +<p>The moment he had that vital document +safe in his breast-pocket, Lars Larssen was +a changed man. His mask of cool indifference +and his assumption of perfect leisure were +thrown aside. His face was drawn with lines of +anxiety as he snapped a rapid stream of orders at +Sylvester:</p> + +<p>"Send a wireless to the 'Aurelia' to put back +at once to Plymouth. 'Phone Paddington to have +a special ready for me in half-an-hour. 'Phone my +house to pack me a portmanteau and send it to +Paddington by fast car to catch the special. Get +my office car round at once. Tell Bates and Carew +and Grasemann I'd like them to travel with me to +Plymouth to talk business. Let me know when all +that's moving. Hurry!"</p> + +<p>Sylvester sped away to execute his orders.</p> + +<p>Larssen looked up at the portrait of his little +boy, and the cablegram fluttered to the ground.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked Olive.</p> + +<p>"Pneumonia. Dangerously ill."</p> + +<p>"Poor little chap!"</p> + +<p>"My only child!"</p> + +<p>"He'll get over it, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"He's never been strong and hardy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Still, with the best doctors...."</p> + +<p>"If money can pull him through, I'll pour it out +like water. I'm off to the States to look after those +fool doctors. The 'Aurelia' is one of my fastest +boats, and she'll take me across in five days. I'll +give treble pay to every engineer and stoker."</p> + +<p>"How long will you be away?"</p> + +<p>"Can't say exactly."</p> + +<p>"How unfortunate, just at this time!"</p> + +<p>"I can finish off the Hudson Bay deal by wireless. +My ordinary business on this side will run on in the +hands of Bates, Carew, and Grasemann, who form +my executive committee for London."</p> + +<p>They had both ignored Matheson through this +conversation. He was squeezed dry and done with. +Larssen had no further use for him at present, and +Olive had no sympathy to waste on a beaten man.</p> + +<p>He had been sitting brokenly in a chair at the +desk where he had signed away his independence, +gazing into a new-spilt ink-blot on the polished +surface of the desk, seeing visions in its glistening, +blue-black pool.</p> + +<p>But now he pushed back his chair with a rasping +noise and rose decisively to face Larssen.</p> + +<p>"We'll call it a month's truce!" he flung out.</p> + +<p>"What d'you mean?"</p> + +<p>"For a month from now neither you nor I will +move further in the Hudson Bay scheme. For a +month it'll be hung up."</p> + +<p>"Who's to hang it up?"</p> + +<p>"I."</p> + +<p>"But I've got your signed approval in my pocket. +Signed and witnessed!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The issue is not yet underwritten." It was a +sheer guess, but in Larssen's face Matheson could +read that his guess was correct.</p> + +<p>"Well?" snapped Larssen.</p> + +<p>"Either you or I will tell the underwriters that +the scheme goes no further until a month from +date—until May 3rd. Which is it to be—you +or I?"</p> + +<p>Sylvester came in rapidly. "All your orders are +being carried out, and the car's on the way here +from the garage."</p> + +<p>For a few tense moments Larssen hesitated. The +underwriting of the five-million issue was an absolute +essential to a successful flotation, and the negotiations +were not yet completed. If Matheson were to +interfere in them during his absence from London, +big difficulties might develop. Before that cablegram +arrived, the shipowner could have beaten +down any such threat on Matheson's part, but now, +with his little son calling for his presence, with the +special train at Paddington coupling up to speed +him to Plymouth, with the "Aurelia" turning +back, against the protest of its thousand passengers, +to take him on board, the situation was radically +changed.</p> + +<p>Matheson had realised the altered situation, and +putting aside any over-fine scruples, had gripped +advantage from it.</p> + +<p>Larssen's eyes blazed anger at the financier. Then +he held out his hand to Olive.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye!" she answered, taking his hand.</p> + +<p>"You or I?" repeated Matheson.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>The shipowner turned at the door through which +he was hurrying out.</p> + +<p>"I," he conceded.</p> + +<p>"Then sign on it."</p> + +<p>"Don't sign!" cried Olive.</p> + +<p>"He <i>must</i> sign!"</p> + +<p>Larssen rushed back to his desk and scribbled on +a sheet of paper: "Until May 3rd, I fix up nothing +with the underwriters."</p> + +<p>He scrawled his signature under it, and without +further word hurried from the throne-room.</p> + +<p>Matheson and his wife were left alone.</p> + +<p>When Larssen had closed the door behind him, +Olive felt as if a big strong arm of support had +suddenly been taken away from her. Larssen's +mere presence, even if he remained silent, gave her +a fictitious sense of her own power, which now was +crumbling away and leaving her with a feeling of +insecurity and self-distrust.</p> + +<p>Openly it expressed itself in peevish annoyance.</p> + +<p>"Why couldn't you have stayed away altogether?" +she muttered fretfully. "Nobody wanted +you back. Your scruples, indeed! I must say you +have a pretty mixed set of them. If you had had +any consideration for me, you'd have stayed away +altogether, instead of coming back and making +scenes of this kind. I hate scenes! And why did +you force that month's wait at the last moment? +Now things are complicated worse than ever!"</p> + +<p>Matheson waited patiently for his wife to finish +the recital of her complaints. He wondered if it +were possible to appeal once more to her better +feelings. At all events he would make the attempt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +The signature he had forced out of Larssen had +given him back some of his self-respect, and he felt +his brain as it were cleared for action once more.</p> + +<p>When Olive had finished, Matheson asked her +quietly: "Why did you marry me?"</p> + +<p>"Why did you marry <i>me</i>?" she retorted.</p> + +<p>"Because I honestly believed at the time that I +loved you."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you found out afterwards that you'd +made a mistake, and then blamed it on to me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not blaming you—I'm trying to get the +right perspective on to our marriage. I'm wondering +if the woman I loved was yourself, or merely +my idealization of you."</p> + +<p>"I can't help it if I'm not the incarnation of all +the virtues you imagined me to be!" Olive sat +down and played nervously with a penholder, +jabbing meaningless lines and dots on to a loose +sheet of paper.</p> + +<p>"When I married you, I thought you were in +sympathy with me over the big things of life—the +things that matter. But you turned them aside +with a laugh. That put a barrier between us."</p> + +<p>"I never could stand prigs. I thought I was +marrying a man of the world."</p> + +<p>"We seemed to be radically opposed in ideas. +We drifted farther and farther away from one +another. At the end of five years, our marriage +was empty even of tepid affection. If there had +been children, perhaps...."</p> + +<p>"No doubt you'd have wanted to wheel them +out in the perambulator!"</p> + +<p>Matheson let the flippancy pass. He continued<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +steadily: "I felt I could not do my big work under +the constant friction of our married life, and my life +in the financial world. I felt you longed for complete +liberty."</p> + +<p>"I did, and I do so still."</p> + +<p>"So, when opportunity came to me on the night +of March 14th, I made the sudden decision you +know of. I thought I had cut myself loose. If it +had not been for that one unthought-of thread—Larssen's +scheme to use me dead or alive—I should +never have come back.... My sudden decision +was wrong. I realise now that no man can cut +himself utterly loose from the life he has woven for +himself. He is part of the pattern of the great web +of humanity. He is joined to the world around +him by a thousand threads. If he tries to cut loose, +there will always be some one unnoticed thread +linking him to the old life."</p> + +<p>"That sort of thing may be interesting to people +who're interested in it. It merely bores me."</p> + +<p>"Olive, I want to say this: I'm ready to try +once more. I'm ready to take up our married life +as we started it on our wedding day. I'll try to +forget the past and start afresh. I'll make allowances +for you—will <i>you</i> make allowances for me?"</p> + +<p>Olive laughed mirthlessly. "In plain words, +that means you want me to be somebody I've never +pretended to be and never want to be. The idea +is fatuous."</p> + +<p>"Won't you believe me when I say that I'm +genuinely anxious to do the right thing by you, +and clear up the tangle I've made of your life and +mine? I'm sorry for what I said in Larssen's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +presence a little while ago. I was angry and carried +beyond myself."</p> + +<p>"No apology can wipe out that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best to make amends.... You're +not looking at all well. There's a big change in +you. Monte Carlo does you no good—the reverse +in fact. Why not see a doctor and get him to prescribe +you a tonic and a quiet place to build up +your health in? We'll go there together and start +our married life afresh."</p> + +<p>"You've had your say—now let me have mine!" +flung out Olive. "When we married, I was mistaken +too. I thought at the time you were a man who +could do things. I judged on your previous career. +After we were married, I found I was utterly misled. +It isn't in you to climb to the top. You've too many +sides to your nature. First one thing pulls you one +way, and then another thing pulls you another way. +To succeed, a man has to run in blinkers—straight +on without minding the side issues. I imagined you +a hundred per center, and I found you only a ninety +per center. You can't climb to the top—it isn't in +you!"</p> + +<p>"Climb to where?"</p> + +<p>Olive looked around at the vast throne-room of +the shipowner, and her meaning was conveyed in +the glance.</p> + +<p>"Larssen has that final ten per cent.," admitted +Matheson. "But do you know what it means in +plain language?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Utter unscrupulousness. Utter ruthlessness. +Napoleon had that extra ten per cent. Bismarck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +had it. You're right when you say I haven't +it."</p> + +<p>Olive moved irritably in her chair. "Sour +grapes," she commented.</p> + +<p>"Call it that if you wish."</p> + +<p>She dug her pen viciously into the polished +surface of the desk, leaving the holder quivering at +the outrage.</p> + +<p>"Larssen has been merely playing with you," +continued Matheson. "I don't want to blame, but +to warn. I know the man far better than you do. +He thinks you might be useful to him."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do when the month is +up?" she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do?"</p> + +<p>She looked him straight in the eye, her pupils +narrowed with hate. "Go out of my life!"</p> + +<p>"A legal separation?"</p> + +<p>"No use at all. That ties me indefinitely."</p> + +<p>"What then?"</p> + +<p>"One of two things: divorce or disappearance."</p> + +<p>"You mean a framed-up divorce? The usual +arranged affair?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. I mean a divorce with that +Verney woman as co-respondent."</p> + +<p>"I'll not have you insult her by calling her 'that +Verney woman!'"</p> + +<p>"Miss Verney, then.... It's either divorce or +total disappearance."</p> + +<p>"Larssen spoke glibly enough of disappearance, +but the circumstances are very different now from +what they were on the night of March 14th. Then,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +not a soul outside myself knew of my intention. +You'd have claimed leave from the Courts to presume +death, and it would certainly have been +granted you. You would legally have been a widow, +and I—as Clifford Matheson—should legally have +been dead.... But now, both you and Larssen, +and his secretary as well, know that Clifford Matheson +is alive."</p> + +<p>"Does anyone else know?"</p> + +<p>"No one."</p> + +<p>"Larssen will certainly keep the secret. So will +his secretary. So shall I. That's no difficulty."</p> + +<p>"You mean to apply to the courts for a certificate +of my death, knowing that it will be +fraudulent."</p> + +<p>"That, or divorce against you and Miss Verney." +The lines of obstinacy were hard-set around her +mouth.</p> + +<p>"Why are you so bitter against her?"</p> + +<p>Olive remained contemptuously silent. Her +reason, as she saw it, should be obvious enough. +If Clifford was so dense as not to see it, she was +certainly not going to enlighten him.</p> + +<p>Even in face of what had gone before, Matheson +was still hoping to soften his wife towards Elaine. +He tried again. "Her life is ruined. Her work +was her happiness as well as her livelihood. Now, +both are snatched away from her. She is an +orphan; she has no relatives in sympathy with her; +her means are very limited; she has heavy expenses +to face over the operation and the convalescence. +She is under Hegelmann's care at Wiesbaden. This +very morning he is operating on her. I must go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +back to Wiesbaden at once to hear how things are +going."</p> + +<p>"You can wire and find out."</p> + +<p>"I prefer to go personally."</p> + +<p>"Is she so very attractive to you?"</p> + +<p>Matheson, sick at heart, reached for his hat and +stick preparatory to taking his leave.</p> + +<p>A sudden thought struck Olive. "You swear to +me that you've told no one you're Clifford +Matheson?"</p> + +<p>"No one knows beyond yourself, Larssen, and +Sylvester."</p> + +<p>"And you'll tell no one else?"</p> + +<p>"I must reserve that right."</p> + +<p>"It's not in our bargain!" protested Olive. +"You were to disappear completely."</p> + +<p>"It won't affect our bargain," he retorted.</p> + +<p>"That's for me to say."</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows that I've given up to you enough +already!"</p> + +<p>"I ask you to swear to me you'll never tell anyone +else! Not even hint at it!"</p> + +<p>"I can't promise it."</p> + +<p>"That's your last word?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Olive flashed hate at him. Her hands were +quivering when she answered, as though she could +have torn him in pieces.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then! I'll reserve my right of +action too!" Her fingers reached for the electric +bell and pressed it imperatively.</p> + +<p>When Sylvester appeared, she said decisively: +"Have a cab called for Mr Rivière."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly," he answered.</p> + +<p>The financier took up hat and stick, and with a +cold "good-bye" passed out of the open door, +Sylvester following him.</p> + +<p>Presently the secretary returned to confer with +Olive. Larssen had told him to keep in touch with +her.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Clifford Matheson was once more John Rivière. +He picked up his valise at the Avon Hotel and +caught the first boat train for Germany. It took +him to the Continent via Queenboro'—Flushing.</p> + +<p>His thoughts on the railway journey to Queenboro' +were very different to those which had filled +his mind when he sped Calaiswards on his way to +England. Then, he had felt as if he had just plunged +into an ice-cold lake, and emerged tingling in every +limb with the vigour of health renewed. The course +before him had seemed straight; the issue clean-cut.</p> + +<p>Now, he felt as if he had been tripped up and +pushed bodily into a pool of mire.</p> + +<p>Circumstances seemed more tangled than ever. +Finality had not been reached either in regard to +his relations towards his wife, towards Elaine, or +towards Larssen; in regard to the Hudson Bay +scheme, or in his regard to his future freedom for +work on the lines he so earnestly desired. The +whirlpool had sucked him back, and he was once +more battling with swirling waters.</p> + +<p>Out of all the welter of his thoughts one course +became clearer and clearer. He must tell Elaine. +He must put her in possession of the main facts of +the situation which had developed in Larssen's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +office. That he could tell her without violating the +spirit of his bargain with Olive was certain. He +knew he could trust absolutely in Elaine's silence.</p> + +<p>Till then—till he had told her—there was no +definite line of action he could see as the one inevitable +solution.</p> + +<p>If the elements had seemed to bar his passage to +London the day before, to-day they seemed to be +calling welcome to him as train and boat sped him +eastwards. The marshes of the Swale were almost +a joyous emerald green under the sparkle of the sun +in the early afternoon; the estuary of the Thames +was alive with white and brown sail swelling full-bloodedly +to the drive of a care-free, joyful breeze; +torpedo-boats and destroyers sped in and out from +Sheerness with the supple strength of greyhounds +unleashed, tossing the blue waters in curling locks +of foam from their bows; the open sea sparkled +and glinted and danced with the joy of life in its +veins.</p> + +<p>At sundown, the sky behind the foaming wake +of the packet was a blaze of glory. The sinking sun +wove a cloth of gold on the halo of cloud about it, +and circled the horizon with a belt of rose and opal. +Gradually the gold faded into fiery purple, with +arms of unbelievable green stretching out to clasp +the round cup of ocean; the purple died away +reluctantly like the drums of a triumphant march +receding to a distance; night took sea and sky into +her arms, and crooned to them a mother-song of +rest.</p> + +<p>On the railway station at Flushing a telegram was +handed to Rivière—the reply to a telegram of inquiry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +sent by him from London. It was from Elaine +herself:</p> + +<p>"Operation well over. Doctor hopeful. Little +pain. Glad when you are back," it ran, and he had +almost worn through its creases, by reason of folding +and unfolding, before he fell asleep that night in the +train for Wiesbaden.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE CHAMELEON MIND</span></h2> + + +<p>Many men are chameleons. They take +their mental colour from the surroundings +of the moment. They are swayed by +every fresh change of circumstance, influenced by +every strong mind with whom they come in contact. +If such a man goes on from year to year in the +same even groove of work, the chameleon mind +may not be apparent on the surface; but if by any +chance he is suddenly jolted from his accustomed +groove, the mental instability becomes plain to +read.</p> + +<p>Arthur Dean was of this class.</p> + +<p>When a clerk at £2 per week he had looked +forward to promotion to £3 a week as something +dazzling in its opulence, while £4 a week represented +the pot of gold at the foot of the rainbow. +Now a sudden turn of Fortune's wheel had lifted +him to a salary of £6 a week and all expenses paid, +and the work he was required to do for his money +was so trifling in amount as to be almost ludicrous. +He had merely to read over a few letters and +send off a few brief cablegrams saying nothing in +particular.</p> + +<p>As Lars Larssen had tersely phrased it, he was +no longer a "clerk"—he was a "business man."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>And he knew that if he carried out orders faithfully +and intelligently, his future with his employer +was assured. Larssen had a strong reputation for +loyalty to his employees. He exacted much, but +he gave much in return. As his own fortunes +grew, so did those of his right-hand men. If a +man after faithful service was stricken down by +illness, Larssen allowed him a liberal pension.</p> + +<p>That was "business" as the shipowner viewed +it in his broad, far-sighted way. He saw business +not as the mere handling of goods, but as the handling +of <i>men</i>. In the attainment of his ambitions +he was dependent on faithful service from his +employees, and accordingly he made it worth their +while to be faithful. He was liberal to them because +liberality paid him. His position in the world +was somewhat like that of a robber baron in the +Middle Ages, carving out a kingdom with the help +of loyal followers. The people he plundered were +the outsiders, and a certain share of the spoils went +to his men.</p> + +<p>So Dean knew that if he carried out thoroughly +the work entrusted to him, Larssen would stand +by his spoken promise. He resolved to obey +orders as faithfully and as intelligently as he possibly +could. He did not write home what form his new +work was taking. In his letters to Daisy he explained +simply that he was being sent to Canada +on a confidential mission, at a big increase of salary, +and that he was having a regal time of it. At +Quebec and Montreal and Ottawa and Winnipeg +he scoured the shops to find presents which would +carry to her a realisation of his new position.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dean began to feel his importance growing +rapidly as he journeyed across the Atlantic and +around the principal cities of Canada. He thought +he realised the meaning of "business" as it was +viewed by the men up above, the men at the roll-top +desks. He saw now that it was not hard, plugging +work that earned them their big salaries. In a +short fortnight he had begun to look a little contemptuously +on the grinders and plodders. Why +couldn't they realise how little their patient, plodding +service could ever bring them? But some men, +he reflected, were born to be merely clerks all their +days. He was different—out of the common ruck. +He could see largely, like Lars Larssen did. He +was a man of importance.</p> + +<p>Canada pressed a broad thumb on his plastic +mind without his conscious knowledge. Canada +with her young, red-blooded vigour swept into him +like a tidal wave of open sea into a sluggish, marshy +creek. Canada thrust her vastness and her limitless +potentialities at him with a careless hand, as +though to say: "Here's opportunity for the +taking." Canada taught him in ten days what at +home he would never have learnt in a lifetime: +that London is not the British Empire.</p> + +<p>The clerk who lives out his life in the rabbit-warren +of the city of London by day, and in a +cheap, pretentious, red-brick suburb by night, +believes firmly that outside London not much +matters. He lumps together the Canadian, the +South African, the Australian, and the New Zealander +under the slighting category of "colonials." He +imagines them bowing themselves humbly before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +the majesty of the Londoner, taking their cues +from London and reverencing it as the fount of all +wisdom and might and wealth.</p> + +<p>There is no one more "provincial" than the +Cockney born and bred.</p> + +<p>After ten days of Canada, Dean with his chameleon +mind felt himself almost a Canadian. He was +beginning to pity the limitations of the Londoner. +He considered himself raised above that level.</p> + +<p>Winnipeg, the new "wheat pit" of North America, +impressed him most strongly. He could feel the +bursting strength of the young city—a David +amongst cities. He could feel it growing under +his feet to its kingdom of the granary of Britain. +The epic of the wheat pulsed its stately poetry into +him—thrilled him with the majestic chords of its +mighty song.</p> + +<p>He had a half-idea that Lars Larssen's big scheme +was in some way connected with the epic of the +wheat, and it gave him fresh importance to think +that he was serving such a man in so confidential +a position.</p> + +<p>He tried a little gamble in "May wheat" with +a Winnipeg bucket-shop, plunging what was to +him the important sum of twenty dollars. Luck +was with him full-tide. From the moment he +bought, May wheat shot upwards, and in a few +days he had closed the deal with fifty dollars to his +credit.</p> + +<p>That evening he wandered around the city with +money jingling in his trouser-pockets. He bought +himself a good seat at a music-hall, and at the bar +boldly ordered cocktails with weird names of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +which the contents were wonderful mysteries to +him.</p> + +<p>On his way home to his hotel about midnight, a +flaming placard outside a tin-roofed chapel caught +his eye and stopped him for a moment. The +wording was crudely sensational:</p> + +<p class='center'> +THE WICKED FLOURISH!<br /> +BUT FOR HOW LONG?<br /> +A LIFETIME OF EASE FOR AN ETERNITY OF HELL-FIRE!<br /> +DO YOU CHOOSE HELL?<br /> +MAKE YOUR CHOICE TO-NIGHT!<br /> +</p> + +<p>The meeting inside the chapel was in full swing. +A roar of voices raised in a marching hymn swept +out to the deserted street. Dean's lips curved +contemptuously for a moment. Then the whim +came to him to finish his night's amusement by a +sarcastic enjoyment of the revivalist service. He +would go inside and watch other people making +fools of themselves.</p> + +<p>He entered the swinging doors of the chapel into +a room hot with the odour of packed humanity, +and found a place for himself at the rear.</p> + +<p>Presently the hymn ended on a shout of triumph +and a deep, solemn "Amen." There was a shuffling +and scraping of feet as the congregation sat down +and prepared itself to listen to the preacher.</p> + +<p>He was a tall, lean man of fifty-five, with a thin +grey beard and a hawk nose, and eyes that burnt +with the intensity of inner fire. He was the ascetic, +the fanatic, the man with a burning message to +deliver. His eyes sought round his congregation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +before he gave out his text, seeking for the souls +that might be ready for the saving.</p> + +<p>"And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and +was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom; +the rich man also died, and was buried. And in +hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth +Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And +he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on +me and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of +his finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am +tormented in this flame. But Abraham said, Son, +remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy +good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but +now he is comforted, and thou art tormented."</p> + +<p>The preacher read out the words with a slow, +even intensity, making them carry the weight of +the inevitable. He paused for them to sink +in before he began the delivery of his own +message.</p> + +<p>"My friends," he said, "listen to this story from +life. Many years ago there was a young man in +this very city who had a great temptation placed +before him. He was a clerk in an office, as many +of you are. He was ambitious, as many of you +are. He was hoping for riches and power, as many +of you are.</p> + +<p>"One day the devil tempted him. He could +become rich if he chose to sacrifice his conscience. +The devil promised him riches and power and all +that his heart could desire. And he fell.</p> + +<p>"My friends, the devil kept his literal promise. +He always does. When he comes to you in the +watches of the night, and offers you all that you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +desire on earth in return for your soul, you can +know that he will keep his promise.</p> + +<p>"The young man is now rich and famous, and +if I told you his name, you would say that he is a +man to be envied. You see his portraits in the +papers; you hear of his mansions and his motor-cars, +his yachts and his splendid entertainments; +and you would never dream that he is the most +unhappy man in Canada.</p> + +<p>"The devil has given him everything he lusted +for. And yet, not ten days ago, he came to me in +secret and begged for help and counsel. His riches +and power have turned to wormwood in his mouth. +His wife and children hate him. His friends are +only friends because he has money. He is the most +lonely, the most miserable of men."</p> + +<p>The preacher leant forward over the pulpit and +half whispered: "The wicked flourish like the +green bay tree, but who knows what secret canker +eats into their hearts? The devil stands beside +them and whispers mockingly: 'I have given you +everything your heart lusted for; does it taste sweet? +Does it taste sweet?' So much for this world; +and now, my friends, what of the next world?"</p> + +<p>The preacher straightened himself and with +passionate sincerity flung out a torrent of warning +and exhortation to his congregation—a lava-stream +of burning words that bit into their very souls. +Dean, who had come to mock, listened with a +clutch at his heart that made him first shiver and +then turn burning hot and faint. He passed his +handkerchief over his forehead nervously, gripped +at the seat to steady himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>At length he could stand the strain no longer +As he rose and stumbled his way towards the door, +towards the fresh air, the preacher stopped in his +discourse to send an individual message to him.</p> + +<p>"Stay, my friend!" he cried. "To-night is +the hour for you to choose. To-morrow I shall be +gone. To-morrow will be too late. Choose now!"</p> + +<p>But Dean had thrust open the swinging doors and +had disappeared into the night.</p> + +<p>At his hotel the porter handed him a telegram +just arrived. It was from Lars Larssen—an order +to proceed to New York and wait the shipowner's +arrival there. It had been despatched by wireless +from on board the s.s. "Aurelia."</p> + +<p>That scrap of paper came as a bracing tonic to +Arthur Dean. It was an order, and just now he +ached to be ordered. The curt message out-weighed +all the burning words of the preacher. Even +from three thousand miles away Lars Larssen could +grip hold of the mind of the young fellow and +bend it to his purpose.</p> + +<p>The next morning Dean was smiling scornfully at +his weakness of the night before. He paid for a +train ticket for New York via Toronto in a newly +confident frame of mind. He was Larssen's man +again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At the beginning of the journey Dean read papers +and magazines and smoked away the long hours. +Tiring of that eventually, he sauntered to the +observation platform at the rear of the train.</p> + +<p>And there he found the preacher.</p> + +<p>There was an embarrassing silence. The minister<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +knew him at once for the young man who had left +his chapel the night before in the middle of the +discourse. Dean knew that he was recognized, +but did not wish to appear cognizant of it. He +tried to look indifferent, but with poor success.</p> + +<p>The minister broke the silence by offering his +card and saying: "One day you may need my +help. If it please the Lord that I am alive then, +come to me and I will help you."</p> + +<p>Dean took the card and read the name, the Rev. +Enoch Stephen Way, and a Toronto address. He +pocketed the card and murmured a conventional +thanks.</p> + +<p>"You are an Englishman?" said the minister.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Travelling on business?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The answer was curt, and the minister saw that +the young man resented any cross-examination +of his private affairs. He therefore turned the +conversation at once to impersonal matters.</p> + +<p>"How do you like Canada? How does it strike +you?"</p> + +<p>"Fine!" answered Dean, relieved at the turn of +the conversation. "So big."</p> + +<p>"You mean the extent of the country?"</p> + +<p>"It's not that, quite. I mean that people seem +to think in a bigger way. I suppose it comes from +having so much space around one."</p> + +<p>The train was now passing through the endless +miles of forest-land and tangled hills on the route +to Fort William, with scarcely a sign of human +habitation except by the occasional wayside stations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +Now and again the train would thunder over a high +trestle bridge above a leaping torrent-river. Dean +waved his hand vaguely to include the primeval +vastnesses around them.</p> + +<p>"That's right," answered the minister. "There's +no cramping here. Room for everyone. Room +for spiritual growth as well as material growth. I +know the feeling you have. When I was a young +man about your age I came to Canada from the +slums of Liverpool. I had been twice in jail in +Liverpool. It was for theft. In England I should +probably have developed into a chronic thief. +There's little chance for a man who has once been +in prison.... But Canada gave me my chance. +Canada didn't bother about my past. Canada +only wanted to know what I could do in the +future."</p> + +<p>Dean's eyes widened at this frank avowal. He +had never seen or heard of a man—and especially +a man in the ministry—who would openly confess +to a prison-brand upon him.</p> + +<p>"No wonder you like Canada," was his lame +answer.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, my friend, why you left my chapel so +hurriedly last night."</p> + +<p>Dean flushed. "I was feeling a bit faint," he +returned.</p> + +<p>"That's conscience."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. The chapel was very packed +and hot."</p> + +<p>"It was conscience. Why won't you be frank +with me?"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to be frank about."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>The minister looked steadily at him, and Dean +flushed still further and fidgetted uncomfortably.</p> + +<p>"I must be getting back to my carriage," he +murmured.</p> + +<p>"The Lord has brought you to me a second +time. There may never be a third time. The +Lord has——"</p> + +<p>A sudden jerk of the car threw them both off +their feet. They were passing now over a high +trestle bridge above a foaming torrent. There +was a horrible grinding and jarring and crashing. +The tail-car of the train flicked out sideways and +hung half over the river, dragging with it the cars +in front. For an age-long second it seemed as if +the whole train would be precipitated into the +water.</p> + +<p>Then the couplings parted.</p> + +<p>The end car, turning over and over, struck the +river a hundred feet below and impaled itself on a +jagged spur of rock hidden under the swirl of +waters.</p> + +<p>Dean had been battered to insensibility before +the car reached the rocks.</p> + +<p>He awoke to consciousness through the agonized +dream that fiends were staking him down under +water and torturing him by letting the water rise +higher and higher, until finally he would be drowned +by inches.</p> + +<p>He awoke, struggling frantically, to the reality +which had dictated the dream.</p> + +<p>Waters were swirling around him, and his legs +were pinned fast in the wreckage of the car tilted +up on end amongst the sunken rocks. Burning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +pains shot through him. Far up above on the +bridge men were shouting and rushing wildly.</p> + +<p>He screamed out for help. A wave dashed at +him and choked the scream on his lips. He struggled +to free himself from the wreckage that pinned him +fast, and blinding pain drove him to unconsciousness +again.</p> + +<p>As he awoke for the second time, a groan near by +made him twist his head to see who it might come +from. It was the minister, held fast amongst the +splintered wreckage of the car, his face streaming +red from a jagged gash in his grey head.</p> + +<p>"I can't get to you! I'm helpless!" cried Dean.</p> + +<p>The minister answered very simply: "My friend, +see to yourself. The Lord has called me to his side."</p> + +<p>With a sudden jerk the car settled deeper in the +torrent. Only by straining to the uttermost could +Dean keep his mouth to the air above the swirl of +waters.</p> + +<p>"Help!" he screamed to the bridge above. +"I'll be drowned! Help!"</p> + +<p>The minister began to pray aloud: "Lord, Thou +hast been pleased to call me, and I come. Receive +my soul in pity, and forgive me my many sins. +And, oh Lord God, grant that this my young friend +may live to see the light and to worship Thee. Let +this be his hour of repentance. Start him upon a +new path, and keep his feet from straying. In thy +mercy save him that he might live to Thy glory. +Show him what Thou hast shown me, and——"</p> + +<p>The minister's hand dropped suddenly forward, +and the waters closed over him with a snarl.</p> + +<p>From the bridge far above a man was being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +lowered on a rope, like a spider hanging from a +thread.</p> + +<p>Dean watched him with paralyzed tongue. The +strain to keep his head above the waters was racking +him like a torment of the Inquisition. The horror +of the situation grew with every second. Why +did they lower so slowly? Would release ever come +in time to save him?</p> + +<p>His hour of repentance! Yes, the preacher was +right. This was his punishment for the part he +had taken in the fraudulent personation of Clifford +Matheson. It came to Dean like a blinding flash +of light that God was demanding of him whether +he would repent or no—whether he would vow +to run straight for the future.</p> + +<p>The man on the rope was growing larger. His +face held the solemnity of an Eternal Judge. In +his two hands were scrolls marked Riches and +Poverty. He held them out towards Dean, demanding +his instant choice. The young man +begged for a moment to consider. He shut his +eyes against the decision thrust upon him. A +voice thundered in his ears....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">LARSSEN'S MAN ONCE AGAIN</span></h2> + + +<p>Of the eleven passengers in the car that +plunged over the bridge, Arthur Dean +was the only one saved. Nine had been +drowned in the interior of the car when it crashed +amongst the rocks of the torrent. Only Dean and +the minister, standing in the observation platform +at the rear of the car, had had a chance of life, and +the minister had died before help had reached him. +The shock affected Dean more seriously than his +injuries, which were nothing worse than severe +bruises and cuts. He knew that he had had a +miraculous escape, and the horror of the peril wove +in and out of his thoughts as he lay in hospital at +Fort William, haunting dreams and waking thoughts +alike.</p> + +<p>When he left the hospital he was a changed man—white +and gaunt of face, and resolved in purpose +to tell Lars Larssen at once that he would serve +him no longer.</p> + +<p>He made for New York, and went straight to +the shipowner's offices. These were situated at +the very beginning of Broadway, overlooking +Battery Park, on the tip of the tongue of Manhattan +Island. Inside, they were very much on the same +lines of the London offices—in fact, the latter were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +modelled on them. Above the dome of the building +stretched the antennæ of Larssen's wireless.</p> + +<p>To his intense disappointment, Dean was informed +that the chief was away from New York, by the +bedside of his little son at his school in Florida.</p> + +<p>The young fellow had worked himself up to the +point of handing in his resignation; he had fixed +on just what he would say to his employer; and +this check threw him back on his haunches. To +travel down to Florida would cost money, and he +did not feel justified in paying for the journey out +of the expenses allowance given him by Larssen. +To explain by letter was too difficult. After some +thought he decided to take a return ticket by day +coach, and to pay for it out of his own pocket.</p> + +<p>Golden Beach, where the school was situated, +was a fashionable winter resort on the Florida +coast. In one of its several palatial hotels, Larssen +had engaged a suite of rooms and had made himself +a temporary office. Dean carried his modest +portmanteau to the hotel, and waited in the piazza +until Larssen should return from a visit to his boy.</p> + +<p>It was late in the afternoon when the shipowner +came striding along the white, palm-shaded road, +purpose and masterfulness in every movement. +When he caught sight of Dean waiting on the +piazza, he came up with a hand outstretched in +cordial greeting.</p> + +<p>"Well, Dean, how are you feeling now? The +accident must have given you a terrific shake-up."</p> + +<p>"Much better, thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Looks to me you could do with a fortnight's +complete holiday," said Larssen, surveying critically<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +the gaunt white face of the young man. "Say so, +and it's yours."</p> + +<p>Dean stammered some words of thanks. This +cordial greeting threw him into confusion—made +it so much more difficult to say what he had come +to say. For a moment's respite, he asked after +Larssen's little boy.</p> + +<p>"He'll pull round. The crisis is over. His +constitution's weak, but he'll pull round. Money +saved him. On the 'Aurelia' I got hold of all +the facts of the case by wireless, and took a grip +of the situation. I sized up the doctors here as a +couple of well-meaning fools. I wired to Chicago +for a man who's made a speciality of opsonic treatment +for pneumonia. His own invention—something +the other doctors sneer at. I had him packed +from Chicago to Golden Beach by special train, +with full authority to boss the case.... Yes, +it's money that saved my boy. Money, Dean, +holds the power of life and death. Money is the +mightiest thing in this world. I expect you've +come to realise that lately, now you've left off being +a clerk."</p> + +<p>Dean gulped and answered: "That's what I've +come to speak to you about, sir."</p> + +<p>The shipowner shot a swift glance at him. "Come +to my office," he said, and led the way.</p> + +<p>When he had the young fellow seated with the +light full on him, Larssen asked coldly: "What's +your song? Looking for a raise already?"</p> + +<p>"No, it's not that. I don't feel I can carry +out this work."</p> + +<p>"What work?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Your work."</p> + +<p>"Talk it longer."</p> + +<p>"It's like this, sir. When I was in Winnipeg, I +went one night to a music-hall, and on my way +home I went by chance into a chapel meeting."</p> + +<p>"Music-hall or chapel—it's all one to me, so +long as you're not a drinker. You're free to spend +your evenings as you like, provided it doesn't +interfere with your work."</p> + +<p>"There was a preacher there, a Mr Enoch Way, +who impressed me very strongly, sir. So much so +that I had to leave the meeting. When I got +back to my hotel, I found a wire from you telling +me to travel to New York. I caught the morning +train, and on the train I met Mr Way again. We +were on the observation platform together when +the railway-car went over the bridge. He died +not a yard away from me, down in the river! He +was a fine man—a great man! and if I could die +like he died, with a prayer on his lips for someone +who was only a stranger——" Dean choked and +stopped.</p> + +<p>Presently he resumed: "And when I lay in +hospital at Fort William, I thought things over +and over. I began to see clearly that I ought +never to have taken on the work you asked me +to do."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"It's not right, sir! You know what you +asked me to do wasn't right! It's fraud!" The +words came clear and strong now.</p> + +<p>If Larssen had been a man of ordinary passions, +he would have kicked Dean out of the door and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +told him to go to the devil. But the shipowner +had not reached his present power by giving way to +ordinary feelings.</p> + +<p>He answered very quietly: "I should have +liked to meet that Mr Way. He must have been a +man of personality. What did you tell him?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't tell him anything. I think he guessed. +He was that kind of man—he could read right into +you."</p> + +<p>"What did he tell you?"</p> + +<p>"The story of his life. He had been in prison +twice when he was a young man."</p> + +<p>"I mean, what did he tell you to do?"</p> + +<p>"He told me it was my hour for repentance. +That was when we were in the observation platform +together. The next moment we were thrown over +the bridge."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"He died praying God to help me to repent and +live straight!"</p> + +<p>"Repent of what?"</p> + +<p>"Of taking part in a fraud. Of pretending a +dead man was still alive—going to Canada and +sending letters in his name so that his friends would +think he was still alive. I don't know how I could +have brought myself to do such a thing! I was +tempted, I suppose, and I fell. But temptation +is nothing—it's falling to temptation that matters! +That's what he said in his sermon."</p> + +<p>"Anything else to repent of?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing very much, sir. Of course I've not +been all I should have been, but I'd never done +anything radically wrong until then."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<p>The shipowner rose and laid a hand on the young +man's shoulder. "I appreciate your feelings," +he said. "They do you credit, Dean. You're +sound and straight, and that's what I want in my +young men."</p> + +<p>Dean looked up in surprise. "I don't think +you quite understand, sir. I've come here to-day—come +at my own expense—to hand you in my +resignation."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's no need for it. You've been +worrying yourself over a bogey."</p> + +<p>"A bogey!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. There's been no 'fraud' at all. Clifford +Matheson is as alive as you are. He knows perfectly +well that you've been in Canada for +him."</p> + +<p>"But the overcoat and stick! They were his—I'll +swear to it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they were his right enough. He laid +them by the river-bank at Neuilly himself."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"That's complicated to answer. I don't know +that I ought to tell you without Mr Matheson's +express permission. In fact, I want you to keep +what I've just told you entirely to yourself."</p> + +<p>Dean felt bewildered. There was suspicion in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>Larssen saw the suspicion and continued rapidly. +"You think I'm trying to bluff you? I never +bluff with my staff, whatever I may do outside. +I'll give you proof. Have you got those signatures +of Clifford Matheson's?"</p> + +<p>Dean produced them from his pocket-book.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>The shipowner rapidly unlocked his desk and +drew out a printed document which he placed in +the young man's hands.</p> + +<p>"Now see here. This prospectus was printed +off a week after you left for Canada. You can +know that by the printed date. Now what is the +wording written over it in ink?"</p> + +<p>"'O.K., Clifford Matheson,'" read out Dean.</p> + +<p>"Compare it with your two signatures."</p> + +<p>"It's the same."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. That prospectus was passed by Mr +Matheson some time after you imagined him dead +and buried."</p> + +<p>Dean could answer nothing. The world had +turned upside down for him. Larssen took the +prospectus and the two specimen signatures, and +locked them away in his desk.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he asked smilingly. "Am I the +devil tempting you to run crooked?"</p> + +<p>"I must apologize, sir—apologize sincerely! +I didn't know of all this. I thought——I +thought——"</p> + +<p>"That's all over now. We'll forget it. You've +proved to me you're sound and straight. You've +carried out orders well. Carry out future orders +in the same way, and I'll do everything I've promised +for you. You know that I never break a promise +to my staff?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, sir. That's well known."</p> + +<p>"Well, my next order is this: take a fortnight's +holiday and get strong again.... Do you fish?"</p> + +<p>"I'd like to."</p> + +<p>"I'll put you in the way of some splendid fishing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +Tarpon! After that you'll return to England with +me. Sound good to you?"</p> + +<p>"You're too generous, sir!" answered the young +fellow with deep feeling.</p> + +<p>He was Larssen's man once again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">CONFESSION</span></h2> + + +<p>Rivière was at his glass-topped, bevel-edged +bench in the private biological +laboratory at Wiesbaden, surrounded by +his apparatus of experiment. At the moment he +was looking down with one eye through the high-power +immersion lens of his microscope at two +tiny blobs of life in a drop of water. From day +to day the salinity of the water was being slowly +altered, and this was only one of thousands of +experiments he had planned on the effect of changing +conditions of life on the elemental organisms.</p> + +<p>Every day he was passing in review scores of +slides on which the elemental reaction to abnormal +conditions was unfolding itself for his observation. +Each drop of water was a world where the vital +spark was struggling against the harshness of +nature. Each drop of water embodied a fight of +primitive protoplasm against disease. Each drop +of water was contributing its tiny quota to the new +book of knowledge he hoped one day to give to his +fellow-men.</p> + +<p>Like all trained microscopists, Rivière worked +with both eyes open. The amateur observer has +to screw one eye tight in order to avoid a confusion +of impressions, and quickly tires himself. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +trained man keeps both eyes open, and schools his +brain to concentrate on the one vision and ignore +the other. He sees only the miniature world at +the further end of his complex of lenses.</p> + +<p>But Rivière, self-controlled as he was, could not +keep attention on his experimental slide. The +vision of the miniature world faded out, and through +the other eye came the impression of the outside +of the polished brass tube of the microscope; the +glass slide beyond, lit up by the reflector as though +with a searchlight; and the plate-glass bench +mirroring the cases of specimens and the shelves of +chemical reagents.</p> + +<p>And then the material vision of both eyes faded +away, and he saw only the inner vision of Elaine +lying with bandaged eyes in the darkened room +of the Dr Hegelmann's surgical home. The great +specialist, pulling at his beard with his long, +delicately-chiselled fingers, so out of keeping with +the shapelessness of his bulky, untidy figure, had +taken Rivière aside and had given him orders in +that wonderfully musical voice of his.</p> + +<p>"Fraulein is worrying—that is bad for the +recovery. I will not have her worried. You +must tell her that everything will come right—you +must make her smile again."</p> + +<p>"But I'm only a casual acquaintance. We +met by mere chance a few days before the attack +at Nîmes," Rivière had said.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, you can do much for her. She +will listen to you gladly. You are no longer casual +acquaintances. I am an observer of human nature +as well as a surgeon, and I know that the mind is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +the key to the bodily health. I know that <i>you</i> can +influence her. Talk to her freely—it will not tire +her. That is my order."</p> + +<p>But Rivière had not been able to carry out the +spirit of the old man's shrewd command. When +he was by her bedside, a great constraint had come +upon him. What had been easy to embody in a +letter, was terribly difficult to frame in spoken +speech. Several times he had tried to open the +way to a confession. He knew it must scarify +Elaine, and he shrank from it. But yet it was +plain her mind was not at rest, and that was worse +for her than the knowledge of the truth.</p> + +<p>He, too, must act the surgeon.</p> + +<p>With sudden resolution, Rivière put away his +microscope and placed his experimental slides in +their air-tight incubating chamber. He changed +from his laboratory coat to his outdoor coat, and +made his way rapidly towards the surgical home.</p> + +<p>As he crossed the Wilhelmstrasse—gay with its +alluring shops and its crowd of well-dressed, leisured +saunterers—a man came up with outstretched hand +to Rivière and then hesitated visibly.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, sir, but I thought for the moment +you were a friend of mine, a Mr Clifford Matheson. +I see now that I was mistaken by a very striking +resemblance."</p> + +<p>"My half-brother."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's it!" said the man, visibly relieved. +"Well, remember me to him when you see him. +Warren is my name—Major Warren."</p> + +<p>"I'll certainly do so."</p> + +<p>"Thanks—good afternoon."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was not the first proof Rivière had had of the +safety of his new identity. Though Larssen and +Olive had penetrated the disguise, others who knew +him well, even his own clerks, had been perfectly +satisfied with the explanation of the "half-brother."</p> + +<p>When he was ushered into the darkened room +at the surgical home, Elaine smiled greeting to him, +and the smile stabbed him with self-reproach. He +had come to wound her. There must be no further +delay. He must act the surgeon <i>now</i>.</p> + +<p>Elaine half-sat, half-lay in a <i>chaise longue</i>. His +white lilac and fuchsia—those were her favourite +flowers he had discovered—were on a small table +by her side, scenting the room faintly but definitely. +She had a letter in her hands, which she asked him +to open and read to her.</p> + +<p>"The nurse doesn't read English well," she +explained.</p> + +<p>Rivière looked first at the signature. "It's +from your friend Madge in Paris."</p> + +<p>"Then it will be good reading."</p> + +<p>As he read it out to her, he kept glancing now and +again at her face to note the effect of the words. +The letter was mostly a gay account of the girl's +doings in Paris—the amusements of the past week, +little scraps about mutual friends, theatrical gossip, +and so on. It was meant to cheer, but it did not +cheer. Rivière could see that Elaine was reading +into every sentence the might-have-been of her own +wrecked life. He hurried through it as quickly +as possible, and then they chatted for some time of +impersonal matters.</p> + +<p>His words began to come from him with a curious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +husky abruptness. Elaine felt the tension, and +knew that he had something important to tell her. +She sought to help him to it.</p> + +<p>"Your journey to London," she said. "Did it +effect your purpose? You haven't told me much."</p> + +<p>"I had the hardest fight of my life," he replied, +taking up her opening with relief. This would lead +him to what he had come to tell her.</p> + +<p>"And you won?"</p> + +<p>"I was beaten to my knees."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't sound like you as I knew you at +Arles."</p> + +<p>"The fight's not over yet. I managed to stumble +up again for a final round."</p> + +<p>"May I know what the fight was about?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to know every detail of it," he +answered swiftly. "I want your advice—your +help."</p> + +<p>"My help?" There was a faint flush in her +cheeks below the bandages. "What can <i>I</i> do?"</p> + +<p>He paused a moment before replying, seeking the +right beginning to his story.</p> + +<p>"You remember at Nîmes telling me that your +father had lost the last remnant of his fortune +speculating in one of the Clifford Matheson +companies?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And I was surprised to find how different +you were to my conception of your brother."</p> + +<p>"I am Clifford Matheson."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand!" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"I am Clifford Matheson. I took the name of +John Rivière because ... well, the reason for that +is one part of the story I have to tell you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>The pain, so evident in the drawn lines about her +mouth, made him pause. It was the first stroke +of the scalpel.</p> + +<p>From outside the window came the care-free +chirping of the birds making their Spring nests and +telling the whole world of their happiness.</p> + +<p>Presently she whispered "Go on," as though +she had steeled herself to bear the next stroke of +the knife.</p> + +<p>"My reason was that I wanted to cut myself +loose—completely—from my life in the financial +world and from my married life. A sudden opportunity +came to me two days before I first met you +at Arles. I seized the opportunity and planned +to disappear entirely from my world. I arranged +evidence of a violent death, in the belief that it +would be accepted by my friends and by the Courts. +My wife would be freed; she would come into my +property; and I myself should be free to carry +out in quiet the scientific work I'd planned."</p> + +<p>"Which was <i>the</i> reason?"</p> + +<p>"The last."</p> + +<p>"Your wife, then, is the woman I saw in the +Côte d'Azur Rapide?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Elaine considered this in silence for some +moments. A question framed itself on her lips; +she hesitated; finally it came out:</p> + +<p>"Then you were not happy together?"</p> + +<p>"My marriage was a ghastly mistake. I was +quite unsuited to my wife.... But I made a bigger +mistake when I thought to cut loose from the life +I'd woven for myself. One thread pulled me back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +inexorably. I had half committed myself to a deal +involving five millions of the public's money with +Lars Larssen, the shipowner——"</p> + +<p>"Larssen!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"You know him?"</p> + +<p>"No; but he was once pointed out to me at the +Academy, the year the portrait of his little boy was +exhibited there. I could feel at once the tremendous +strength of will behind the man. Something beyond +the human. I was fascinated and repelled +at the one time. So that is the man who——"</p> + +<p>"Who wants to drag you into a divorce court."</p> + +<p>Elaine sat up rigid with shock. "A divorce +court! How—why? What possible——?"</p> + +<p>"Larssen doesn't stick at possibilities."</p> + +<p>"I realise that, but——"</p> + +<p>"I'll not let him drag you into court. Be quite +sure in your mind of that. But listen, Elaine!" +Her name came from him unconsciously. "Listen, +I want you to know every detail. It's your right."</p> + +<p>Elaine flushed. Her voice held a delicate softness +as she answered: "I'll listen without +interruption."</p> + +<p>Then Rivière told her of what had happened +since the crucial night of March 14th, omitting +nothing that she ought to know, sparing nothing +of himself. She listened quietly to his account of +the interview at the Rue Laffitte when he had, as +he thought, made the final settlement with Larssen; +and to the recital of what had occurred from the +moment of his seeing the notice in the <i>Europe +Chronicle</i> of the coming flotation of Hudson Bay +Transport, Ltd.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>He did not tell her of what he had seen through +the lighted window of Thornton Chase, but passed +on to the interview at Larssen's office.</p> + +<p>She shuddered as he spoke of the shipowner's +brutal insinuations, and burst out: "It was +blackmail."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but legalized blackmail."</p> + +<p>"You never gave in to him on that ground?"</p> + +<p>"Listen further."</p> + +<p>Rivière spoke of his wife's unexpected entry +into the office at Leadenhall Street, and the scene +that had followed when Olive and Larssen together +had bent their joint wills to the task of forcing him +to his knees. When he concluded on the signature +wrung out of the shipowner at the last moment, +Elaine cried her relief:</p> + +<p>"Then you're not beaten down! I'm glad—I'm +glad!"</p> + +<p>On his further conversation with Olive, Rivière +touched very briefly, merely indicating the terms +his wife had rigidly demanded.</p> + +<p>"And that's how the matter rests at present," +he ended bitterly. "I've taken away your livelihood; +and dragged your name into this unsavoury +mire; and there's no finality reached.... But +I'll get this tangle straightened out somehow, if I +have to choke Larssen to do it!"</p> + +<p>Rivière had strode over to the window—not to +look out, because the curtains were close-drawn, +but from sheer force of habit. He turned round +sharply as a half-whispered question—an utterly +unexpected question—came from Elaine.</p> + +<p>"Why did you leave me so abruptly at Arles?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rivière's blood leapt hot in his veins and he +answered recklessly: "Because I loved you! +Loved you from the first moment we met! And I +hadn't the right to love you. I wasn't running +away from <i>you</i>—I was running away from <i>myself</i>."</p> + +<p>"Now I see. I thought then.... And when +you offered to devote your life to me? You remember +that, don't you?" She was trembling +as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I meant every word of it!"</p> + +<p>"It was not pity for me? I want the truth—nothing +but the truth! Oh, if I could only see you +now, to know if it were the truth!" Her hands +went up impulsively to the bandages over her +eyes, then dropped helplessly to her side as she +remembered they must on no account be touched.</p> + +<p>"As God hears me, it was not pity but love!" +he answered with passionate sincerity.</p> + +<p>"Then you give me something to live for!"</p> + +<p>Her meaning thundered upon him.</p> + +<p>"You intended to——?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"When my money was exhausted."</p> + +<p>"I never dreamt!"</p> + +<p>"What else was left for me?"</p> + +<p>"Surely you knew that I'd provide for you?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't accept it—then."</p> + +<p>"You'll accept it now?"</p> + +<p>"I must think."</p> + +<p>"I insist! I claim it as my right! You wouldn't +torture me all my life with the thought that I'd +driven you to——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't say it."</p> + +<p>Rivière took her hand and bent to kiss it reverently. +There was silence for many moments—a +silence of deep sympathy. Elaine's flushed cheeks +told Rivière more plainly than words what she was +feeling.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad," she said at length. "So glad +to know."</p> + +<p>"And I'm glad to have told you."</p> + +<p>"I shall get my sight back now. I have something +to live for."</p> + +<p>"Please God, you will."</p> + +<p>"I feel it. I have something to live for.... Dear +John!"</p> + +<p>She sought to take his hand in hers, but he rose +abruptly from beside her couch and strode away.</p> + +<p>"We're forgetting!" he exclaimed bitterly. "I'm +still Clifford Matheson."</p> + +<p>"Not to me."</p> + +<p>"Nothing can alter the fact."</p> + +<p>"Let us live in dreamland awhile," she pleaded +gently.</p> + +<p>"But the awakening must come."</p> + +<p>"We have till May 3rd."</p> + +<p>"Till May 3rd.... And then?"</p> + +<p>"And then you will go back to the fight."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But Larssen won't relent. Nor will my +wife."</p> + +<p>"Something may happen before then."</p> + +<p>"We must make things happen."</p> + +<p>"We?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—you and I."</p> + +<p>There was silence again for some moments. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +came back to her side. She sought for his hand, +and he let her take it in hers.</p> + +<p>Gradually the glow of an idea lit up her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I think I see the way out!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"What's the plan?"</p> + +<p>"Will you trust to me—trust to me implicitly +without asking for reasons?"</p> + +<p>"I'd trust you to the world's end!"</p> + +<p>"Then write to your wife for me."</p> + +<p>"To say——?"</p> + +<p>"To say that I want to meet her."</p> + +<p>"But she'd never come!"</p> + +<p>"I know her better than you do. I saw her in +the train that morning—heard her speak. It told +me a great deal. We women know one another's +springs of actions. If you write the letter I dictate, +she'll come!"</p> + +<p>"If she came, it would only exhaust you and +hinder your recovery. Dr Hegelmann would certainly +not allow it if he knew. He's given me +strict orders to chase away worry from you."</p> + +<p>"It would worry me still more not to write that +letter.... I shall be fighting for you, and that will +help me to get back my sight. Please!"</p> + +<p>"Then I'll fetch pen and paper and write for +you. But we must let a week go by before posting. +Every day will give you new strength."</p> + +<p>"Through your love," she whispered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">WHITE LILAC</span></h2> + + +<p>Happiness is a veil of iridescent gossamer +draped over the ugliness of reality. +Happiness is rooted in illusion—in the +ignoring of harsh fact and jarring circumstance, +and the perception only of what is beautiful and +joyous.</p> + +<p>Happiness is an impressionist painting. One +takes a muddy, sullen river flanked by rotting +wharves and grimy factories and huddled, festering +slums, and under the mantle of evening and the +veil of illusion one creates a "Nocturne in Silver." +The eye of the artist finds equal beauty in the +Thames by sordid Southwark and the Adriatic +lapping Venice in her soft caress. The common +phrase has it as "the seeing eye"—but more justly +it is the ignoring eye. The artist ignores the harsh +and the ugly, and transfers to his canvas only +the harmonious and the poetic. He epitomises +happiness.</p> + +<p>Little children know this truth instinctively. +They find their highest happiness in make-believe. +A child of the slums with a rag-doll and a few beads +and a scrap of faded finery can make for herself a +world of fairyland. She is a princess clothed in +shimmering silk and hung about with pearls and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +diamonds. She is courted by a knight in golden +armour. She is married amidst the acclamations +of a loyal populace. She is the mother of a king-to-be. +She is radiantly happy.</p> + +<p>And in her self-created world of make-believe +she is far wiser than these grown-ups who insist +with obstinate complacency on "seeing things as +they are." They take pride in being disillusioned.</p> + +<p>Not realising that happiness is bowered in +illusion.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Let us live in dreamland awhile," Elaine had +said with the wisdom of a little child.</p> + +<p>It was tacitly agreed to by Rivière. When together, +they combined to ignore the tangle of ugly +circumstance and the harsh struggle to come. For +the time being they were in fancy two lovers with +no barrier between and the world smiling joyously +upon them.</p> + +<p>After a full day's work in his laboratory, he would +come to her side and answer her questions with the +tenderness of a lover.</p> + +<p>"You've brought me white lilac again," she said +one day as he entered. "How did you first guess +that white lilac is my favourite flower?"</p> + +<p>"White lilac is yourself," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Every woman suggests a flower. One sees +many roses—little bud roses, and big, buxom, +full-blown roses, and wild, free-blowing roses. +One sees many white camellias, and heavy-scented +tuberoses, and opulent Parma violets, and gorgeous +tiger-lilies—those have been the women of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +world. One sees many marigolds and cornflowers +and poppies. But I've seen only one white lilac—you. +White lilac is the fresh young Spring. And +yet it is a woman grown. White lilac is sweet and +tender and gracious. White lilac is so faint in +perfume that any other scented flower would +smother it, and yet its fragrance lives in my +memory beyond any other. White lilac is yourself."</p> + +<p>"How many-sided you are! Financier, and +scientist, and now ... and now poet."</p> + +<p>"No—lover."</p> + +<p>"Then love must be living poetry."</p> + +<p>"That many-sidedness is my weakness."</p> + +<p>"I don't want it otherwise."</p> + +<p>"The success race has to be run in blinkers. +One must see only the goal ahead. There must +be no looking to right or left."</p> + +<p>"If success means that, then success is bought +too dearly.... Dear John, I don't want you otherwise +than you are. I love you for your weakness +and not your strength. That's the mother-love +in a woman."</p> + +<p>"I can do so little for you."</p> + +<p>"So little? You've made this sick-room an +enchanted castle for me! I dread the time when +I shall have to leave it. But we won't speak of +that—that's forbidden ground."</p> + +<p>"We'll speak only of the world we've created +for ourselves. It's a whole planet with only you +and I for its sole inhabitants. The planet Earth +is far away in space—just a cold white star amongst +a wilderness of others."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I used to think you cold and bloodless—that +was at Arles and Nîmes."</p> + +<p>"We were far apart then. We were next to one +another in the physical plane, and yet a million +miles away in the plane of reality. Only the +invisible things are the realities of life.... You +were to leave Nîmes the next day, and I never +expected to see you again."</p> + +<p>"You remember the arena at Arles, at sunset, +when you climbed up to stand beside me. Did +you know then that I wanted you to speak to me?</p> + +<p>"Yes, I knew that. But there was the barrier +between us."</p> + +<p>"Were we destined to meet, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Quien sabe?</i>"</p> + +<p>There was a long silence between them—a silence +which held no constraint, a silence that exists +only between those in deep sympathy. Silence +is the test of true friendship.</p> + +<p>"I was so glad to know," she said at length. +"It outweighed everything else."</p> + +<p>There was no need to put her thoughts more +explicitly.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you guess before?" he answered gently.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't be sure, and the doubt tortured me. +I thought it might only be pity. Such a world of +difference!"</p> + +<p>"You're sure now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; your voice has told me more than your +words. Even the notes of the birds soften when +they...." She left the sentence uncompleted.</p> + +<p>"It was Larssen who brought us together," he +meditated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Larssen! He dominates us both. He seems +to hold us in his hands. He's like ... like Fate. +Pitiless, relentless."</p> + +<p>"And, like Fate, to be fought to the end."</p> + +<p>"I love you for your weakness, and yet I love +you as the fighter. How contradictory it sounds!"</p> + +<p>"Such seeming contradiction comes from elision. +One leaves out the train of thought in between. +Between you and me there's no need for the lengthy +explanation. There's scarcely need for words at +all."</p> + +<p>"But yet I love to hear you speak. Your words +heal."</p> + +<p>"Dr Hegelmann is shrewd as well as marvellously +skilful. He said to me to-day: 'I can see you are +obeying orders. Fraülein needs your doctoring as +much as my surgery.'"</p> + +<p>"He's a dear man as well as a great man."</p> + +<p>Rivière burst out impulsively: "But the days +fly by and my Cinderella's midnight rushes nearer!"</p> + +<p>"Not yours alone. Mine too!"</p> + +<p>"And when our fairy garments turn back to +rags?"</p> + +<p>"We'll have had our hour—<i>our hour</i>! No one +can take that away from us. Its memories——"</p> + +<p>"To me it will be the memory of white lilac."</p> + +<p>Elaine felt for the flowers in the tall vase by her +side, and broke off a small spray.</p> + +<p>"Keep this in symbol."</p> + +<p>She kissed it before she gave it into his hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">A CHALLENGE</span></h2> + + +<p>Olive was at her dressing-table at Thornton +Chase, looking searchingly into a mirror.</p> + +<p>That afternoon she had been dragged +unwillingly to the consulting-room of a Cavendish +Square physician by her father, who had insisted +on having "a tonic or something" prescribed for +her. The physician was one of those men who +achieve a fashionable practice by an outrageous +bluntness—a calculatedly outrageous bluntness. +He had found that women like to be bullied by +their doctors.</p> + +<p>"You're drugging yourself to a lunatic asylum," +he had told her after a very brief examination.</p> + +<p>"Drugs? I, doctor?" she had replied with a +little surprised raising of her eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Don't prevaricate! Don't try to deceive <i>me</i>. +You look a perfect wreck. All the signs of +it. Come, which is it—morphia, hashish or +what?"</p> + +<p>"You're mistaken, doctor. I'm run down, that's +all. I want a tonic."</p> + +<p>"And I'm a busy man." He rose brusquely +and strode to the door to open it for her. "I must +wish you good afternoon!"</p> + +<p>Olive caved in. "Well, perhaps now and again,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +when I feel absolutely in need of it, I do take a +little stimulant," she conceded.</p> + +<p>The physician cross-examined her ruthlessly. +Finally he prescribed an absolute cessation of drug-taking, +and gave her a special dietary and mixture +of his own which would help to create a distaste for +the morphia.</p> + +<p>"Remember," he warned her as they parted, +"you're looking an absolute wreck. Everyone can +see it. Three months more of the same pace would +make you a hag."</p> + +<p>Olive was searching her mirror for refutation of +his words, trying to stroke away the flabbiness of +her cheek and chin muscles and the heavy strained +shadows under the eyes. Yes, it was true—the +drug was stamping its mastery on her face, grinning +from behind her eyelids.</p> + +<p>She must fight it down!</p> + +<p>The resolution came hot upon the thought that +Clifford had noticed the change in her. No doubt +he would like her to drug herself to death. That +would suit his plans to perfection. Then he would +be free to marry that Verney woman. She must +fight down her craving for the drug if only to spite +Clifford.</p> + +<p>With a curious vindictive satisfaction, Olive +took out her hypodermic syringe from its secret +place and smashed it to pieces with the bedroom +poker. She gathered up the fragments of glass and +silver and threw them into the fire, heaping coals +over them.</p> + +<p>As she was poking the fire, her maid knocked and +entered with a letter. The postmark was Wiesbaden;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +the handwriting was her husband's. No doubt +a further appeal to her feelings, she reflected contemptuously. +But the letter proved to be from +Elaine—written at the invalid's dictation by Rivière.</p> + +<p>Olive read it with a mixture of indignation and +very lively curiosity. The letter was no appeal +to her feelings—rather, a challenge:—</p> + +<p>"I think we ought to meet," it said. "I have +many things to tell you of which you know nothing +at present—unless you have guessed. They affect +your husband's position very materially. Unfortunately +I am confined to a sick-room, else I +should have come to London before this in order +to call upon you."</p> + +<p>That was all.</p> + +<p>Olive's indignation was based on the obvious +deduction that Rivière had confided completely +in the girl. Her curiosity was roused by the thoughts +of what she could be like to exert such a fascination, +and what she could have to say. Perhaps the +letter was a ruse to see Olive and then make another +appeal for pity. Well, in that case there would be +a very delicious pleasure in giving an absolute +refusal—a pleasure one could taste in anticipation +and linger over in execution. One could play with +the girl a little—pretend to be influenced, hesitate, +ask for time to consider, raise hopes, fan them, and +then administer the <i>coup de grace</i>.</p> + +<p>To see Elaine promised an exciting diversion, +very welcome just now when Olive had to give up +the customary stimulation of the drug.</p> + +<p>These considerations united in deciding her to +travel to Wiesbaden. She would cross to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +Continent alone, her father and her maid being left +at home. Sir Francis knew nothing as yet of +Rivière—for Olive had told him nothing. She +had an unlimited capacity for keeping her own +counsel when it suited her purpose.</p> + +<p>The next day saw her <i>en route</i> for Wiesbaden, +following a letter to that effect to Elaine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">WOMEN'S WEAPONS</span></h2> + + +<p>Olive had a genius for dress. Her gowns +had not only style, which might be due to +the costumier, but also effect, which is +entirely personal. They invariably harmonized +with the occasion, or with the way she sought +to mould the occasion. Sometimes she had +snapped her fingers at fashion, taken matters +with the high hand—and carried the occasion +triumphantly. The illustrated weeklies published +portraits of her when the theatrical market was +dull.</p> + +<p>It was characteristic of Olive that although she +was going to visit a blinded girl with bandaged +eyes, yet when she left the Hotel Quisisana at Wiesbaden +for the surgical home she had dressed studiously +for the occasion. The part to be dressed +was that of "the outraged wife." The gown was +of clinging grey cashmere, cut with simplicity and +dignity, with touches of soft violet to suggest +sensitive inner feelings. The hat was of grey straw +with willowy feathers drooping softly from it. +She wore no jewellery beyond a simple pearl brooch +and her wedding-ring.</p> + +<p>Dressed thus, she felt ready for any cruelty.</p> + +<p>A nurse showed her into the room where Elaine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +lay on her <i>chaise longue</i> with bandages hiding the +upper part of her face.</p> + +<p>"Do you suffer much?" asked Olive softly, +when the nurse had left them alone.</p> + +<p>"Thank you—there is no pain now. Only +waiting for the day of release, when my bandages +are to be removed."</p> + +<p>"It must be terrible to know that one's sight can +never be restored."</p> + +<p>"I don't expect it. But I shall have a fair +measure of sight. Dr. Hegelmann promises it."</p> + +<p>"Still, it's best not to raise one's hopes too high. +Doctors have to be optimistic as part of their trade. +I remember one very sad case where——" Olive +stopped herself abruptly as though her tongue +had run away with her. "Pardon me—I was +forgetting."</p> + +<p>"I know," affirmed Elaine happily.</p> + +<p>"You know what?"</p> + +<p>"That I shall have a fair measure of sight. The +doctor tells me recovery depends largely on the +mental condition. I was worrying myself up till +a few days ago, but now I'm supremely happy. +So I shall recover—I've something to live for, you +see!" Elaine reached for the vase by her side and +raised a spray of white lilac to breathe in its +fragrance.</p> + +<p>The happiness so evident on Elaine's lips stirred +Olive uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Then you've had good news from outside? +I'm very glad to hear it," she said.</p> + +<p>"Good news? Why, yes, thanks to you! I +want first to thank you for your generosity. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +was worrying so until I heard the news from +John."</p> + +<p>"From whom?"</p> + +<p>"Your husband. You see, he will always be +John Rivière to me. That's how I knew him +during these wonderful days at Arles and Nîmes." +Her voice became dreamy with memories. "I met +him first, you know, at the arena at Arles. We sat +for hours in the flooding sunlight reconstructing +our pictures of the past. The stone tiers were +vivid orange in the sunlight and deep purple in +the shadows. A deep, greyish purple. We sat +apart, I longing for him to speak to me and exchange +thoughts. But there was no one to introduce us. +How stupid convention is! At sunset we climbed +up to the topmost tier and stood together as though +on an island tower in the midst of a sea of marshland. +I ached to speak to him, and still we remained +silent and apart. That night came the introduction +I longed for. I was wandering about the +dark, narrow lanes of Arles when a half-drunken +peasant tried to attack me. I cried out for help, +and John came to my defence with his strong arm +and his clenched fist. There was no need for +formal introduction after that. We found we +were staying at the same hotel...."</p> + +<p>Olive made no comment.</p> + +<p>Elaine continued: "Nîmes is fragrant with its +memories for me. The Jardin de la Fontaine, +the Maison Carrée, the Druids' Tower, the dear +Villa Clémentine! There was a little pebbly garden +and a fountain by which we used to sit for lunch—there +were two lazy old goldfish I used to feed with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +crumbs. Darby and Joan!... Those memories +of Nîmes wash away the burn of the vitriol, now +that you've been so kind and generous."</p> + +<p>"I fail to understand," said Olive coldly. The +interview was shaping itself very differently to +what she had expected.</p> + +<p>Elaine turned her bandaged head towards her +in surprise. "But John tells me you've offered +to release him!"</p> + +<p>"Offered to release him! My dear Miss Verney, +Clifford must have been saying pretty things to +soothe you. I'm sorry to pour cold water on your +dreams, but you'll have to learn the truth some +time, and it's kinder to tell you now. Release +him! My husband is not an employee to be handed +over to somebody else at a moment's notice. There +are such things as marriage laws ... and divorce +laws."</p> + +<p>"Aren't we talking at cross-purposes, Mrs +Matheson? I quite understand all that. John +tells me that you have promised to divorce him. +That's very generous of you."</p> + +<p>"You seem to ignore the point that a divorce +suit involves a co-respondent."</p> + +<p>"No; not at all. I wanted to see you in order +to thank you; and then to arrange the details so +that the matter can go through with as little trouble +as possible. Of course, after your kindness, I +shall let the suit go undefended."</p> + +<p>Olive searched the bandaged face of her rival +with merciless scrutiny. But the blinded girl +seemed unconscious of that look of stabbing hatred +and suspicion. She was apparently smiling happily—weaving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> day-dreams. Her hand went out to +the vase of white lilac caressingly.</p> + +<p>For that was the part Elaine had set herself to +play for the sake of the man she loved. He had +been beaten down to his knees by Larssen and +Olive in the shipowner's office because he had had +Elaine to protect. To save her from the mire of +the divorce court he had had to give in and sign +at Larssen's dictation.</p> + +<p>Now she was determined to release him for free +action. Whatever it might cost her in self-respect, +she was going to make Olive believe that a divorce +suit was the one thing she most ardently +desired.</p> + +<p>"I shall let the divorce suit go undefended," +she had said, smiling happily.</p> + +<p>Olive made a decisive effort to regain the whip-hand. +"Divorce by collusion is out of the +question!" she retorted sharply. "The King's +Proctor sees to that. You don't imagine that it's +sufficient merely to say you don't defend the suit? +There must be evidence before the Court."</p> + +<p>Elaine bowed her head.</p> + +<p>"There is evidence," she said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"At Arles, Nîmes, or here?"</p> + +<p>"At Nîmes."</p> + +<p>"Then my husband lied to me! He swore to me +on his word of honour that there was nothing +between you!"</p> + +<p>"John is very chivalrous."</p> + +<p>"You tell me he lied?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know just what he said to you.... And +I want you to realise this: the fault was on my side.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +I loved him. I love him still. I shall love him +always. Always, whatever happens."</p> + +<p>Then she added, because in the playing of her +part she had determined to spare herself no degradation: +"I care nothing for what people say. +They may sneer and point at me, but nothing +shall keep us apart."</p> + +<p>Olive went chalk-white with anger. She had not +travelled the long journey to Wiesbaden to be +fooled in this way. The ground had been cut from +under her feet by Elaine's most unexpected attitude, +and the situation needed some drastic counter-move +on her part.</p> + +<p>"A pretty story!" she retorted. "If you +imagine your childish bluffing would deceive me, +you've a lot to learn yet! Clifford was not lying, +and you are! That's the long and short of +it!"</p> + +<p>"Then call him here and ask him before me!"</p> + +<p>Olive saw her opportunity. She could find out +Rivière's address from Dr. Hegelmann or from one +of the staff of the nursing home, and go to confront +him before Elaine could see and warn him of the +new development. It would be strategic to allay +suspicion of her coming move, however.</p> + +<p>"I want to see nothing more of Clifford," she +replied. "We've agreed to part. He's to go on +with his life as John Rivière. If you like to marry +him as John Rivière, you're quite welcome to do +so as far as I'm concerned."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you want to get permission +from the Courts to presume death, and then take +possession of his property?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Any such arrangement is entirely a private +matter between my husband and myself."</p> + +<p>"I doubt if John would agree to that arrangement +now. He would make you a suitable allowance, +of course."</p> + +<p>Olive could have choked this girl lying helpless +in her chair, and yet holding the whip-hand in +their triangle of conflicting interests. She felt as +if she had been tripped and thrown without a word +of warning. To have travelled to Wiesbaden to +play the outraged wife sitting in judgment on the +woman who had sinned, and now——!</p> + +<p>If only Larssen were here to advise her!</p> + +<p>She tried another move, altering her voice to as +much sweetness as she could command under +her white-hot anger.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I appreciate your feelings," she said. +"You want to fight for the man you love. You'd +even blacken your character for his sake. You'd +face the sneers of the world for his sake. I admire +you for it. It brings us nearer together. I admit +that I had misjudged you a little. That was +because I hadn't seen you and spoken to you. +Now I know what a fine character you are, and I +want you not to bring unnecessary suffering on +yourself. I'm older than you, and I've seen very +much more of the world. I know that a good +woman can't live with a married man for long. +The situation becomes intolerable after a time. +One can't ignore the conventions of the world one +lives in."</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to face all that. I've counted the +cost."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But is Clifford ready to? Think of him. Think +of his work. He would not only be ostracised +socially, but also scientifically. His work would +be ignored. You would destroy his life-work. +You would kill his ambition!"</p> + +<p>Olive's thrust went home, though not to the +exact point she aimed at. Elaine remained silent +as the thought raced through her of how Olive, if +she deemed it to her own interests, might kill +Rivière's work.</p> + +<p>"So you see, dear," pursued Olive, "that our +interests are really very much the same. We both +care deeply for Clifford. We both want to help him +in his life-work. We both want to do our best for +him. That means that we must pull together and +not against one another. We must each of us +think matters out coolly and dispassionately. Isn't +that what you think as well as I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," admitted Elaine.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll say good-bye for the present. I +mustn't stay longer or Dr. Hegelmann will call me +over the coals. I have to remember that you're +not altogether strong again yet. So I'll say good-bye +now and call again to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Do you like lilies? I must send you some. +As I passed a florist's in the Wilhelmstrasse I saw +some splendid tiger-lilies. Good-bye, my dear."</p> + +<p>Elaine waited with feverish impatience for three +minutes to elapse, when she judged Olive would +be clear of the house. Then she rang a bell by her +side. She must get a message through to Rivière +to let him know of the new development in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +situation before Olive could reach him with <i>her</i> +story. Rivière knew nothing beforehand of Elaine's +plan of self-accusation; it was vital that he should +know of it now, when it had been carried to so +effective an end.</p> + +<p>The nurse came to answer the call.</p> + +<p>"I want to telephone," said Elaine in her halting +German.</p> + +<p>"But the telephone is downstairs!"</p> + +<p>"You must lead me there, nurse."</p> + +<p>"No; I cannot do that. It is against orders. +The doctor has forbidden you to leave this room, +Fraülein."</p> + +<p>"I must! I tell you I must! It's——It's—oh, +what is the German for 'vital?'"</p> + +<p>The nurse shook her head uncomprehendingly.</p> + +<p>Elaine rose from her couch and stumbled with +outstretched arms against the nurse.</p> + +<p>"Please lead me to the telephone and get me my +number!" she cried in an agony of anxiety.</p> + +<p>"It is against orders. Come, you must lie down +again and keep quiet."</p> + +<p>There was a brisk rap at the door, and Dr. Hegelmann +came in to see how his patient was progressing.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" he exclaimed, seeing Elaine +standing up and the nurse trying to persuade her +to return to her couch.</p> + +<p>"Doctor, please let me telephone!"</p> + +<p>"To whom?"</p> + +<p>"To Mr Rivière. I must speak to him quickly—I +<i>must</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Nurse, do as Fraülein asks," he ordered briefly.</p> + +<p>The nurse made no comment, but led her patient<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +downstairs at once, found the telephone number +of the laboratory at which Rivière had his research-bench, +and called for the connection.</p> + +<p>"What do they say?" asked Elaine after a +torturing wait.</p> + +<p>"They ask me to hold the line."</p> + +<p>Again a very long wait.</p> + +<p>"What do they say?" asked Elaine again.</p> + +<p>"Wait a little.... Yes, I'm here." ... "Mr +Rivière has just left the laboratory."</p> + +<p>"Where has he gone?" prompted Elaine.</p> + +<p>"Where has he gone?" ... "They do not +know."</p> + +<p>"But I <i>must</i> find him!" cried Elaine. "Try +his hotel, please."</p> + +<p>The hotel people knew nothing of Rivière's +whereabouts.</p> + +<p>"Say to them to give him the message to telephone +me the moment he arrives."</p> + +<p>The nurse gave the message and the telephone +number of the home. Suddenly she felt her patient +sway heavily against her. The reaction had set in +from the feverish tension of the last hour—Elaine +had fainted away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE COUNTER-MOVE</span></h2> + + +<p>Olive, as Elaine had guessed, went straight +to Rivière's laboratory to confront him. Not +finding him there, she made her way to his +hotel and again drew blank.</p> + +<p>This left her uncertain as to her next movements. +Should she return to the nursing home, and wait +about in its neighbourhood in the hope of meeting +her husband on his way to see Elaine? That course +seemed undignified. Should she try the laboratory +once more? That seemed a mere waste of precious +time. Should she walk the length of the Wilhelmstrasse +on the chance of crossing him there? That +seemed a very long shot.</p> + +<p>On the whole she judged it advisable to return +to the Hotel Quisisana, and from there to hold +her husband by telephone. Accordingly she said +to the hotel porter at Rivière's hotel:</p> + +<p>"When Mr Rivière comes in, tell him to 'phone +up at once No. 352."</p> + +<p>"Already haf I taken zat message, lady."</p> + +<p>"To 'phone up No. 352?" asked Olive in +surprise.</p> + +<p>The porter referred to a slate by his side.</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, lady, I am wrong. Ze number +gifen me before is 392."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>Olive opened her purse, took out a gold piece, +and passed it into his hand.</p> + +<p>"Alter it to 352," she said.</p> + +<p>The porter hesitated, looked at the 20-mark +piece, looked around the hall to see if anyone were +observing him, and then said in a very low voice: +"Very goot. Vat name shall I say?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs Matheson." She then left for the +Quisisana.</p> + +<p>And that was why Rivière never received Elaine's +message, and why he went first to call on his wife.</p> + +<p>Olive received him in her private sitting-room. +She was horribly uncertain what line of action she +ought to take, now that Elaine had so completely +reversed the situation. Her nerves, weakened by +the almost continuous drugging of the last few +months, were all a-quiver. The threat of the +"suitable allowance" drove her to frenzy. She +wanted somebody to vent her rage upon, and there +was nobody to serve the purpose. For a moment +she regretted she had not brought her maid with +her to Wiesbaden.</p> + +<p>Her attitude must depend on Clifford's attitude. +But, whatever line of action was to be taken, one +point seemed clear. She must be calm with Clifford—forgiving. +She must play for the quixotic side +of his nature. She had better be even cordial.</p> + +<p>Accordingly she gave him a wifely kiss when he +entered.</p> + +<p>Rivière wondered how Elaine could have worked +this miracle for him.</p> + +<p>"You've seen Miss Verney, I suppose?" he +suggested.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; and I must admit I was very pleasantly +surprised. I had formed an altogether wrong +opinion of her."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm glad you met.... You see now that +your suspicions of her were absolutely unfounded."</p> + +<p>Olive knew the sincerity in Rivière's tone. So +it was just as she had guessed—the girl had been +attempting a daring bluff by her self-accusation.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely unfounded," agreed Olive. "That's +why I want to forgive and forget."</p> + +<p>She gave him one of her sweetest smiles.</p> + +<p>Rivière was puzzled. He had an uneasy feeling +that something very vital was being kept from him. +He noticed his wife's hands all a-quiver, and that +fact jarred against the calm of her words.</p> + +<p>He answered: "You've changed your attitude +towards me very quickly. I take it you only +arrived in Wiesbaden to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but it's more than a fortnight since that +scene in Larssen's office. I've had time to reflect +over things. I was too hasty in what I said then. +You must remember that you sprang a surprise on +me when you returned in that secret way, and +naturally I was put out. I always hate to be taken +at a disadvantage, as you ought to know by now.... Clifford, +when <i>will</i> you learn to read women as +well as you read men? If you'd approached me a +little differently; if you hadn't assumed I was +hostile to you; if you'd only taken me a little +more patiently and pressed your point more insistently——" Olive +paused significantly.</p> + +<p>"Which point?"</p> + +<p>"Surely you remember?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There were many points we discussed."</p> + +<p>"<i>The</i> point—when you were generous enough +to offer to start our life afresh."</p> + +<p>Rivière looked keenly at his wife. Her eyes were +downcast, as though it hurt her modesty to have +to make overtures. There was a faint blush on +her cheeks.</p> + +<p>He began to feel he had been a brute.</p> + +<p>She continued: "You ought to have given me +a day to think it over, instead of rushing away as +you did. You ought to have known that a woman's +pride won't let her yield without being pressed +to yield. I wanted you to press me; I wanted to +make a fresh start with you; I wanted to help you +with your big work! Clifford when <i>will</i> you learn +to read a woman?"</p> + +<p>"What's your suggestion now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"My suggestion is your own—to wipe out the +past, and start our married life afresh. A few days +ago I went to see a doctor—a man in Cavendish +Square who has a big reputation for women's +ailments. Father insisted on my going to consult +him, and he was right. I ought to have gone to +him months ago."</p> + +<p>"What did he tell you?"</p> + +<p>"The long and short of it is that I must give up +society engagements and all excitements of that +kind, and lead a very quiet life. I ought to go to +some quiet place away from people, with someone +with me whom I care for and who cares for me. +That was the gist of his prescription. Of course +I have a special dietary and medicine to take, but +that's only incidental!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her voice held a pathetic braveness, and Rivière +was touched by it.</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully sorry," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"It's hard on me, to give up all that."</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>"It's meant a big fight with myself. Look at +me—you can see it in my face. I'm looking a +wreck."</p> + +<p>"The kind of life you've been leading would crack +up any constitution. I'm glad you've taken advice +in time."</p> + +<p>"It was the turning-point for me."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going for your rest-cure?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't that for you to decide, Clifford dear?"</p> + +<p>Rivière roused himself with an effort akin to +that of Ulysses in the house of Circe.</p> + +<p>"I'd better be quite frank with you," he +answered. "I can't live with you again as man +and wife."</p> + +<p>"I realise your feeling so well. I admire you +for it. It brings us nearer together. You feel +yourself under an obligation to Miss Verney because +of her intervention between you and that vitriol-thrower. +You don't know just how you can repay +it. Obviously you can't offer her money. A girl +of her finely-strung feelings couldn't take a pension +from you.... Now I have a suggestion that +clears away the difficulty completely."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Rivière non-committally.</p> + +<p>"Let <i>me</i> make her an allowance. Let the money +pass through my hands to her. It needn't be a +large allowance. I daresay she could live nicely +on three or four pounds a week. If you agree, I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +go and arrange it myself, so as not to hurt her +feelings."</p> + +<p>That would be indeed revenge on Elaine! To +buy back Clifford for a paltry four pounds a week—to +have the delicate pleasure of doling out the +money in the role of Lady Bountiful! She had a +mental vision of the sweet little letters she could +write to Elaine when she enclosed the monthly +cheque—letters so sweet that they would sear.</p> + +<p>But Rivière answered abruptly: "What did +Miss Verney say to you to make such a complete +change in your attitude towards her?"</p> + +<p>"We chatted together this afternoon and came +to realise one another's point of view—that was all. +It was perfectly natural. A blind girl ... helpless ... without resources of her own.... Do you think I'm flint?"</p> + +<p>"Then she made some appeal to you?"</p> + +<p>"Clifford, dear, I don't think you and I ought to +discuss what passed between Miss Verney and +myself in the sick-room this afternoon. Some +things are sacred."</p> + +<p>"I must know this: did she suggest the idea of +the allowance or did you?"</p> + +<p>Olive hesitated as to how she should answer that +question. It was very tempting to say that Elaine +had suggested it—but decidedly risky. Rivière +might ask the girl point-blank. It was better to be +prudent in this game of strategy, and accordingly +she replied:</p> + +<p>"I don't think you ought to ask me that question."</p> + +<p>"I must see Miss Verney at once," said Rivière +decisively.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But we must think of her feelings. She's very +sensitive, very highly-strung. Wouldn't it be +kinder to let <i>me</i> arrange it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so."</p> + +<p>"I ask you this for her sake!"</p> + +<p>"Still, I must see her at once."</p> + +<p>"As your wife, I ask you to let me end the matter +once and for all. Clifford dear, I must speak out +frankly, though I hate to have to do it. Listen +to me quietly while I try to put the situation to you +in the proper light.... You're in love with +Miss Verney—I know it. It's hard for you to have +to cut loose—very hard. But for her sake you +<i>must</i> cut loose. <i>Now, at once.</i> Matters can't go on +as they are. I know perfectly well that the relations +between you are absolutely innocent—I haven't +a word to breathe against her character now that +I've seen her and really know her. But things +can't go on as they are. You must put yourself +aside and consider her alone. You must think of +her reputation. People will begin to talk."</p> + +<p>"What people?" asked Rivière uneasily.</p> + +<p>"At the nursing home I can see that they regard +you as lovers. A woman realises a point like that +instinctively. No word was said, but I <i>know</i>.... Things +can't remain stationary in a situation of +that kind. You know it as well as I do. You are +a man of strong passions.... Miss Verney is +highly-strung, very impressionable."</p> + +<p>And then Olive made her one big mistake. She +added: "She confessed to me that—how shall I +put it?—that it would be dangerous for her to see +more of you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Verney told you that?"</p> + +<p>"In effect."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it!"</p> + +<p>"It's as true as I sit here!"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it for a moment!"</p> + +<p>"She said even more than that."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"That she would be ready to live with you, +divorce or no divorce. Don't you see the danger +now? Clifford, I appeal to your chivalry! For +her sake cut loose now, at once, before it's too late! +Say good-bye to her by letter; leave me to arrange +the allowance——"</p> + +<p>"I tell you I must see her!"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"I <i>must</i>!"</p> + +<p>Olive lost control of herself. "I'm your wife! +I forbid you to!" she ordered sharply.</p> + +<p>Rivière stiffened. "You told me a fortnight ago +you never wanted to see me again."</p> + +<p>"I've changed my mind!"</p> + +<p>"There's a reason for the change."</p> + +<p>"I've told you the reasons!"</p> + +<p>"Not all the reasons."</p> + +<p>"D'you doubt my word?"</p> + +<p>Rivière's business training made him recognize +the true meaning of that phrase. He had heard +it so many times before from men who were planning +some shady trick. He answered decisively: "I've +the right to hear from Miss Verney herself what she +said to you this afternoon, and I'm going to hear it. +That's final!"</p> + +<p>Olive was now chalk-white with rage. Every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +nerve of her body was quivering, but by a supreme +effort she regained control over her words.</p> + +<p>"You're insulting me!" she returned. "You +doubt my word when I tell you that Miss Verney is +ready to become your mistress. Very well, come +with me and I'll repeat it in front of her."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You're afraid of the test!"</p> + +<p>"I'll not discuss such a matter."</p> + +<p>"You're afraid of the test!"</p> + +<p>"I'll not have that insult put upon her."</p> + +<p>"It's true! I'll swear to it on the Bible! If +it's not true, let her deny it before me. There's +the challenge. You owe it to her as well as to me +to accept. At least give her the opportunity of +denying it, if you think you know her. But you +don't know women—you never have, and you never +will. I tell you you're living on a volcano. You've +no right to compromise her as you're doing now. +It's currish! At least I thought you had some +spark of chivalry in you! But you won't make +the test because you know I've spoken truth. +You're afraid. If you want to prove to yourself +she's the angel you think her, then make the test. +Ask her before me in any form of words you like. +Either that or take my word!"</p> + +<p>"I'll not ask her that."</p> + +<p>"Then at least come with me to see her, and +satisfy yourself indirectly that I've spoken the +truth when I tell you you're living on a volcano. +Play the game, Clifford, play the game!"</p> + +<p>Rivière took up his hat and stick.</p> + +<p>"We'll go to see Miss Verney now," he answered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>Husband and wife drove together to the nursing +home to see Elaine. But a nurse informed them +decisively that Fraulein Verney could receive no +visitors; the excitement of the afternoon had been +too much for her slowly returning strength, and +Dr Hegelmann had ordered her absolute quietude. +To-morrow, perhaps, she might be allowed to +receive her friends—or perhaps the day after +to-morrow.</p> + +<p>"I intend to call to-morrow morning," said Olive +to her husband.</p> + +<p>"I too."</p> + +<p>"Shall we say 10.30?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish."</p> + +<p>"Then call for me at the Quisisana at ten +o'clock.... In the meantime, I leave it to your +sense of honour not to communicate with Miss +Verney."</p> + +<p>"Agreed."</p> + +<p>"You needn't trouble to see me to my hotel. +I'll go back in the taxi."</p> + +<p>It was a night of very troubled thought for all +three. To Rivière, with his complex, many-layered +nature, especially so. The one inevitable, clean-cut +solution to all this tangle of circumstance seemed +farther off than ever.</p> + +<p>If Rivière had been a man of Larssen's temperament, +difficulties would have been smoothed away +like hills under the drive of a high-powered car. +Lars Larssen would have said to himself: "Which +woman do I want?" and having settled that +point, would have jammed on the levers and shot +his car straight forward without the slightest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +regard for any other vehicle or pedestrian on his +road. Were any obstacle in his path, so much the +worse for the obstacle.</p> + +<p>If Larssen under similar circumstances had wanted +Elaine he would have taken her then and there +and left Olive to do whatever she pleased. If he +had wanted Olive, he would have thrown Elaine +in the discard without a moment's remorse. Decisions +are easy for such a man as Larssen, because +the burden of scruples has been pitched +aside.</p> + +<p>Rivière, on the other hand, was cursed with +scruples—as Olive had phrased it, "a pretty mixed +set of scruples." He felt he had to do the square +thing by his wife, by Elaine, and by the public +who were being called upon to invest their savings +under the guarantee of his name. He had to +smash the shipowner's scheme, and he had to +get back to his own scientific work in peace and +quietude.</p> + +<p>For Olive, as for Larssen, decisions were far +simpler. Her objective was her own gratification; +the only point in doubt was the most prudent way +to attain it. Her present dominant wish was to +revenge herself on Elaine, and to do that she was +ready to make any sacrifice of other desires. Even +her infatuation for Larssen paled against the white-hot +light of this new passion.</p> + +<p>Elaine, exhausted by the tension of her interview +with Olive, slept that night in a succession of heavy-dreamed +dozes punctuated by violent starts of +waking, like a train creeping into a London terminus +through an irregular detonation of fog-signals. Why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +had Rivière sent no answer to her message? What +had Olive said to him? Had she done the best +possible thing to free Rivière? That was the +never-ceasing anxiety. In her great love for him, +the one thing she most desired was to <i>give</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE PARTING</span></h2> + + +<p>At the breakfast-table the next morning, +Rivière found a letter with an official seal +awaiting him. It was a call to Nîmes to +give evidence in the coming trial of the peasant +Crau. He was asked to be there on a date a few +days later.</p> + +<p>Olive was already waiting for him in the palm-lounge +of the Quisisana when he reached there at +ten-o'clock. She was smilingly gracious—had seemingly +forgiven him his doubting of her word the +evening before. They took a taxi to the nursing +home, and on the way Olive stopped at a florist's to +buy a bunch of tiger-lilies. Her choice of flower +struck Rivière as very characteristic of her own +temperament.</p> + +<p>They received permission to visit the patient, +and were shown to her room by a nurse.</p> + +<p>"I have brought you a few flowers, dear," said Olive.</p> + +<p>Elaine murmured some words of thanks and felt +the flowers to see what they might be. When she +recognized them, they conveyed to her the same +impression as they had done to Rivière. She drew +her vase of white lilac nearer to her, and that trifling +action seemed to Rivière as though she were calling +upon him for protection.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We've come to talk matters over calmly and +dispassionately," said Olive, taking the reins of +conversation into her own hands. "My husband +and myself are both anxious to make some arrangement +which will be for your happiness. Clifford +feels, and I entirely agree with him, that he's under +a distinct obligation to you."</p> + +<p>"There is no obligation," answered Elaine.</p> + +<p>"It's very generous of you to say so, but both +Clifford and I feel it deeply. Your livelihood has +been taken away from you, and it's our bare duty +to make you some form of compensation. The +suggestion of letting it come through me would +be a very suitable way of solving a delicate problem." +She turned to her husband. "Don't you think +so, Clifford?"</p> + +<p>"I want to hear what Miss Verney has to say."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>Elaine paused before she replied, so that her +words might carry a fuller significance. "Mrs +Matheson," she said, "I don't wish to accept anything +from you."</p> + +<p>"That means, I take it, that you are ready to +accept from my husband?"</p> + +<p>"Accept what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, financial assistance."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then what are you going to do when you leave +the home?"</p> + +<p>"I shall return to my relations until I've learnt +a new trade and can manage to support myself."</p> + +<p>"But surely you will let us help you with the +expenses of the first few months?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I prefer not."</p> + +<p>"Clifford, can't you persuade Miss Verney?"</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to persuade her."</p> + +<p>Olive tried a fresh avenue of attack. "Very +well, then, let's leave that point. What I want +to say now is still more delicate. I don't want to +wound your feelings, but now that all three of us +are together the matter ought to be discussed +calmly and dispassionately and settled once and +for all."</p> + +<p>Rivière interrupted. "You promised me that +this matter should not be mentioned."</p> + +<p>"Promised?"</p> + +<p>"In effect."</p> + +<p>"But we <i>must</i> discuss it!"</p> + +<p>Elaine put in a word: "I'd sooner the whole +situation were threshed out now. Please!"</p> + +<p>"As you will," answered Rivière. "But remember +that you're perfectly free to close the +discussion at any moment."</p> + +<p>Olive resumed: "Yesterday, when we had our +chat together, I was forced to draw certain inferences. +And I had to tell Clifford that it would +be only right for him to avoid compromising you +further."</p> + +<p>"What inferences?"</p> + +<p>"Must I speak more definitely?"</p> + +<p>"I prefer plain speaking."</p> + +<p>"Well, that people would begin to talk malicious +gossip about yourself and my husband."</p> + +<p>Rivière interrupted again. "This discussion is +an insult to Miss Verney."</p> + +<p>But Elaine answered: "I prefer to thresh it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +out.... What people say matters nothing to +me. In any case, nobody knows that Mr Rivière +is your husband."</p> + +<p>"But they will."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you'll tell them?"</p> + +<p>"It must come out."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you want Mr Rivière to return +to you openly as your husband?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you tell me yesterday that you +had cut definitely loose from him? That you +never wanted to see him again? That he was free +to live out his life as John Rivière?"</p> + +<p>"Why did you say that you had lived with +my husband at Nîmes?" retorted Olive sharply. +"That you'd let the divorce suit go undefended?"</p> + +<p>It thundered upon Rivière what Elaine had +done for him—how she had wrought her miracle—and +that moment cleared his mind of all doubt and +hesitancy.</p> + +<p>"I've heard sufficient," he cut in.</p> + +<p>"You've not heard all I've got to say!" pursued +Olive vindictively, and a torrent of words poured +out from her: "It was a pretty scheme your Miss +Verney had planned! She was to egg me on to +divorce you, so that she could get a clutch on your +feelings and marry you and your money! Your +money—that puts it in a nutshell! That's the +kind of woman a man like you falls in love with! +A woman who's too shrewd and too cunning to +commit herself. Who provokes and tantalizes and +lures on a man, and then stops him short at the +very last moment. The musical-comedy type. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +'mind the paint' girl. A hundred times worse +than the frankly vicious. A woman who knows +that a week of living with a man would sicken him +of her. Who's shrewd enough to tantalize him +into hand-and-feet marriage. That's your Miss +Verney. You're welcome to her as Miss Verney! +So long as I live, you'll never have her as your +wife! That's my last word—my absolute final +last word!"</p> + +<p>Olive rose from her chair, quivering in every +limb, and swept out of the room.</p> + +<p>Elaine bowed her head in the shame of those +bitter words.</p> + +<p>Rivière came to her side and kissed her hand +reverently.</p> + +<p>"You did this for me. I understand all. Elaine, +dear, I understand it all. There's no need for you +to explain."</p> + +<p>"You don't believe——?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word of it! You're the sweetest, +bravest——" Words failed him, and he could +only take her hand tenderly in his and let his welter +of unspoken thoughts go silently to her.</p> + +<p>"The things she said—you don't believe they're +true?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Don't speak of them.... You've piled up a +debt on me more than I can ever repay. You've +freed my hands to fight down Larssen, but at what +a cost to yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Then it's freed you?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. The divorce was Larssen's trump-card. +You've fought for me far better than I +could ever have fought for myself. To think of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +you lying there helpless, and yet battling for me! +My God, but at what a cost to yourself!"</p> + +<p>"If it's freed you, dear John, nothing else +matters."</p> + +<p>"It has. Now I can smash Larssen's scheme.... But +what of you, what of you?"</p> + +<p>"We must part—now," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Why now?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me to explain."</p> + +<p>Rivière clenched his hand. "Yes, you're right," +he said after a pause. "We must part—for a time."</p> + +<p>"It will be best for both of us. You must go +back to your world."</p> + +<p>"I'm wanted at Nîmes a few days hence, to give +evidence at the trial."</p> + +<p>"Then leave Wiesbaden to-day."</p> + +<p>"Give me till to-morrow near you."</p> + +<p>"No, you must go to-day.... We'll say good-bye +now."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand, but he took her in his +arms and kissed her passionately.</p> + +<p>"No—don't!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me—I'm a brute!"</p> + +<p>"Dear John, go now. Don't stay. Go back +to your world and fight your battle. I shall recover +my sight—I feel that more strongly than ever. +I shall need it if only to read your letters. Go now, +and take with you my wishes for all happiness and +all success in your life-work!"</p> + +<p>Rivière tried to answer, but the words choked +in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Elaine!" was all he could utter.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p><hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That night he took train for Paris, to call on +Barrèze the manager of the Odéon Theatre.</p> + +<p>There he fixed up an arrangement by which +Barrèze would send to Elaine, in the guise of payment +for the uncompleted work she had done for +him, a substantial sum of money. It was a temporary +expedient only, but it would serve Rivière's +purpose.</p> + +<p>Then he proceeded to Nîmes to attend the trial +of the youth Crau.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">HEIR TO A THRONE</span></h2> + + +<p>The liner "Claudia" was ripping her way +eastwards through a calm Atlantic, like +shears through an endless length of blue +muslin.</p> + +<p>An unclouded morning sun beat full upon the +pale cheeks and delicate frame of Larssen's little +twelve-year-old son, alone with his father on their +private promenade deck. The contrast between +the broad frame of the shipowner and the delicate, +nervous, under-sized physique of his boy was +striking in its irony. Here was the strong man +carving out an empire for his descendants, and here +was his only son, the inheritor-to-be. Neither +physically nor mentally could Olaf ever be more +than the palest shadow of his father, and yet Larssen +was the only person who could not see this. He +was trying to train his boy to hold an empire as +though he were born to rule.</p> + +<p>"How clever Mr Dean is!" Olaf was saying.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Look at the set of wheels he's rigged up for me +so as I can sail my boat on deck." He held up a +beautiful model yacht, perfect in line and rig, with +which he was playing. Underneath it was a crudely-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>made +contrivance of wood and wire, with four corks +for wheels—the handiwork of Arthur Dean.</p> + +<p>"Was that your idea?" inquired Larssen.</p> + +<p>"No, Dad.... Now, watch me sail her up to +windward."</p> + +<p>"Wait. You ought to have thought out that +idea for yourself."</p> + +<p>"I haven't any tools on board, Dad."</p> + +<p>"Then go and make friends with the carpenter." +Larssen took up the crude contrivance and looked +it over contemptuously. "I want you to think +out a better device; pitch this overboard; then +find out where Mr Chips lives, make friends with +him, and get him to construct you a proper set of +wheels to your own design."</p> + +<p>The boy looked troubled. "I don't want to +throw it overboard!" he protested. "I want to +sail my boat on deck now."</p> + +<p>"Sonny, there are heaps of things that are good +for you to do which you won't want to do. It's +like being told by the doctor to take medicine. It's +nasty to take, but very good for you.... I want +to see you one day a big strong fellow able to handle +men and things—a great big strong fellow men +will be afraid of. That's to be your ambition. +You've got to learn to handle men and things. +Here's one way to do it."</p> + +<p>"But Mr Dean wouldn't like it if he knew I'd +thrown his wheels overboard."</p> + +<p>"Dean is a servant. He's paid to do things for +you. His feelings don't matter.... But you +needn't tell him you threw his wheels away. Say +they slipped over the side. Now, get a pencil and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +paper, and let me see you work out a better +contrivance."</p> + +<p>Olaf obeyed, though reluctantly, and presently +he was deep amongst the problems of the inventor. +Lars Larssen watched the boy with a tenderness +that few would have given him credit for.</p> + +<p>"I've got it! Look, Dad!" cried the boy +excitedly, and began to explain his idea and his +tangled drawing.</p> + +<p>"Good! That's what I want from you. Now, +don't you feel better at having worked out the +idea all on your own?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dad. I'll go to Mr Chips at once and get +it made. In which part of the ship does he live?"</p> + +<p>"You must find that out yourself."</p> + +<p>"How much shall I offer him?"</p> + +<p>"Don't offer him anything. Make friends with +him, and he'll do it for you for nothing."</p> + +<p>"But I always give people money to do things +for me."</p> + +<p>"That's a bad habit. Drop it. Get things +done for you for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I want you to be a business man +when you grow up, and not merely a spender of +money."</p> + +<p>"What does a business man mean exactly?"</p> + +<p>"A ruler of men."</p> + +<p>The boy looked troubled again. His confusion +of thoughts sorted themselves into his declaration: +"I don't want to be a ruler of men; I want people +to like me."</p> + +<p>"That's a poor ambition."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Mostly anyone wants that. It's a sign of +weakness. Drop it."</p> + +<p>"What ought I to want?"</p> + +<p>"People to fear you."</p> + +<p>"Why should they be afraid of me, Dad?"</p> + +<p>"For one thing, because some day you'll have +all my money and all my power. Just how big that +is you can't realise yet. That's one reason. The +other reason must lie with yourself—you must +make yourself strong and afraid of nothing. How +many fights did you have this term, before you +got ill?"</p> + +<p>"Only one."</p> + +<p>It was clear from the boy's downcast eyes that +he had been beaten in his fight.</p> + +<p>"That's bad. That's disobeying my orders. +Didn't I tell you to fight every boy in the school +until they acknowledged you master?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not strong enough."</p> + +<p>"You must make yourself strong enough. It's +not a question of muscle, but will-power. When +you're properly over this illness, I'll pick you out +a school in England with about thirty or forty +boys of your own age. They're soft, these English +boys, softer than Americans. I want you to lick +your way through them, and then I'll take you +back to the States to polish up on Americans."</p> + +<p>After a pause came this question: "Dad, must +I have all your money when I grow up? Couldn't +some one else have some of it?"</p> + +<p>"Sonny, don't look at it that way. You're +born to an empire; try and make yourself fit for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +it. I'm building it for you. It'll be a glorious +inheritance.... Now throw those wheels overboard, +and run along and find Mr Chips."</p> + +<p>Presently Arthur Dean came to the private deck +to ask if Larssen had any orders for him. He was +acting as interim private secretary.</p> + +<p>The shipowner dictated a few messages to be +sent by wireless, and then remarked:</p> + +<p>"When you're back in London, I suppose you'll +be going to see your young lady as well as your +parents?"</p> + +<p>Dean blushed.</p> + +<p>"Taking her back any presents?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"A ring?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't doubt that'll come in its own +good time."</p> + +<p>"You don't think I ought to——?" began +Dean tentatively.</p> + +<p>"I don't interfere in that. It's your own private +affair and no concern of mine. You can afford to +marry her on your present salary. If she's a girl +likely to make a good wife, I hope you <i>will</i> marry +her. I like my employees to be married. It's +healthy for them and makes them better business +men. Is she an ambitious girl?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know that."</p> + +<p>"Well, my advice to you is this: marry someone +ambitious. You'll need it. You're inclined +to weaken."</p> + +<p>"It's very good of you to take such an interest +in me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I like you. I want to make you one of my +right-hand men eventually. Now I want to say +this in particular: keep business affairs to yourself."</p> + +<p>"I'll certainly do so, sir."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk about them even to your parents, even +to your young lady. I'm paying you a very good +salary for a man of your age, and I expect a closed +mouth about my affairs."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Get the reason for it. This deal I'm engaged +on is a big thing, and there are plenty of City people +in London who'd like to know just what I'm planning, +and just why Matheson and I sent you to Canada. +I want you to keep them guessing until the scheme's +floated. D'you get that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir! You may rely on me not to +say anything about your business affairs to anybody. +I know how things leak around once anybody's +told."</p> + +<p>"That's right! Now send off those wireless +messages, and then go and amuse yourself for the +rest of the morning. Cabin and all quite comfortable?"</p> + +<p>"Quite, thank you, sir," answered Dean, and +went off buoyantly.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon Olaf was sailing his yacht on +deck on the new set of wheels made for him by the +ship's carpenter, while his father sat stretched +in a long deck-chair watching him tenderly and +weaving dreams for his future. The thought +crossed his mind—not for the first time—whether +it wouldn't be advisable to get a stepmother for +the boy. Larssen had a strong intuitive feeling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +that he would not live to old age, and he wanted +to know that the boy would have someone to care +for him and to stand behind him while he was +seating himself firmly on his father's throne.</p> + +<p>Specifically, the shipowner was reviewing Olive +as a possible stepmother. There was no scrap of +passion in his thoughts. He was viewing the +matter as a business proposition, weighing the pros +and cons calmly and cool-bloodedly. Would Olive +be the right stepmother for the boy? She was of +good family, with influential connections. She +made a fine presence as a hostess. Her ambition +was undoubted. Even the trifling point of the +similarity between Olive's name and that of his +boy impressed him, by some curious twist of mind, +as favourable.</p> + +<p>"Dad, look at me!" called out Olaf. "I've +made some buoys, and now I'm going to sail her +round a racing course."</p> + +<p>He had run needles through three corks, and +planted them in the pitch-seams of the deck to +form the three points of a large triangle, in imitation +of the buoys of a yacht-race course.</p> + +<p>"This buoy is Sandy Hook, and this one is the +Fastnet, and that one over there is Gibraltar."</p> + +<p>"Good!" said the shipowner. "I'll time the +race." He took out his watch. "Are you ready?... Go!"</p> + +<p>When the course was completed and the yacht +lay at anchor again at Sandy Hook, Larssen called +his son to the seat at his side.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember much of your mother?" he +asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy's face clouded over. "I don't know. +Sometimes I seem to see her very plainly, and sometimes +again I don't seem to see her at all when I try +to. Was mother very beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"Very beautiful, to me," assented the shipowner.</p> + +<p>"I think I should have loved her very much."</p> + +<p>"How would you like to have a new mother?"</p> + +<p>Olaf thought this over in silence for some time.</p> + +<p>"It depends," he ventured at length.</p> + +<p>"Depends on what?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I must see her. Then I could +tell you."</p> + +<p>"You care for the idea?"</p> + +<p>"I must see her first."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's right. Well, Sonny, as soon as +we're in London I'll take you to see her. But +remember this: don't breathe a word of it to anyone. +Keep a tight mouth. That's what a business +man has always got to learn."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because silence in the right place means big +money."</p> + +<p>Olaf reflected over the new problem for some time.</p> + +<p>"Dad," he said presently, "I'd like her to like +me very much. And I'd like her to be a good +sailor."</p> + +<p>Larssen smiled at the naïve requirement.</p> + +<p>"Is that very important?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You see, I want her to live with us on +a yacht, and some women are so ill whenever they +go on board a boat."</p> + +<p>"Which do you like best: the country, or a big +city, or the sea?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The sea—the sea! I hate a big city. The +crowds of people make me feel...." He groped +about for a word which would express his feeling " ... make +me feel so lonely."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to overcome that. One day your +work will lie in controlling crowds of people."</p> + +<p>"Dad, let me stay on a yacht till I get quite well +again!"</p> + +<p>Larssen considered for a moment. "Well, if it +will help you to get your fighting muscle, I'll arrange +it. There's a small cruising yacht of mine—the +'Starlight'—lying in Southampton Water. I might +have her cruise about the Channel for you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Dad, I'd like that immensely."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll see to that. We must go up to London +for a few days, and meanwhile I'll arrange to have +the 'Starlight' put in order for you."</p> + +<p>"Can I be captain of the yacht?"</p> + +<p>"That's the spirit I want! But you can't be +captain at a jump. You must work your way up. +First you'll have to work for your mate's ticket. +I'll tell the captain to put you through your paces—give +you your trick at the wheel and so on. But +see here, Sonny, it'll be work and not play. You'll +have to obey orders just as if you were a new +apprentice."</p> + +<p>"I love the sea! I'll work right enough."</p> + +<p>Larssen grew grave with memories. "Work? +You'll never know work as I knew it. At fourteen +I was a drudge on a Banks trawler. Kicked and +punched and fed on the leavings of the fo'castle. +Hands skinned raw with hauling on the dredge-ropes——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<p>A deck steward bearing a wireless telegram came +to interrupt them. The message was from Olive, +and it read:</p> + +<p>"Important developments. Come to see me as +soon as you arrive."</p> + +<p>Larssen scribbled an answer and handed it to +the steward for despatch.</p> + +<p>The boy was thinking over the coming cruise +of the "Starlight." Suddenly he exclaimed: "I've +got an idea! Invite her on board my yacht!"</p> + +<p>Larssen smiled. "That's a very practical test +for her!" he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE REINS HAD SLIPPED</span></h2> + + +<p>The Italian garden at Thornton Chase was +perfect in its artificiality. It sloped down +towards Richmond Park in a series of stately +terraces with box-hedge borders trimmed so evenly +that not a twig or leaf offended against the canons +of symmetry. They were groomed like a racehorse. +Centred in a square of barbered lawn was +a fountain where Neptune drove his chariot of +sea-horses. The Apollo Belvedere, the Capitoline +Venus, Minerva, and Flora had their niches against +a greenhouse of which the roof formed the terrace +above—a greenhouse where patrician exotics held +formal court.</p> + +<p>Olive was feeding a calm-eyed Borzoi from the +tea-table when Larssen and his little boy arrived. +The pose was that of a Gainsborough portrait—she +had dressed the part as closely as modern dress +would allow. Sir Francis was leaning back in an +easy-chair with one leg crossed squarely over the +other knee, and in spite of country tweeds and +Homburg hat, he was somehow well within the +picture. But Lars Larssen, with his broad frame +and his masterful step, was markedly out of harmony +with that atmosphere of leisured artificiality.</p> + +<p>A lesser man would have been conscious of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +incongruity—not so with Larssen. He forced his +personality on his environment. He made the +Italian garden seem out of place in his presence. +A sensitive would almost have felt the resentment +of the trimly correct hedges and shrubs and the +classic statues at being thrust out of the picture on +Larssen's arrival.</p> + +<p>For some time the conversation progressed on +very ordinary tea-table lines. Olive made much +of the little boy—petted him, sent in for special +cakes to tempt him with, showered a host of questions +on him about school and games and hobbies. Sir +Francis exchanged views on weather, politics, and +the coming cricket season with his guest. The +latter subject mostly resolved itself into a monologue +on the part of the baronet, since cricket held no +more interest for Larssen than ninepins; but he +listened with polite attention while Sir Francis +expounded the chances of the Australian Team +(he had been to Lord's that morning to watch them +at preliminary practice), and his own pet theory +of how the googly ought to be bowled.</p> + +<p>Then, having offered libation on the altars of +weather, politics, and cricket, the baronet felt himself +at liberty to touch on business matters.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard when Clifford will be back?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Let me see. To-day's the 26th. I expect him +not later than May 3rd. Probably sooner."</p> + +<p>"Everything going smooth?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; fine. I'm glad we delayed the issue until +May. Canada's getting well in the public eye just +now. When the leaves spread out on the park-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>trees, +town-dwellers begin to remember that the +country grows crops. They recollect that there's +40 million acres of cropland in Canada—250 million +bushels of wheat to move. They awake to the +notion that the wheat will need transport to Europe. +Yes, early May is the time for our Hudson Bay +issue—Clifford was right in suggesting the postponement."</p> + +<p>Olive caught the new drift of conversation between +her father and her guest, and turned to cut in.</p> + +<p>"Olaf would like to see the aviary," she said to +her father. "Especially the new owl. It's so +amusing to look at in the daytime. Will you +take him round and show him everything?"</p> + +<p>The boy jumped up gleefully, and Sir Francis +roused himself from his easy-chair to obey his +daughter's order. He had grown accustomed to +obeying—experience had shown him it was more +comfortable in the long run to do as she wished.</p> + +<p>"Bring some cake along, and we'll feed the +birds," he said to the boy, and the two moved off +together to the aviary, which lay sheltered under +the south wall of the house.</p> + +<p>When the two were out of earshot, Larssen turned +smilingly to Olive, and his tone was that of one who +finds himself at home again.</p> + +<p>"It's good to be back," he said.</p> + +<p>Olive did not smile welcome to him, as he expected. +There was an unlooked-for constraint in +her voice as she inquired: "Another cup?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks."</p> + +<p>She took the cup from him.</p> + +<p>"I've missed you," he added.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've had a worrying time," began Olive as +she poured out tea and cream for him.</p> + +<p>"Clifford?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es."</p> + +<p>Larssen read through the slight hesitancy of her +answer. "That means the Verney girl, does +it?"</p> + +<p>"I've seen her."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"At Wiesbaden."</p> + +<p>"What made you travel to there?"</p> + +<p>"She wrote me a letter."</p> + +<p>"Which roused your curiosity."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Did you satisfy yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I satisfied myself that so far there's nothing +to take hold of between her and Clifford."</p> + +<p>"If she managed to give you that impression, she +must be clever as well as attractive."</p> + +<p>"I know I'm right.... Though of course +they're in love with one another. Both admit it."</p> + +<p>Olive was ill at ease—a most unusual frame of +mind for her. Larssen guessed she had some +confession to make, and prepared himself for an +outwardly sympathetic attitude.</p> + +<p>"No doubt she's got the hooks into Clifford +tight enough," he answered. "It'll be merely a +question of time. No cause for you to worry. +Wait quietly. Have them watched."</p> + +<p>"I intend to do nothing of the kind!" said +Olive sharply.</p> + +<p>Larssen at once adjusted himself to her mood. +"Well, that's as you please. The affair is yours<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +and not mine. I don't doubt you have good +reasons."</p> + +<p>Olive played nervously with a spoon. "I've +decided to drop the matter."</p> + +<p>"Which?"</p> + +<p>"Divorce."</p> + +<p>Larssen had the sudden feeling that during his +absence in the States the reins had slipped from +his hands. He would have to play very warily +for their recovery.</p> + +<p>"No doubt you're right," he answered tacitly, +inviting explanation.</p> + +<p>"I want my husband back."</p> + +<p>"Very natural."</p> + +<p>"I want you to get him back for me."</p> + +<p>"That's a large order. I don't know the circumstances +yet."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing much to tell. I saw this Miss +Verney and I saw Clifford, and I've changed my +mind—that's all."</p> + +<p>"What did she say to you."</p> + +<p>"She tried to make me believe that she wanted +a divorce and would let the suit go undefended."</p> + +<p>"Bluff?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You saw through it at once?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then what's made you switch?"</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I change my mind?" countered +Olive coldly.</p> + +<p>Larssen summed her up now with pin-point +accuracy. Jealousy had worked this transformation. +She wanted her husband because the other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +woman wanted him. And he, Larssen, was dependent +on Olive's whims! The flotation of his Hudson +Bay scheme hinging on her momentary fancies!</p> + +<p>The fighting instinct surged up within him. He +could look for no help from Olive—it was to be a +single-handed battle with Clifford Matheson. Well, +he'd give no quarter to anyone—man or woman!</p> + +<p>Aloud he said, with a perfect assumption of +resignation: "What do you wish me to do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I want you to suggest."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Sir Francis knows all about everything?"</p> + +<p>"No; I've told him nothing. He still believes +Clifford went to Canada."</p> + +<p>"That simplifies matters."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"I've got the glimmering of a plan. Let me +work out details before I put it before you for the +O.K.... As I see the problem, it's this. You +want Clifford to cut loose from Miss Verney. You +want him to return to you. You want me to use +that signature to my Hudson Bay prospectus to +induce him to return."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"You're making a mistake."</p> + +<p>"In what?"</p> + +<p>"Never try to force a man's feelings in such a +matter. Get him to persuade himself. Let him +return of his own free will or not at all. Now my +plan, if it works out right, will do that."</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> the plan?"</p> + +<p>"Give me time to get details settled. Is Clifford +in London?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't know where he is."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I could get his address through Miss +Verney?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt."</p> + +<p>"Where is she in Wiesbaden?"</p> + +<p>"With Dr Hegelmann."</p> + +<p>"Just one more question: are you a good sailor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but why? What a curious question!"</p> + +<p>Larssen smiled at her reassuringly. "You'll +have to trust me a little. Naturally I want my +Hudson Bay scheme to go through smoothly, and +if at the same time I can bring husband and wife +together, why, it'll be the best day's work done in +my life! It'll make me feel good all over!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks; that's kind of you!" returned Olive, +thawed by the cordial ring of his words.</p> + +<p>"No need for thanks—wait till I've worked the +<i>deus ex machinâ</i> stunt.... What do you think +of my boy?"</p> + +<p>"A dear little fellow! But he needs care."</p> + +<p>"He looks weak now, but that's the after-effect +of the illness. He'll put on muscle presently. +He'll be a match for any boy of his age in six months' +time."</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"Sure. Let's come and join them at the +aviary."</p> + +<p>They rose and walked to the house, chatting of +impersonal matters, and nothing affecting the +Hudson Bay scheme passed between Larssen and +Olive or Sir Francis until the moment of leaving.</p> + +<p>The baronet was at the door of the motor, seeing +his guests depart, when Larssen said in a low voice:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Important matter to see you about. Could you +come to the office?"</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"To-night?"</p> + +<p>"To-night I'm due at the banquet to the +Australian Team."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you come on afterwards? I shall be +at the office till midnight. It's about the Hudson +Bay deal."</p> + +<p>"Very well—I'll come about eleven."</p> + +<p>"Right! I'll expect you."</p> + +<p>As they drove home in the car, Larssen said to +his boy:</p> + +<p>"Tell me your impressions."</p> + +<p>"I think the garden is fine, and the birds are +bully little fellows."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Matheson—do you like her?"</p> + +<p>"Is she——Is she the lady you meant when +you said on board ship you were going to marry +someone?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know what you think of her."</p> + +<p>A troubled look came into Olaf's sensitive eyes. +"I don't like her very much, Dad."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think she means what she says."</p> + +<p>"You're mistaken. Mrs Matheson has taken a +great liking to you, and I want you to be very nice +to her. You must meet her again and get better +acquainted. Now see here, I'd like you to invite +her on your yacht. That's the big test, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>Olaf's eyes brightened at the mention of the +yacht. "Very well, Dad," he answered. "If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +you want me to, of course, I'll try and be nice to +her."</p> + +<p>"I'll send you down to Southampton Water with +Dean, and from the yacht I want you to write +a letter to Mrs Matheson. I'll give you the gist of +what to say, and you'll put it in your own words."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to marry Mrs Matheson, Dad?"</p> + +<p>"Not if you don't like her after better acquaintance. +I promise you that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">THE NEW SCHEME</span></h2> + + +<p>Larssen had spoken part truth when he +told Olive over the tea-table that he had +the glimmering of a plan in his mind. But +its object was by no means what he had led her to +believe. It was a scheme of an audacity in keeping +with his previous impersonations of the "dead" +Clifford Matheson, and its single objective was the +attainment of his personal ambitions. Even his +own son was to be used to help in the gaining of +that one end.</p> + +<p>The new scheme, in its essential, held the simplicity +of genius. He would, single-handed, float the +Hudson Bay company with Matheson's name at +the head of the prospectus, whether Matheson +assented or not.</p> + +<p>The first move was to evade the spirit of his own +written compact: "Until May 3rd, I fix up nothing +with the underwriters." To get round this obstacle, +he decided on the audacious plan of underwriting +the entire issue <i>himself</i>. That is to say, he would +give an absolute guarantee that if any portion +of the five million pounds were not subscribed for +by the general public, he himself would pay cash +for and take up those shares. It was a huge risk. +In the ordinary course of business no single finance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +house in London, the world's financial centre, +would take on its shoulders the guaranteeing of +a five million pound issue. Lars Larssen proposed +to do it. In order to provide the requisite security, +he would have to mortgage his ships and his private +investments. He would be dicing with nine-tenths +of his entire fortune.</p> + +<p>The second move was to prevent interference, +while the issue was being offered to the public, +from those who knew anything of the inner history +of the flotation—Matheson, Olive, Elaine, and +Dean. Arthur Dean could easily be kept out of +the way. Elaine would no doubt be still confined +to the surgical home at Wiesbaden. Matheson and +his wife were problems of much more difficulty. +In whatever part of Europe Matheson might be, +he would be certain to hear of the flotation. The +point was to delay his knowledge of it for two or +three days. After that, interference on his part +could not undo what had been done. "One cannot +unscramble an egg."</p> + +<p>For the success of the first move, it was essential +to have the willing co-operation of Sir Francis. +Consequently Larssen was particularly cordial and +gracious to him that evening at the Leadenhall +Street offices, passing him compliments about his +business abilities, which found their mark unerringly.</p> + +<p>Presently the shipowner got down to the crux of +the matter, taking out the draft prospectus from +the drawer in his desk and smoothing it out to show +the signature of Clifford Matheson.</p> + +<p>"As you see, I sent it to Clifford to O.K.," he +said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sir Francis looked at the signature through his +pair of business eyeglasses, and nodded an official +confirmation.</p> + +<p>Larssen continued: "There's no alteration +necessary—Clifford passes it as it stands. But +I've thought of one point which I reckon would add +very considerable weight in its appeal to the public."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"The underwriting. There are a few blank lines +here"—he turned over to a page of small type—"where +the details of the underwriting arrangements +were to be filled in. We were negotiating on a 4 per +cent. basis, you remember. On some of it we should +have had to offer an overriding commission of +another 1 per cent. Say 4½ per cent. on the average—that's +£225,000 on the round five million shares. +A big sum for the company to pay out!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see how we can avoid it."</p> + +<p>"We might cut it out altogether and state that +'No part of this issue has been underwritten.' +That sounds like confidence on our part."</p> + +<p>Sir Francis shook his head emphatically. "It +might do in the States, but it won't do over here. +Our public wouldn't like it. It's not the thing."</p> + +<p>Larssen knew this latter was an overwhelming +reason to the baronet's mind.</p> + +<p>"Very well; pass that suggestion," said he. +"Here's a far better one. Suppose we could get +the underwriting done at 3 per cent. straight. That +would save the company £75,000."</p> + +<p>"What house would take it on at that?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> would."</p> + +<p>"<i>You!</i>" exclaimed the amazed Sir Francis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why not?" quietly replied the shipowner.</p> + +<p>"But——!" The baronet paused in perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the particular 'but'?"</p> + +<p>"We—the company—would have to ask you for +the fullest security."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Security up to the whole five million pounds."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"But——But I don't quite see your reason for +the suggestion."</p> + +<p>"My reason is just this," answered Larssen +earnestly. "I want that prospectus to breathe +out confidence in every line and every word. I want +the whole five millions taken up by the public, and +not left partly on the underwriters' shoulders. I +want to do everything I can to make the public +realise that they're being offered the squarest deal +that ever was. What better plan could you have +than getting the vendor—myself—to guarantee the +whole issue at a mere 3 per cent. cover? No financial +house of any standing would look at it for a trifle +of 3 per cent. But I stand in and take the whole +risk—the whole five million risk—and give you +securities on my ships that bears looking into with +a microscope."</p> + +<p>Sir Francis gasped his admiration of the daring +offer.</p> + +<p>"That's pluck!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you say? Are you agreeable, +for one?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly—certainly!"</p> + +<p>"Then will you bring St Aubyn and Carleton-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>Wingate +here, and get their consent? Say to-morrow +morning?"</p> + +<p>"That's very short notice."</p> + +<p>"You can get them on the telephone. If they're +here to-morrow morning and consent—there ought +to be no difficulty about that—you three Directors +can sick the lawyers on to me at once and fix up +the security deeds in a day or so."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have been born an Englishman!" +said the baronet admiringly.</p> + +<p>"One point occurs to me. Let's keep this matter +close until the prospectus is actually launched. I +don't want any Stock Exchange 'wreckers!' +trying to stick a knife into my back. You know +some of their tricks?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly—certainly!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I'd even mention it to your +daughter. Women—even the best of them—can't +help talking."</p> + +<p>"Women are not meant for business," agreed the +baronet sententiously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">LARSSEN'S APPEAL</span></h2> + + +<p>In pursuance of his second move, Larssen had +to see Miss Verney. To write to her would +probably be fruitless waste of time; and it +was emphatically not the kind of interview to +delegate to a subordinate. He had to seek her in +person.</p> + +<p>It was curious to reflect that, in this tangle of +four lives, the balance of power had shifted successively +from one to the other. At first it was +with Matheson. A letter of his had brought the +shipowner hastening to Paris to see him. Later, +it was Larssen who sat still and Matheson who +hurried to find him. Later again, it was Olive +who held decision between the two men. And now +Elaine.</p> + +<p>As soon as he had settled the underwriting affair +with Sir Francis and his two co-Directors, Larssen +went straight to Wiesbaden to the surgical home, +and had his card sent in to Elaine.</p> + +<p>Elaine received him in the garden of the home, +under the soft shade of a spreading linden, where +she had been chatting with another patient. Near +by, a laburnum drooped in shower of gold over a +bush of delicate white guelder-rose as Zeus over +Danæ. Upon the wall of the home wistaria hung<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +her pastel-shaded pendants of flower, like the notes +of some beautiful melody, sweet and sad, along the +giant staves of her stem. A Chopin could have +harmonized the melody, weaving in little trills and +silvery treble notes from the joy-song of the nesting +birds.</p> + +<p>The bandages had been removed from the patient's +eyes, and she wore a pair of wide dark glasses side-curtained +from the light.</p> + +<p>After a few conventional words of greeting and +inquiry, Larssen drew up a chair beside hers. +"You're wondering why I've called on you," he +began. "You're thinking that a stranger—and +a busy man at that—wouldn't have travelled to +Wiesbaden merely to inquire after you. You're +thinking that I want something."</p> + +<p>"What is it you want from me?" asked Elaine +with frank directness.</p> + +<p>"I want your help," returned Larssen with an +assumption of equal frankness.</p> + +<p>"My help! For what?"</p> + +<p>"For Matheson."</p> + +<p>"And what is this help you want from me?"</p> + +<p>"It's simple enough, but first let me spread out +the situation as I see it. If I'm wrong, you'll +correct me.... To begin with, Matheson is a +man of complex character and high ideals. The +latter have been snowed under in his business career. +He's like an Alpine peak. From the distance, it +looks cold and aloof, but underneath there's a carpet +of blue gentian waiting to spring out into blossom +when the sun melts off the snow-layer. I don't +pay idle compliments when I say that I haven't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +far to look for the sun that's melting off the +snow."</p> + +<p>He paused.</p> + +<p>Elaine remained silent, but Larssen's vivid +metaphor went home to her.</p> + +<p>"I used to admire Matheson as a financier," +pursued the shipowner. "Now I respect him as a +man. He's put up the fists to me over what he +believes to be his duty to the British public, and I +like him all the better for it."</p> + +<p>"You threatened Mr Matheson that you would +have me dragged into a divorce court if he didn't +sign agreement to your prospectus."</p> + +<p>It was a definite statement and not a question, +and from it Larssen judged that the financier had +told her everything from start to finish.</p> + +<p>"I did, and there's where my mistake lay. One +mustn't threaten a man of Matheson's calibre. +Please understand this, Miss Verney, all question +of divorce is dead."</p> + +<p>"It would make no difference to me."</p> + +<p>"It was fine of you to say so to Mrs Matheson. +You've pluck."</p> + +<p>"Then you've been talking matters over with +Mrs Matheson?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I want to arrive at a final settlement +for all of us."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"That's where I want your help. First let me +complete my lay-out of the situation.... Matheson +is a man of high ideals. But he tangled up his life +pretty badly on the night of March 14th, when he +tried to cut loose from his old career. It was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +mistake. We've both made mistakes, he and I. +The unfortunate part is that the consequences +don't fall on us. They fall on Mrs Matheson and +yourself. You note that I place Mrs Matheson +before yourself? That's deliberate."</p> + +<p>Again he paused, but Elaine did not make any +comment. She guessed now what Larssen had +come to say to her, and a shiver of fear went through +her. Not fear of Larssen as a man, but as a spokesman +for Fate. In the deliberate unfolding of his +statement, there was the passionless gravity of Fate.</p> + +<p>Guessing her thoughts, Larssen's voice deepened +as he continued: "I definitely place Mrs Matheson +before yourself. She is his wife. He married her +for better or worse. However mistaken he may +have been in his estimate of her, he must keep to +his promise of the altar-side. She is his wife. As +a man of honour, Matheson's first duty is to stand +by his wife. I don't want to wound your feelings, +believe me. But I have to say this: you must +realise Mrs Matheson's point of view."</p> + +<p>"I think I do."</p> + +<p>"Do you realise that she is eating her heart out +in loneliness?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know."</p> + +<p>"I do know. I went to see her a couple of days +ago at Thornton Chase. The change in her these +last few weeks startled me. I deliberately say +this: you have, unknowingly, dealt her a blow +from which she will never recover. She is naturally +far from strong, and though I'm not a doctor, I +venture to make this prophecy: within three years, +Mrs Matheson will be dead."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<p>A low cry of expostulation came from Elaine.</p> + +<p>"It's an ugly, brutal fact," pursued Larssen, +pressing home his advantage to the fullest extent. +Now that he had probed for and reached the +raw nerve of feeling, he intended to keep it tight +gripped in the forceps of his words. "It's brutal, +but it's true. Unwittingly, you have shortened her +life."</p> + +<p>"I've sent Mr Matheson away," faltered Elaine.</p> + +<p>"I guessed that. But will he stay away from +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I doubt it."</p> + +<p>"We've said good-bye!"</p> + +<p>"But he writes to you?"</p> + +<p>There was an answer in her silence.</p> + +<p>"He writes to you. That means a great deal—a +very great deal."</p> + +<p>"What do you want from me?" cried the +tortured girl.</p> + +<p>"Reparation," was the grave answer.</p> + +<p>"To——?"</p> + +<p>"To Mrs Matheson—to his wife."</p> + +<p>"What more can I do than I have done?"</p> + +<p>"Doesn't your heart tell you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm torn with——"</p> + +<p>"With love for him. I know. I know. I'm +asking from you the biggest sacrifice of all—for his +sake and for her sake. While she lives, give her +back what happiness you can," Larssen's voice +had lowered almost to a whisper.</p> + +<p>"What more can I do than I have done?"</p> + +<p>"Much more. Write to Matheson definitely and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +finally. Send him back to his wife. She is to +cruise on board the 'Starlight'—a yacht of mine—with +my little son. Send Matheson to meet +her on the yacht."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"Then they will come together again. I'm +certain of it. I've seen Mrs Matheson and read the +change in her feelings. She'll be a different woman +now.... Can you see to write?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—faintly."</p> + +<p>"Then write to Matheson what your heart will +dictate to you," said Larssen gently.</p> + +<p>Presently he resumed: "Where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"At Nîmes."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes—the trial."</p> + +<p>"It should be finished to-day."</p> + +<p>"Then Matheson will probably be returning to +London to see me. There's no need for him to +hurry back. He could board the 'Starlight' at +Boulogne or any other port he might prefer."</p> + +<p>"Isn't May 3rd the day that ends your agreement?" +asked Elaine.</p> + +<p>"It is; but I'll extend that date." Larssen +took from his pockets a fountain-pen and a scrap +of paper and scribbled a few words on it, signing +his name underneath. "Suppose you enclose this +when you're writing to Matheson? It extends our +agreement until May 20th."</p> + +<p>He passed the paper to her.</p> + +<p>The power of the human word, of the human +voice—how limitless it is! Larssen, master of +word and voice, had Elaine convinced through and +through of his sincerity in the matter of reconciling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +husband and wife. He had appealed with unerring +judgment to her finest feelings, and she read her +own altruism into his words.</p> + +<p>Larssen knew that his point was won, and long +experience had taught him to close an interview +as soon as he had carried conviction.</p> + +<p>"I won't tire you any longer," he said, rising. +"I just want to say this: you're <i>big</i>. You're the +finer woman by far, but she is his wife."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">ON BOARD THE "STARLIGHT"</span></h2> + + +<p>The trial at Nîmes proved a wearisome, +sordid affair, and its result was a foregone +conclusion. If there had been some motive +of romantic jealousy on the part of the youth Crau, +a French jury might have returned a sentimental +verdict of acquittal. As it was, they found him +guilty, and the judge sentenced him to three years +penal servitude.</p> + +<p>Rivière was heartily glad when the trial was over. +It was now the end of April—close to the date of +May 3rd, when the truce between Larssen and +himself would expire. The shipowner would be +back in London, and no doubt would have heard +from Olive something of the changed situation. +Force of circumstance would make him readjust his +attitude, and he would probably be ready to offer +compromise.</p> + +<p>Rivière judged it advisable to return to England, +and there to wait for overtures on the part of Larssen. +He had taken ticket for London, and was preparing +for travel, when two letters reached him, from Olive +and Elaine.</p> + +<p>The latter gave him a keen thrill of pleasure. It +was written by Elaine herself, and this was proof +indeed of the miracle of surgery wrought by Dr<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +Hegelmann. But its contents made him very +thoughtful. She was asking him to go back to his +wife. She was pointing out to him a path of duty +exceedingly hard to tread.</p> + +<p>Olive's letter added further pressure on his +feelings. She was advised to try a sea-voyage for +her health, she told him; Larssen had placed his +yacht at her disposal; she begged her husband to +meet her at Boulogne and once more to give her +a chance to explain. It was an appeal utterly +different to the attitude she had taken at Wiesbaden—there +was now a sincerity in it which Rivière +could not mistake.</p> + +<p>The enclosure in Elaine's letter did not surprise +him. If Larssen of his own accord offered to +extend the truce until May 20th, it must mean +that the shipowner was aware of his shaky position +and ready to suggest compromise.</p> + +<p>The effect of those three communications on +Rivière's mind was what Larssen had so shrewdly +planned. Rivière wired to his wife that he would +meet her at Boulogne Harbour.</p> + +<p>That evening he caught a Paris express with a +through P.L.M. carriage for Boulogne. At the +Gare de Lyon, in the early morning, they shunted +him round the slow and tedious Girdle Railway to +the Gare du Nord, clanked him on the boat train, +and sped him northwards again in a revigorated +burst of railway energy. North of Paris, a P.L.M. +carriage undergoes a marked change of character. +It deferentially subdues its nationality, and takes +on an Anglo-American aspect. Harris-tweeded +young men pitch golf-bags and ice-axes on the rack,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +and smoke bulldog pipes in its corridors with an +air of easy proprietorship. American spinsters, +scouring Europe in couples, order lunch in high-pitched +American without troubling to translate. +The few Frenchmen who find themselves +in the train have almost the apologetic air of +intruders.</p> + +<p>While passing through the corridor of a second-class +carriage, Rivière happened on the tubby +little figure and rosy smiling countenance of Jimmy +Martin the journalist. Martin never forgot a face +or a name—it was part of his profession to make +an unlimited acquaintanceship with everyone who +might possibly "have a story to tell."</p> + +<p>"Hail, sir!" said he cheerily. "You haven't +forgotten the little sermon I had to preach to you +on the infallibility of my owners, the <i>Europe +Chronicle</i>?"</p> + +<p>Rivière shook hands cordially. "I remember +perfectly. You're going home on holiday, I +expect?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going home for good, praise be. I've +sacked my owners. I told them that they were a +set of unmitigated liars, scoundrels and bloodsuckers, +and that I couldn't reconcile it with my conscience +to work for them any longer without a 20 per cent. +increase in pay. They demurred, and I promptly +sacked them—having in my pocket an offer from +a London paper. Thus we combine valour with +prudence—a mixture which is more colloquially +known as 'business.'"</p> + +<p>"What's your new post?"</p> + +<p>"Reporter for the <i>London Daily Truth</i>. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +you've a story to tell at any time, and want a platform +to speak from, 'phone me up."</p> + +<p>"Thanks; I will."</p> + +<p>"I've been turning my think-tank on to the +Hudson Bay Transport flotation. You certainly +had some inside information on that deal. Why +did it shut up with a snap, I ask myself. Who +banged the lid down?"</p> + +<p>Martin's effort to pump information was very +transparent, but his infectious good humour made +it impossible to take offence.</p> + +<p>Rivière was a keen judge of men, and he felt +instinctive confidence in the honesty of the whimsical +little journalist. One could trust this man. There +was nobody within hearing along the corridor of +the railway carriage. Accordingly he answered:</p> + +<p>"If you'll keep the information strictly to yourself +until I want publication, I'll tell you."</p> + +<p>Martin sobered instantly. "Mr Rivière," said +he, "you can trust me absolutely. I play square."</p> + +<p>"So I judge.... You ask me who banged the +lid down. I did."</p> + +<p>"Phew! You must have landed Larssen a hefty +one on the solar plexus."</p> + +<p>"The matter is not finally settled yet. It's just +possible that I might need the platform you offered +me. Then I'll talk further."</p> + +<p>"Exclusive?" asked Martin, with the journalist +part of him on top.</p> + +<p>"I can't promise that. It depends."</p> + +<p>"Well, first call at any rate. We might get out +a special edition in front of the other fellows. We've +started a new evening paper at the <i>Daily Truth</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +office, and I'd like to secure a scoop for one of the +two.... My stars, if I could have seen the scrap +between you and Larssen! There must have been +some juicy copy in that!"</p> + +<p>"No doubt," commented Rivière drily. "Well, +I'll say good-bye now."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, thanks for your promise. I'll look +forward to the next meeting. <i>Au revoir</i>, as they +say in this whisker-ridden country."</p> + +<p>Boulogne harbour was crowded with grimy tramp +steamers, fishing boats, and a rabble of plebeian +harbour craft, but the yacht "Starlight" was not +in view. Rivière inquired at the office of the +harbour-master, and was informed that a telegram +promised the yacht's arrival by nightfall.</p> + +<p>She arrived true to promise, and lay out beyond +the twin piers of the harbour-mouth in the quiet +of sunset of the evening of April 30th—a trim-lined, +quietly capable, three-masted craft. Larssen had +referred to her as a "small cruising yacht," but in +reality the "Starlight" was much more than that +casual description would convey. In addition to +her extensive sailing power, she had a set of marine +oil engines for use in light winds or special emergency, +and her cabins and saloons were roomy and comfortable. +She could carry a party of a dozen passengers +with comfort if there were need, and had four life-boats +as well as a shore dinghy. The kitchen +equipment was admirable. Altogether, a trim, +well-found yacht which might have voyaged round +the world without mishap.</p> + +<p>The dinghy was sent off with the mate and a +couple of seamen, and entered the harbour to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +enquire for Rivière at the harbour-master's office, +according to arrangement.</p> + +<p>"Pleased to meet you, sir," said the mate. +"Mrs Matheson's compliments, and will you come +aboard?"</p> + +<p>"Is Mr Larssen on the yacht?"</p> + +<p>"No. Mrs Matheson, her maid, and Master +Olaf—that's all. We're giving the little chap a +training in seamanship.... Jim, take the +gentleman's luggage."</p> + +<p>They rowed out to the "Starlight," lying trimly +at anchor like a capable, self-possessed hostess +awaiting the arrival of a week-end guest at a country-house. +Olive waved greeting to her husband as +he came near. By her side was Larssen's little son, +holding her hand. He might have almost been +posed there by the shipowner to inspire confidence +in the peaceful intentions of the yachting +cruise.</p> + +<p>Olive thoroughly believed that Larssen's sole +object in placing the yacht at her disposal was to +reconcile husband and wife, and so indirectly to +smooth over the quarrel between himself and +Clifford. She had no suspicion that his real objective +was to get Matheson on the high seas, the only +region where he could not hear of the coming flotation +of the Hudson Bay Transport, Ltd. Larssen +had told her that she was free to order the yacht's +movements as she pleased—he merely suggested +in a perfectly casual way that a cruise to the +Norwegian fjords might prove enjoyable.</p> + +<p>"It was good of you to come!" said Olive as her +husband mounted the gangway to the white-railed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +deck. There was unmistakable sincerity in her +greeting.</p> + +<p>"I'm to be captain of the 'Starlight' as soon +as I get my skipper's ticket," confided the little boy +as he shook hands.</p> + +<p>Matheson had made up his mind to carry out +Elaine's wish. He had come back to his wife; +and he was prepared to fall in with any plan that +she might propose. Accordingly, when she suggested +the alternatives of a cruise down the Channel +and up to the Hebrides, or a cruise to Norway, he +left the decision to her. She chose Norway. +Matheson, with the shipowner's agreement in his +pocket to extend their truce to May 20th, raised +no objection. There was ample time to be back +in England before that date.</p> + +<p>Olive gave her orders to the captain. Before +weighing anchor, the latter sent on shore for further +provisions. At the same time he dispatched a +telegram to Larssen stating that they were bound +for Norway that evening.</p> + +<p>A smooth deft dinner was served to Matheson +and his wife in the comfortable saloon as the yacht +weighed anchor, slung round to a light wind from +the south-east, and made gently towards the outer +edge of the Goodwins. Through the starboard +portholes Wimereux Plage twinkled gaily to them +from its string of lights on esplanade and summer +villas; Cap Grisnez flashed its calm white light of +guardianship; Calais town sent a message of +kindly greeting from the far distance; only the +Varne Sands whispered a wordless warning as they +swirled the waters above them and sent a flock of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +shivering wavelets to beat against the smooth hull +of the "Starlight."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On that night of April 30th, while Clifford +Matheson slept on board the yacht, the presses of +Fleet Street thundered off millions of newspapers +which bore on their financial page the impressive +prospectus of Hudson Bay Transport, Ltd. The +post bore off to every town and village in the United +Kingdom hundreds of thousands of copies of the +issue in its full legal detail.</p> + +<p>Heading the prospectus were these names on the +Board of Directors:—</p> + + +<ul style="list-style: none;"><li>Clifford Matheson, Esq. (Chairman).</li> +<li>The Right Hon. Lord St Aubyn, P.C., K.C.V.O.</li> +<li>Sir Francis Letchmere, Bart.</li> +<li>Gervase Lowndes Hawley Carleton-Wingate, Esq., M.P.</li> +<li>Lars Larssen, Esq. (Managing Director). To join the Board after allotment.</li></ul> + + + +<p>The capital was divided into 5,000,000 Ordinary +£1 Shares, and 4,000,000 Deferred Shares of 1s. +The latter were assigned to the vendor, Lars Larssen, +in payment for various considerations. He had +also underwritten the entire issue of Ordinary +Shares for a commission of 3 per cent. The lists for +subscription were to open on May 1st and close +at midday on May 3rd. The London and United +Kingdom Bank, in which Lord St. Aubyn was a +Director, was receiving subscriptions and carrying +out the routine of issuing allotment letters.</p> + +<p>Such in essence was the prospectus of Hudson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +Bay Transport, Ltd. It embodied every point that +Larssen aimed for. It was entirely legal, since +Matheson had O.K.'d a copy of the prospectus, and +the further agreement between the two men had +been technically evaded by the fact of Larssen +underwriting the entire issue himself.</p> + +<p>By the time the "Starlight" reached Norway, +the subscription lists would be closed and Matheson +would be impotent to veto the issue. If he were +three days on the high seas between France and +Norway, Larssen would have gained the control of +Britain's wheat-supply.</p> + +<p>And Matheson had no knowledge of the daring +game that his adversary was venturing. Not even +a suspicion of it. In his pocket was the shipowner's +agreement to extend their truce to May 20th. His +mind was at rest regarding the Hudson Bay Scheme.</p> + +<p>His thoughts were now centred on Olive and the +strange <i>volte face</i> in her feelings towards him. The +change in her was scarcely understandable. Yet +it was entirely a normal outcome of her essential +character. Olive had never appreciated Clifford's +value to herself until that day at Wiesbaden when +she had realised his value to the woman who was +ready to sacrifice her reputation and her happiness +in order to free his hands. The torrent of bitter +words she had poured on Elaine was the reflex +action of that sudden realisation. It was born of +uncontrollable jealousy.</p> + +<p>Now she wanted to win Clifford back. It was +not sufficient that he had returned to her side. She +wanted his regard, his esteem, his affection, his love. +She wanted a child by him to bind them together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +The tenderness with which she was looking after +Larssen's little son was an outward expression of +that inner hope. It was a prophecy of the future. +Olaf stood for what might be. If she should have +a child of her own, she felt convinced that Clifford +would remain with her.</p> + +<p>Those feelings were now the focus of Olive's +thoughts. The sincerity of her greeting to Clifford +was not an assumed emotion. It was inner-real. +And yet it might not last for long. The effect of +her drug-taking was to make every momentary +feeling seem an eternal, ineradicable mainspring of +action. Her many moods were each at the moment +vitally important to her. They obsessed her. +The morphia had not only undermined her physical +health, but had made her mind the prey of every +passing emotion.</p> + +<p>For his part, Matheson was trying to weigh up +the essential value of this sudden change in his +wife. He admitted the sincerity; he doubted the +permanency. He realised that she ardently desired +a child of her own—that was plain to read from +her attitude towards Larssen's son. But in the +past she had always been impatient with children, +and he questioned whether her present feeling +was more than transitory.</p> + +<p>The morning of May 1st brought grey sky, grey +waters, and a tumbling sea. The yacht was beating +north-east, close-hauled, into a stiff breeze from +eastwards. No land was in sight—only a few +trawler sails and a squat, ugly tramp steamer +flinging a pennant of black smoke to westwards. +As the day wore on the wind rose steadily, and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +the afternoon the watch turned out to reef sails. +Matheson was an excellent sailor, and this tussle +with the elements exhilarated him. Olive, too, +was quite at home on board a yacht, and the two +marched the decks together in keen enjoyment of +the bite of the wind and the whip of the salt spray.</p> + +<p>By nightfall the wind had increased to a half-gale +but the "Starlight" rode through the sea in splendid +defiance, sure of her staunchness and steady in her +purpose.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In this fight for the control of Britain's wheat-supply, +Larssen had played to the highest his +powers of intellect, his foresight, and his ruthless +determination. He had forced the signature of +Clifford Matheson to the draft prospectus, thus +sanctioning its issue. He had evaded by one +daring stroke the spirit of his own signed agreement. +He had most carefully and minutely arranged for +the flotation of the company at the time when +Matheson would be on the high seas and out of +touch with London news.</p> + +<p>The "Starlight" was a well-found yacht, capable +of weathering any North Sea gale. She had oil-engines +to supplement her sailing power. She was +provisioned for a month. Rough weather would +not drive her back to harbour. She could fight +through any wind or sea to Norway. Nothing had +been overlooked to carry Larssen's scheme to +perfect success.</p> + +<p>Save only the hand of Providence.... Fate....</p> + +<p>For such a man as Lars Larssen there is no other +antagonist he need fear.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Fate, with its little finger, can squeeze him +to nothingness.</p> + +<p>Out in the North Sea, wallowing sullenly in the +trough of the waves, her masts gone by the board +and her deck awash, lay the derelict schooner +"Valkyrie" of Bergen. She would have been at +the bottom of the sea had it not been for her cargo +of Norway pine, keeping her painfully afloat against +her will. Fate, with its little finger, moved this +uncharted peril right in the track of the "Starlight," +beating close-reefed through the buffeting waves +on the night of May 1st, while Larssen, in his London +home, satisfied that his plans had foreseen every +human eventuality, slept the easy sleep of the +successful.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">INTERVENTION</span></h2> + + +<p>The "Starlight" struck the sodden derelict +shortly before midnight, with a crash that +jarred the yacht to her innermost fibres.</p> + +<p>She struck it full abeam, like a motor-car smashing +in the dark into an unlighted farm-waggon +drawn across a country lane. Bows crumpled up; +bowsprit snapped away; foremast, loosed from +its stay, and forced back by the pressure of a half-gale +on the close-hauled foresail, carried over to +port in a tangle of rope and wire and canvas.</p> + +<p>Thrown back on her haunches, the "Starlight" +gasped and shivered and began to settle by the +head from the rush of water into the forecastle.</p> + +<p>"All on deck with lifebelts!"</p> + +<p>A seaman rushed through the saloons, throwing +wide the cabin doors, and shouting the captain's +order.</p> + +<p>Up above, men were ripping the canvas covers +off the life-boats, flinging oilskins and rugs and +provisions into them, slewing round the davits, +hauling on the fall-ropes—a furious medley of +energies.</p> + +<p>Matheson rushed to his wife's cabin, helped her +on with some clothes, tied her lifebelt, wrapped a +rug around her, and hurried her on deck.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What have we hit?" he snapped at the captain.</p> + +<p>"Derelict."</p> + +<p>"How long d'you give her?"</p> + +<p>"Ten minutes at the outside!" flung back the +captain, and then into his megaphone: "Lower +away there with No. 4!"</p> + +<p>Lifeboat No. 4 was the second boat on the port +side—the leeward side. No. 3 was buried under +the tangle of wreckage from the collapse of the +foremast, and therefore useless. The boat was +already in the water, with the mate and four seamen +aboard, when Matheson, who had hurried +below, came again on deck with Olaf in his arms. +Behind him panted the stewardess and Olive's +maid, terrified and clutching some worthless finery +of hers.</p> + +<p>"Women and children to No. 4!" shouted the +captain.</p> + +<p>"I won't go without you!" cried Olive to her +husband, clinging tight to him.</p> + +<p>The captain wasted no precious moments on +argument. He thrust the stewardess and the +trembling maid before him, and stout arms bundled +them down to the plunging boat. Then he passed +down the little boy.</p> + +<p>"Is there room for all of us?" cried Olive.</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>The mate cast off, and lifeboat No. 4 disappeared +into the black night.</p> + +<p>"Haul on the main and mizzen sheets!" ordered +the captain, to bring the yacht round and get a +leeward launch for Nos. 1 and 2.</p> + +<p>Presently the two crackling sails gybed over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +with a thud, and the "Starlight" lay on the starboard +tack, head down and filling rapidly.</p> + +<p>"Hurry like hell!" shouted the captain.</p> + +<p>Into No. 1, with the boatswain in charge and +four seamen, went Olive and her husband and the +cook; and into No. 2 crowded the carpenter, the +two stewards, and the rest of the crew. For the +captain was left the frail dinghy, slung from the +stern. True to the tradition of the sea, he had +refused a place in any of the lifeboats.</p> + +<p>Lifeboat No. 2 got away first of the two. It was +being tossed dizzily amongst the inky combers +twenty yards distant, the men rowing feverishly to +get clear of the yacht before she sank and sucked +them under. But with No. 1 there was some +hitch. The boatswain had unshackled the fall-ropes +aft, and the boat slewed off with the jerk of +a heavy wave.</p> + +<p>"Clear away there forward, blast you!"</p> + +<p>Two seamen were tugging at the fall-block. +Something had fouled. The "Starlight" was rearing +head stern up; her shattered bows were already +under the waves; her life was now a matter of +seconds only.</p> + +<p>"Cut the ropes, you blasted idiots!"</p> + +<p>Before the two men could get their knives +through the tough rope, the "Starlight" reared +like a bucking mare and plunged to her grave, +dragging with her lifeboat No. 1 and its eight +occupants.</p> + +<p>"Jump for it!" yelled the boatswain.</p> + +<p>Matheson, one foot caught under a seat, was +dragged down and down until his heart hammered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +like a piston and his lungs were bursting with the +fierce effort to hold his breath.</p> + +<p>To the drowning man there comes a moment +when he perforce gives up the fight and abandons +himself to the blessed peace of unconsciousness, +like a wanderer in a snowstorm lying down to rest. +That moment had come to Matheson, when suddenly +the half-severed rope that shackled the lifeboat to +the doomed yacht gave way, and with a mutinous +jerk the boat rushed itself to the surface, bottom +upwards, flinging Matheson clear.</p> + +<p>His craving lungs opened to the free air; he lay +back on his cork-jacket gulping it in greedily as the +whirlpool formed by the sinking yacht carried him +round and round in dizzy circles.</p> + +<p>The moments of recuperation past, his first +thought was for his wife. He caught sight of a +shapeless something at the further side of the +whirlpool, and with all his strength beat round +towards it. It was Olive, clinging to an oar.</p> + +<p>He reached her; shouted some words of hope +above the roar of the wind; searched around the +blackness of the night for a place of safety. Thirty +yards away, tossed upwards on a giant wave as +though in signal to them, there showed for a brief +moment the silhouette of an upturned boat, with +two men clinging to it.</p> + +<p>"Our boat—over there!" he cried to Olive, and +clutching her by the arm, fought the combers +towards the hope of refuge.</p> + +<p>Straddled across the upturned lifeboat were +the boatswain and a seaman. The others had +disappeared. On such a night it was impos<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>sible +to rescue them unless by the accident of +chance.</p> + +<p>Matheson, buffeted and blinded by the thrash of +the waves, just managed to drag Olive to the boat's +side. The boatswain, Fraser by name, lent him a +hand while he recuperated sufficiently to hoist +Olive across the keel of the storm-tossed boat.</p> + +<p>"Where are the other boats?" he asked of +Fraser, when he had recovered speech.</p> + +<p>The boatswain made a gesture of helplessness. +In that inky night, who could say where lifeboats +No. 2 and 4 might be?</p> + +<p>Presently a rocket flung a rain of white stars +across the black curtain of the sky. It must be +from one of their own boats. But it was far away +across the waters. They shouted with all their +might. The wind hurled their words away in +disdain of the puny effort.</p> + +<p>Matheson had pocketed a flask of brandy when +the call of all hands on deck had sent him tumbling +out of his berth. He now poured some of the +spirit down Olive's throat, and passed the flask +on to the men.</p> + +<p>"Be sparing with it," he warned.</p> + +<p>Then he set to work to make his moaning wife as +comfortable as the terrible circumstances of their +plight would permit. He took off his coat and got +her into it, binding her cork jacket around. A rope +was trailing from the stern and he secured this +and tied it round her waist, giving one end to Fraser +to hold and keeping tight hold of the other himself.</p> + +<p>Very little was said as the endless hours of the +night dragged their leaden length to a sullen dawn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Give me the morphia!" Olive had moaned at +intervals, in a delirium of fever.</p> + +<p>The seaman, who had been the man on watch +when the "Starlight" struck the unlighted derelict, +had cursed intermittently at the cause of the disaster. +"Why didn't they show a blasted light?" he kept +on repeating with obstinate illogicality. "Why +didn't the fools show a blasted light?"</p> + +<p>"Old man Larssen will give you hell when we +get to shore."</p> + +<p>Olive, in her delirium, caught at the words. "I +can see the shore!" she cried. "Over there—over +there! Why don't you row? You want to +kill me first!"</p> + +<p>Matheson tried to soothe her.</p> + +<p>"We'll soon be on shore. A boat will pick us +up at daybreak."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't they show a blasted light?" cursed +the seaman.</p> + +<p>The sullen dawn uncurtained a waste of slag-coloured, +heaving waters. The gale had spent its +sudden fury, as though its work were now accomplished, +but the sky was grey and inhospitable. +Matheson raised himself on his knees on the keel +of the boat again and again to search around, but +no sail or steamer-smoke gave hope of rescue.</p> + +<p>It was not until ten o'clock that a trawler came +within distance of seeing them, but apparently +their signals of distress were not noticed, for the +fishing vessel passed on to its work and disappeared +over the horizon.</p> + +<p>A few fitful gleams of sunlight mocked their +shiverings with promise of warmth—promise un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>fulfilled. +Their brandy was now exhausted, and +some ship's biscuits in the boatswain's pocket were +sodden and uneatable. Thirst began to add to +the horrors of the situation. Olive was moaning +for water, and they had none to give her.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was far advanced before a Copenhagen-Hull +packet ran across them, taking on +board three exhausted men and a woman in +delirium.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI +<br /> +<span style="font-size: 75%;">FINALITY</span></h2> + + +<p>At Hull, prepared by wireless, doctors and +nurses were waiting for Olive when the +vessel reached port late at night. As +Matheson hurried with the ambulance along the +quayside, a tubby little figure of a man came up +to him.</p> + +<p>"You remember me—Martin?" he asked. "I'm +covering this story for the <i>Daily Truth</i>."</p> + +<p>"Come with me," answered Matheson. "I'll +give you the information you want presently."</p> + +<p>He had first to see Olive safely in hospital. It +was all that he could do for her. Then he returned +to the journalist.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that you know that the other two +boats were picked up early this morning?" said +Martin.</p> + +<p>"Good! and Larssen's little boy?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sound. I made a special interview +with him.... By the way, you know that +the Hudson Bay flotation is going strong on the +wing?"</p> + +<p>He held out a newspaper folded back to the +financial page. A few moments' glance was sufficient +to tell Matheson all that he needed to know—that +the issue had been launched in his name on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +the night of April 30th; that to-morrow at twelve +o'clock the lists were to be closed.</p> + +<p>If he were to act at all, he must act now—<i>at +once</i>. His jaw squared and his mouth tightened +as he thought out the situation.</p> + +<p>Then to the journalist: "We've got to smash +this—you and I."</p> + +<p>From the wallet in his breast-pocket Matheson +took out Larssen's two agreements—blurred with +sea-water, but now dried and fit for his purpose. +He handed the agreements to Martin, who whistled +surprise as he read them.</p> + +<p>"He's underwritten it himself," was the latter's +comment.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That evades his agreement with me.... What's +the price of a full-page advertisement +in your paper?"</p> + +<p>"First, what's the idea?" returned the journalist.</p> + +<p>Matheson led the way to a hotel near at hand, +and on a sheet of hotel note-paper wrote these +words:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The use of my name on the Hudson Bay prospectus +is absolutely unauthorized. I earnestly +advise all investors to cancel their applications by +wire—at once.</p> + +<p>(Signed) "<span class="smcap">Clifford Matheson</span>"</p></div> + +<p>"I want that on a full page," he said decisively.</p> + +<p>The journalist read the words, and then looked +up suspiciously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I knew you as a Mr John Rivière," he objected.</p> + +<p>"I know, but I'm Clifford Matheson. I'll prove +it to you. I'll bring you the two survivors from +the 'Starlight' to testify."</p> + +<p>"That's not much evidence."</p> + +<p>"In town I could take you to my bankers, but +to-night it's impossible. Martin, you've <i>got</i> to +believe me! Hear what those two men have to +say!"</p> + +<p>The journalist considered the matter in sober +silence.</p> + +<p>"An advertisement like this is sheer libel," he +answered presently. "Larssen could rook you +for goodness knows what damages if you got it +published."</p> + +<p>"I know. That goes."</p> + +<p>"But my owners wouldn't stand for the damages. +They'd be equally liable, you know."</p> + +<p>"I'll guarantee them up to my last shilling. +Get your editor on the trunk wire, and find out how +much guarantee he'll want me to put up."</p> + +<p>Martin looked at him half in admiration and half +in doubtfulness.</p> + +<p>"It would be a tremendous risk for me to take!"</p> + +<p>Matheson looked him square in the eye.</p> + +<p>"If you want a scoop that will make your career," +he answered slowly, "it's here. Waiting for you +to pick it up. I promised you first call on my +news—here it is. Have you the pluck to take +your opportunity?"</p> + +<p>"Exclusive?" asked Martin, the magic word +"scoop" setting him aflame.</p> + +<p>"Exclusive," agreed Matheson.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'll prove to me that you're Clifford +Matheson right enough?"</p> + +<p>"Within half an hour. And give you a full +interview, explaining my reasons for the announcement."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm on!"</p> + +<p>Martin had a well-deserved newspaper reputation +for accuracy and good judgment. On his urgent +recommendation, therefore, the managing editor +of the <i>Daily Truth</i> consented to run Clifford +Matheson's full-page advertisement and to insert +the interview, contingent on his depositing with +Martin a cheque for £250,000 to indemnify the +paper against a possible libel action on the part +of Lars Larssen.</p> + +<p>Matheson also prepared letters to Sir Francis +Letchmere, Lord St Aubyn, and Carleton-Wingate, +giving a statement of his reasons for the announcement +in the <i>Daily Truth</i> of the next morning, +and asking them to send telegrams to all those who +had made applications for shares. The telegram +to be sent out was worded:—</p> + +<p>"I strongly advise all investors to cancel by +wire their applications for shares in Hudson Bay +Transport. See explanation in Daily Truth of +May 3rd.—<span class="smcap">Clifford Matheson</span>."</p> + +<p>Martin, who was leaving for London by a midnight +train, took charge of the three letters and +promised to have them safely delivered to the three +Directors of the company early in the morning.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Two days later, Matheson had to leave his wife +in the hands of the doctors in order to attend a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +brief meeting of the Board of Directors of Hudson +Bay Transport, Ltd.</p> + +<p>They were seated in the stately board-room of +the London and United Kingdom Bank in Lombard +Street, at one end of the huge oval table over which +the affairs of nations are settled. Clifford Matheson +was in the chair.</p> + +<p>The routine business of the meeting had been +cleared when a clerk announced that Mr Larssen +wished to enter. Until the allotments had been +made by the other four Directors, he had no legal +right to sit at the board of the company or to take +part in any discussion. He now asked formal +permission to enter, and the Directors formally +agreed to receive him.</p> + +<p>If they thought to find in Lars Larssen a beaten +man, they were greatly mistaken. He came in +with his usual masterful stride, and his eyes met +theirs surely and squarely.</p> + +<p>"I've come to hear what's been fixed between +you," he said, and took a seat at the table.</p> + +<p>Matheson took up a paper from the bundle before +him on the table, and replied with studied formality: +"The applications for shares totalled £6,714,000 +in round figures. Of these, all but £8200 were +cancelled by telegram or letter on the morning of +May 3rd."</p> + +<p>"As a consequence of your advertisement in +the newspaper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. The Board decided to proceed to allotment, +and we have accordingly allotted the applications +for 8200 shares. The remainder of the +5,000,000 ordinary shares will have to be taken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +up and paid for by yourself under the terms of +your underwriting agreement."</p> + +<p>"I expected that. I'm ready to carry out my +bond."</p> + +<p>"As you will see," continued Matheson with the +same studied formality cloaking the irony of his +words, "you gain control."</p> + +<p>Larssen smiled tolerantly. "That's turned the +trick right enough, but don't flatter yourself that +<i>you</i> did it. If it hadn't been for a sheer accident +that no man alive could foresee or prevent, I'd +have won hands down. I haven't been beaten by +<i>you</i>, and so I don't bear grudge. And I've no +intention of bringing a libel action to gratify your +longing for the limelight. I'll just sit tight and +let the Hudson Bay scheme flatten out to nothing."</p> + +<p>He flicked thumb and forefinger together contemptuously. +"That Hudson Bay scheme was +chicken-feed. I've bigger than that up my sleeve. +What you've done won't put the stopper on me. +Let me tell you, Matheson, that it will take a better +man than you to down Lars Larssen."</p> + +<p>When he left the board-room, all four Directors +remained silent. They knew that he had spoken +truth. Even in defeat Lars Larssen was a bigger +man than any of the four.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>From the first, the doctors had little hope of +saving Olive. Her constitution, never a strong +one, had been undermined by the luxurious pleasure-seeking +of her life and the deadly nerve-poison +of the morphia. That night and day on the upturned +boat—drenched with the waves, chilled,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +famished, tortured with thirst—had been an ordeal +to shatter even a woman with big reserves of strength, +and Olive had no such reserves.</p> + +<p>When Matheson and his father-in-law hurried +back to Hull, it was to find that life was slowly +ebbing. Towards the end her mind cleared of +delirium, and she spoke rationally.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is all for the best, Clifford," she +murmured. "You came back to me, but could I +have held you?"</p> + +<p>"You had come to care for me again," he +answered gently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I am so uncertain. It's my nature. +I might have held you for a little while ... and +then."</p> + +<p>"You must think only of getting well again," +he urged.</p> + +<p>"Don't try to buoy me up with false hopes. It +is kind of you, dear; but I see things clearly now.... You +came back to me, and I am content. I +want rest now—just rest."</p> + +<p>Presently her eyelids closed in sleep. Matheson +sat watching by her bedside for a long while, holding +her hand. She stirred once and murmured drowsily, +"You came back to me." And in her sleep she +passed away so gradually that none could say when +mortal life had ended and the life eternal had +begun.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</h2> + + +<p>In the spring of the following year, Clifford and +Elaine were on their wedding journey to Italy. +He had rented a sea-coast villa on the Ligurian +Riviera, and they were travelling to there from +Paris.</p> + +<p>It was late at night when the Rome express set +them down at their destination. The sea was +booming eerily against the rock-wall of the tiny +harbour of Santa Margherita, crowded with lateen-sailed +fishing craft silhouetted as a tangle of masts +and ropes.</p> + +<p>But the morning showed a cloudless sky and +sunshine dancing on the blue waters of the Gulf of +Tigullio. They walked together to the tiny fishing +village of Portofino, along the most beautiful +road in Italy. To the one side the azure sea was +lapping to their feet soft messages of welcome, +and to the other the olives and the pastel pines were +crowding down the hillsides to wish them joy and +happiness.</p> + +<p>They climbed together through a grey-green +veil of olive-orchards, past the little white Noah's +Ark houses of the olive farmers and their quaint little +Noah's ark cypresses, to the full height of Portofino +Kulm, where the whole enchanted coast-line of the +Riviera from Genoa to Sestri Levante lay spread +out as a jewelled fringe of ocean. Elaine stood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +hatless while the wanton breeze caressed her +glorious hair and caught at her skirts with careless +familiarity.</p> + +<p>She threw her arms wide as she cried joyously +to Clifford: "Just to be able to <i>see</i> all this!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks to Dr Hegelmann."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad your work is for science. Some day +you'll be able to give to others in return for what +science has given to me."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I hope so."</p> + +<p>"For a month I claim you for myself," continued +Elaine. "You and I alone.... Then I'll share +you with your work—your big work. You and I +and your work!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class='center'>TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH<span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_1" id="ads_Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A SELECTION OF BOOKS +PUBLISHED BY METHUEN +AND CO. LTD., LONDON<br/> +36 ESSEX STREET<br /> +W.C.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ads_CONTENTS" id="ads_CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'></td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>General Literature</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_2">2</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Ancient Cities</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_13">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Antiquary's Books</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_13">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Arden Shakespeare</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Classics of Art</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>'Complete' Series</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Connoisseur's Library</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Handbooks of English Church History</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Handbooks of Theology</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>'Home Life' Series</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Illustrated Pocket Library of Plain and Coloured Books.</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Leaders of Religion</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Library of Devotion</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Little Books on Art</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Little Galleries</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Little Guides</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Little Library</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Little Quarto Shakespeare</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Miniature Library</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>New Library of Medicine</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>New Library of Music</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Oxford Biographies</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Four Plays</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>States of Italy</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Westminster Commentaries</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>'Young' Series</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Shilling Library</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Books for Travellers</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Some Books on Art</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Some Books on Italy</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_24">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>Fiction</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Books for Boys and Girls</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Shilling Novels</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Sevenpenny Novels</td><td align='right'><a href="#ads_Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_2" id="ads_Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h2><span class="smcap">A selection of +Messrs. Methuen's +publications</span></h2> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>In this Catalogue the order is according to authors. An asterisk denotes +that the book is in the press.</p> + +<p>Colonial Editions are published of all Messrs. <span class="smcap">Methuen's</span> Novels issued +at a price above <i>2s. 6d.</i>, and similar editions are published of some works of +General Literature. Colonial Editions are only for circulation in the British +Colonies and India.</p> + +<p>All books marked net are not subject to discount, and cannot be bought +at less than the published price. Books not marked net are subject to the +discount which the bookseller allows.</p> + +<p>Messrs. <span class="smcap">Methuen's</span> books are kept in stock by all good booksellers. If +there is any difficulty in seeing copies, Messrs. Methuen will be very glad to +have early information, and specimen copies of any books will be sent on +receipt of the published price <i>plus</i> postage for net books, and of the published +price for ordinary books.</p> + +<p>This Catalogue contains only a selection of the more important books +published by Messrs. Methuen. A complete and illustrated catalogue of their +publications may be obtained on application.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><b>Abraham (G. D.).</b> MOTOR WAYS IN +LAKELAND. Illustrated. <i>Second +Edition. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Adcock (A. St. John).</b> THE BOOK-LOVER'S +LONDON. Illustrated. <i>Second +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Ady (Cecilia M.).</b> PIUS II.: <span class="smcap">The +Humanist Pope</span>. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. +10s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Andrewes (Lancelot).</b> PRECES PRIVATAE. +Translated and edited, with +Notes, by <span class="smcap">F. E. Brightman</span>. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Aristotle.</b> THE ETHICS. Edited, with +an Introduction and Notes, by <span class="smcap">John +Burnet</span>. <i>Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Atkinson (C. T.).</b> A HISTORY OF GERMANY, +1715-1815. <i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Atkinson (T. D.).</b> ENGLISH ARCHITECTURE. +Illustrated. <i>Third Edition. +Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>A GLOSSARY OF TERMS USED IN +ENGLISH ARCHITECTURE. Illustrated. +<i>Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. +net.</i></p> + +<p>ENGLISH AND WELSH CATHEDRALS. +Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. +net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Bain (F. W.).</b> A DIGIT OF THE MOON: +<span class="smcap">A Hindoo Love Story.</span> <i>Tenth Edition. +Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>THE DESCENT OF THE SUN: <span class="smcap">A Cycle +of Birth.</span> <i>Sixth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. +3s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>A HEIFER OF THE DAWN. <i>Eighth +Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>IN THE GREAT GOD'S HAIR. <i>Fifth +Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>A DRAUGHT OF THE BLUE. <i>Fifth +Edition Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>AN ESSENCE OF THE DUSK. <i>Third +Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>AN INCARNATION OF THE SNOW. +<i>Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>A MINE OF FAULTS. <i>Third Edition. +Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>THE ASHES OF A GOD. <i>Second Edition. +Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>BUBBLES OF THE FOAM. <i>Second +Edition. Fcap. 4to. 5s. net. Also Fcap. +8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Balfour (Graham).</b> THE LIFE OF +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Illustrated. +<i>Eleventh Edition. In one Volume. +Cr. 8vo. Buckram, 6s.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Baring (Hon. Maurice).</b> LANDMARKS +IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE. <i>Second +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s. net.</i></p> + +<p>RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES. +<i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> + +<p>THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE. <i>Demy 8vo. +15s. net.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_3" id="ads_Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>Baring-Gould (S.).</b> THE LIFE OF +NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. Illustrated. +<i>Second Edition. Royal 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>THE TRAGEDY OF THE CÆSARS: +A <span class="smcap">Study of the Characters of the +Cæsars of the Julian and Claudian +Houses</span>. Illustrated. <i>Seventh Edition. +Royal 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p>THE VICAR OF MORWENSTOW. With +a Portrait. <i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p>OLD COUNTRY LIFE. Illustrated. <i>Fifth +Edition. Large Cr. 8vo. 6s.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p>A BOOK OF CORNWALL. Illustrated. +<i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>A BOOK OF DARTMOOR. Illustrated. +<i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>A BOOK OF DEVON. Illustrated. <i>Third +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Baring-Gould (S.)</b> and <b>Sheppard (H. Fleetwood).</b> +A GARLAND OF COUNTRY +SONG. English Folk Songs with their +Traditional Melodies. <i>Demy 4to. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>SONGS OF THE WEST. Folk Songs of +Devon and Cornwall. Collected from the +Mouths of the People. New and Revised +Edition, under the musical editorship of +<span class="smcap">Cecil J. Sharp</span>. <i>Large Imperial 8vo. +5s. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Barker (E.).</b> THE POLITICAL +THOUGHT OF PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. +<i>Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Bastable (C. F.).</b> THE COMMERCE OF +NATIONS. <i>Sixth Edition. Cr. 8vo. +2s. 6d.</i></p> + +<p><b>Beckford (Peter).</b> THOUGHTS ON +HUNTING. Edited by <span class="smcap">J. Otho Paget</span>. +Illustrated. <i>Third Edition. Demy 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Belloc (H.).</b> PARIS. Illustrated. <i>Third +Edition. 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Interpretations, +embodying Wagner's own explanations. +By <span class="smcap">Alice Leighton Cleather</span> +and <span class="smcap">Basil Crump</span>. <i>Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. each.</i></p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">The Ring of the Nibelung</span>.</li> +<li><i>Sixth Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Lohengrin and Parsifal</span>.</li> +<li><i>Third Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Tristan and Isolde</span>.</li> +<li><i>Second Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Tannhäuser and the Mastersingers of Nuremberg</span>.</li> +</ul> + +<p><b>Waterhouse (Elizabeth).</b> WITH THE +SIMPLE-HEARTED. Little Homilies to +Women in Country Places. <i>Third Edition. +Small Pott 8vo. 2s. net.</i></p> + +<p>THE HOUSE BY THE CHERRY TREE. +A Second Series of Little Homilies to +Women in Country Places. <i>Small Pott 8vo. +2s. net.</i></p> + +<p>COMPANIONS OF THE WAY. 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With an Introduction by <span class="smcap">Spenser +Wilkinson</span>. With 24 Maps and Plans. +<i>Third Edition. Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Wordsworth (W.).</b> POEMS. With an +Introduction and Notes by <span class="smcap">Nowell C. +Smith</span>. <i>Three Volumes. Demy 8vo. 15s. +net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Yeats (W. B.).</b> A BOOK OF IRISH +VERSE. <i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_13" id="ads_Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><span class="smcap">Part II.—A Selection of Series</span></h2> + + +<p><b>Ancient Cities</b></p> + +<p>General Editor, <span class="smcap">Sir B. C. A. WINDLE</span></p> + +<p><i>Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net each volume</i></p> + +<p>With Illustrations by E. H. <span class="smcap">New</span>, and other Artists</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Bristol</span>. Alfred Harvey.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Canterbury</span>. J. C. Cox.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Chester</span>. Sir B. C. A. Windle.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Dublin</span>. S. A. O. Fitzpatrick.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Edinburgh</span>. M. G. Williamson.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lincoln</span>. E. Mansel Sympson.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Shrewsbury</span>. T. Auden.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wells</span> and <span class="smcap">Glastonbury</span>. T. S. Holmes.</li> +</ul> + + +<p><b>The Antiquary's Books</b></p> + +<p>General Editor, J. CHARLES COX</p> + +<p><i>Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net each volume</i></p> + +<p>With Numerous Illustrations</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Ancient Painted Glass in England</span>. Philip Nelson.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Archæology and False Antiquities</span>. R. Munro.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Bells of England, The</span>. Canon J. J. Raven. <i>Second Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Brasses of England, The</span>. Herbert W. Macklin. <i>Third Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Celtic Art in Pagan and Christian Times</span>. J. Romilly Allen. <i>Second Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Castles and Walled Towns of England, The</span>. A. Harvey.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Churchwarden's Accounts from the Fourteenth Century to the Close of the Seventeenth Century</span>.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Domesday Inquest, The</span>. Adolphus Ballard.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">English Church Furniture</span>. J. C. Cox and A. Harvey. <i>Second Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">English Costume</span>. From Prehistoric Times to the End of the Eighteenth Century. George Clinch.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">English Monastic Life</span>. Abbot Gasquet. <i>Fourth Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">English Seals</span>. J. Harvey Bloom.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Folk-Lore as an Historical Science</span>. Sir G. L. Gomme.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Gilds and Companies of London, The</span>. George Unwin.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">*Hermits and Anchorites of England, The</span>. Rotha Mary Clay.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Manor and Manorial Records, The</span>. Nathaniel J. Hone. <i>Second Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Mediæval Hospitals of England, The</span>. Rotha Mary Clay.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Old English Instruments of Music</span>. F. W. Galpin. <i>Second Edition.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_14" id="ads_Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Old English Libraries</span>. James Hutt.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Old Service Books of the English Church</span>. Christopher Wordsworth, and Henry Littlehales. <i>Second Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Parish Life in Mediæval England</span>. Abbot Gasquet. <i>Third Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Parish Registers of England, The</span>. J. C. Cox.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Remains of the Prehistoric Age in England</span>. Sir B. C. A. Windle. <i>Second Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Roman Era in Britain, The</span>. J. Ward.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Romano-British Buildings and Earth works</span>. J. Ward.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Royal Forests of England, The</span>. J. C. Cox.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Shrines of British Saints</span>. J. C. 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BEECHING. <i>With Portraits</i></p> + +<p><i>Crown 8vo. 2s. net each volume</i></p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Cardinal Newman</span>. R. H. Hutton.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">John Wesley</span>. J. H. Overton.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Bishop Wilberforce</span>. G. W. Daniell.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Cardinal Manning</span>. A. W. Hutton.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Charles Simeon</span>. H. C. G. Moule.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">John Knox</span>. F. MacCunn. <i>Second Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">John Howe</span>. R. F. Horton.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Thomas Ken</span>. F. A. Clarke.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">George Fox, the Quaker</span>. T. Hodgkin. <i>Third Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">John Keble</span>. Walter Lock.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Thomas Chalmers</span>. Mrs. Oliphant. <i>Second Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Lancelot Andrewes</span>. R. L. 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A Day Book from the Writings of Mystics of Many Nations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_18" id="ads_Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></li> +</ul> + + +<p><b>Little Books on Art</b></p> + +<p><i>With many Illustrations. Demy 16mo. 2s. 6d. net each volume</i></p> + +<p>Each volume consists of about 200 pages, and contains from 30 to 40 Illustrations, +including a Frontispiece in Photogravure</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Albrecht Dürer</span>. L. J. Allen.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Arts of Japan, The</span>. E. Dillon. <i>Third Edition.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Bookplates</span>. E. Almack.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Botticelli</span>. Mary L. Bonnor.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Burne-Jones</span>. F. de Lisle.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Cellini</span>. R. H. H. Cust.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Christian Symbolism</span>. Mrs. H. Jenner.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Christ in Art</span>. Mrs. H. 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Cloth, 2s. 6d. net; leather, 3s. 6d. net each volume</i></p> + +<p>The main features of these Guides are (1) a handy and charming form; (2) illustrations +from photographs and by well-known artists; (3) good plans and maps; +(4) an adequate but compact presentation of everything that is interesting in the +natural features, history, archæology, and architecture of the town or district treated.</p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Cambridge and its Colleges</span>. A. H. Thompson. <i>Third Edition, Revised.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Channel Islands, The</span>. E. E. Bicknell.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">English Lakes, The</span>. F. G. Brabant.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Isle of Wight, The</span>. G. Clinch.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">London</span>. G Clinch.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Malvern Country, The</span>. Sir B.C.A. Windle.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">North Wales</span>. A. T. 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Dutt.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Norway and its Fjords</span>. M. A. Wyllie.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Rhine, A Book of the</span>. S. Baring-Gould.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Rome</span>. Edward Hutton.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Round about Wiltshire</span>. A. G. Bradley.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Scotland of To-day</span>. T. F. Henderson and Francis Watt.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Siena and Southern Tuscany</span>. Edward Hutton.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Skirts of the Great City, The</span>. Mrs. A. G. Bell.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Through East Anglia in a Motor Car</span>. J. E. Vincent.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Venice and Venetia</span>. Edward Hutton.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Wanderer in Florence</span>, A. E. V. Lucas.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Wanderer in Paris</span>, A. E. V. Lucas.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Wanderer in Holland</span>, A. E. V. Lucas.</li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Wanderer in London</span>, A. E. V. Lucas.</li> +</ul> + + +<p><b>Some Books on Art</b></p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Armourer and his Craft, The</span>. Charles ffoulkes. Illustrated. <i>Royal 4to. £2 2s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Art and Life</span>. T. Sturge Moore. Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">British School, The</span>. An Anecdotal Guide to the British Painters and Paintings in the National Gallery. E. V. Lucas. Illustrated. <i>Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Decorative Iron Work</span>. From the <span class="smcap">xi</span>th to the <span class="smcap">xviii</span>th Century. Charles ffoulkes. <i>Royal 4to. £2 2s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Francesco Guardi</span>, 1712-1793. G. A. Simonson. Illustrated. <i>Imperial 4to. £2 2s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Illustrations of the Book of Job</span>. William Blake. <i>Quarto. £1 1s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">John Lucas, Portrait Painter</span>, 1828-1874. Arthur Lucas. Illustrated. <i>Imperial 4to. £3 3s net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Old Paste</span>. A. Beresford Ryley. Illustrated. <i>Royal 4to. £2 2s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">One Hundred Masterpieces of Painting</span>. With an Introduction by R. C. Witt. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition, Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">One Hundred Masterpieces of Sculpture</span>. With an Introduction by G. F. Hill. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Romney Folio</span>, A. With an Essay by A. B. Chamberlain. <i>Imperial Folio. £15 15s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Royal Academy Lectures on Painting</span>. George Clausen. Illustrated. <i>Crown 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Saints in Art, The</span>. Margaret E. Tabor. Illustrated. <i>Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Schools of Painting</span>. Mary Innes. Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Celtic Art in Pagan and Christian Times</span>. J. R. Allen. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li>'<span class="smcap">Classics of Art</span>.' See page <a href="#ads_Page_14">14</a>.</li> + +<li>'<span class="smcap">The Connoisseur's Library</span>.' See page <a href="#ads_Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li>'<span class="smcap">Little Books on Art</span>.' See page <a href="#ads_Page_18">18</a>.</li> + +<li>'<span class="smcap">The Little Galleries</span>.' See page <a href="#ads_Page_18">18</a>.</li> +</ul> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_24" id="ads_Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>Some Books on Italy</b></p> + + +<ul><li><span class="smcap">Etruria and Modern Tuscany, Old</span>. Mary L. Cameron. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Florence</span>: Her History and Art to the Fall of the Republic. F. A. Hyett. <i>Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Florence, A Wanderer in</span>. E. V. Lucas. Illustrated. <i>Sixth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Florence and her Treasures</span>. H. M. Vaughan. Illustrated. <i>Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Florence, Country Walks about</span>. Edward Hutton. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Florence and the Cities of Northern Tuscany, with Genoa</span>. Edward Hutton. Illustrated. <i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Lombardy, The Cities of</span>. Edward Hutton. Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Milan under the Sforza, A History of</span>. Cecilia M. Ady. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Naples</span>: Past and Present. A. H. Norway. Illustrated. <i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Naples Riviera, The</span>. H. M. Vaughan. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Perugia, A History of</span>. William Heywood. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Rome</span>. Edward Hutton. Illustrated. <i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Romagna and the Marches, The cities of</span>. Edward Hutton. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Roman Pilgrimage</span>, A. R. E. Roberts. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Rome of the Pilgrims and Martyrs</span>. Ethel Ross Barker. <i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Rome</span>. C. G. Ellaby. Illustrated. <i>Small Pott 8vo. Cloth, 2s. 6d. net; leather, 3s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Sicily</span>. F. H. Jackson. Illustrated. <i>Small Pott 8vo. Cloth, 2s. 6d. net; leather, 3s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Sicily</span>: The New Winter Resort. Douglas Sladen. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Siena and Southern Tuscany</span>. Edward Hutton. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Umbria, The Cities of</span>. Edward Hutton. Illustrated. <i>Fifth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Venice and Venetia</span>. Edward Hutton. Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Venice on Foot</span>. H. A. Douglas. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Venice and her Treasures</span>. H. A. Douglas. Illustrated. <i>Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Verona, A History of</span>. A. M. Allen. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Dante and his Italy</span>. Lonsdale Ragg. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Dante Alighieri</span>: His Life and Works. Paget Toynbee. Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Home Life in Italy</span>. Lina Duff Gordon. Illustrated. <i>Third Edition. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Lakes of Northern Italy, The</span>. Richard Bagot. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Lorenzo the Magnificent</span>. E. L. S. Horsburgh. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 15s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Medici Popes, The</span>. H. M. Vaughan. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 15s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">St. Catherine of Siena and her Times</span>. By the Author of 'Mdlle. Mori.' Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">S. Francis of Assisi, The Lives of</span>. Brother Thomas of Celano. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Savonarola, Girolamo</span>. E. L. S. Horsburgh. Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Shelley and his Friends in Italy</span>. Helen R. Angeli. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Skies Italian</span>: A Little Breviary for Travellers in Italy. Ruth S. Phelps. <i>Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">United Italy</span>. F. M. Underwood. <i>Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Woman in Italy</span>. W. Boulting. Illustrated. <i>Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></li> +</ul> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_25" id="ads_Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><span class="smcap">Part III.—A Selection of Works of Fiction</span></h2> + + +<p><b>Albanesi (E. Maria).</b> SUSANNAH AND +ONE OTHER. <i>Fourth Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>I KNOW A MAIDEN. <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE INVINCIBLE AMELIA; <span class="smcap">or, The +Polite Adventuress</span>. <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> + +<p>THE GLAD HEART. <i>Fifth Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>OLIVIA MARY. <i>Fourth Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE BELOVED ENEMY. <i>Second Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Bagot (Richard).</b> A ROMAN MYSTERY. +<i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE PASSPORT. <i>Fourth Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>ANTHONY CUTHBERT. <i>Fourth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>LOVE'S PROXY. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>DONNA DIANA. <i>Second Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE HOUSE OF SERRAVALLE. <i>Third +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>DARNELEY PLACE. <i>Second Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Bailey (H. C.).</b> STORM AND TREASURE. +<i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE LONELY QUEEN. <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE SEA CAPTAIN. <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Baring-Gould (S.).</b> IN THE ROAR OF +THE SEA. <i>Eighth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>MARGERY OF QUETHER. <i>Second Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE QUEEN OF LOVE. <i>Fifth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>NOEMI. Illustrated. <i>Fourth Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE BROOM-SQUIRE. Illustrated. <i>Fifth +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>BLADYS OF THE STEWPONEY. Illustrated. +<i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>PABO THE PRIEST. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>WINEFRED. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>IN DEWISLAND. <i>Second Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>MRS. CURGENVEN OF CURGENVEN. +<i>Fifth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Barr (Robert).</b> IN THE MIDST OF +ALARMS. <i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE COUNTESS TEKLA. <i>Fifth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE MUTABLE MANY. <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Begbie (Harold).</b> <span class="smcap">THE CURIOUS AND +DIVERTING ADVENTURES OF SIR +JOHN SPARROW, Bart.; or, The +Progress of an Open Mind.</span> <i>Second +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Belloc (H.).</b> EMMANUEL BURDEN, +MERCHANT. Illustrated. <i>Second Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>A CHANGE IN THE CABINET. <i>Third +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Bennett (Arnold).</b> CLAYHANGER. +<i>Eleventh Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE CARD. <i>Sixth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>HILDA LESSWAYS. <i>Eighth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>BURIED ALIVE. <i>Third Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>A MAN FROM THE NORTH. <i>Third +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE MATADOR OF THE FIVE TOWNS. +<i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">THE REGENT: A Five Towns Story of +Adventure in London.</span> <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS. <i>Fcap. +8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p>TERESA OF WATLING STREET. <i>Fcap. +8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Benson (E. F.).</b> <span class="smcap">DODO: A Detail of the +Day.</span> <i>Sixteenth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_26" id="ads_Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>Birmingham (George A.).</b> SPANISH +GOLD. <i>Seventeenth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p>THE SEARCH PARTY. <i>Tenth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p>LALAGE'S LOVERS. <i>Third Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE ADVENTURES OF DR. WHITTY. +<i>Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Bowen (Marjorie).</b> I WILL MAINTAIN. +<i>Ninth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>DEFENDER OF THE FAITH. <i>Seventh +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>A KNIGHT OF SPAIN. <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE QUEST OF GLORY. <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>GOD AND THE KING. <i>Fifth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE GOVERNOR OF ENGLAND. <i>Third +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Castle (Agnes and Egerton).</b> THE +GOLDEN BARRIER. <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Chesterton (G. K.).</b> THE FLYING INN. +<i>Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Clifford (Mrs. W. K.).</b> THE GETTING +WELL OF DOROTHY. Illustrated. +<i>Third Edition. Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> + +<p><b>Conrad (Joseph).</b> <span class="smcap">THE SECRET AGENT: +A Simple Tale</span>. <i>Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. +6s.</i></p> + +<p>A SET OF SIX. <i>Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>UNDER WESTERN EYES. <i>Second Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>CHANCE. <i>Eighth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Conyers (Dorothea).</b> SALLY. <i>Fourth +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>SANDY MARRIED. <i>Fifth Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Corelli (Marie).</b> A ROMANCE OF TWO +WORLDS. <i>Thirty-Second Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">VENDETTA; or, The Story of one Forgotten</span>. +<i>Thirty-first Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">THELMA: A Norwegian Princess</span>. +<i>Forty-fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">ARDATH: The Story of a Dead Self</span>. +<i>Twenty-first Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE SOUL OF LILITH. <i>Eighteenth +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">WORMWOOD: A Drama of Paris</span>. +<i>Nineteenth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">BARABBAS: A Dream of the World's +Tragedy</span>. <i>Forty-seventh Edition. Cr. 8vo. +6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE SORROWS OF SATAN. <i>Fifty-eighth +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE MASTER-CHRISTIAN. <i>Fifteenth +Edition. 179th Thousand. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">TEMPORAL POWER: A Study in +Supremacy</span>. <i>Second Edition. 150th +Thousand. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">GOD'S GOOD MAN: A Simple Love +Story</span>. <i>Sixteenth Edition. 154th Thousand. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">HOLY ORDERS: The Tragedy of a +Quiet Life</span>. <i>Second Edition. 120th +Thousand. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE MIGHTY ATOM. <i>Twenty-ninth +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">BOY: A Sketch</span>. <i>Thirteenth Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p>CAMEOS. <i>Fourteenth Edition. Cr. 8vo. +6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE LIFE EVERLASTING. <i>Sixth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">JANE: A Social Incident</span>. <i>Fcap. 8vo. +1s. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Crockett (S. R.).</b> LOCHINVAR. Illustrated. +<i>Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE STANDARD BEARER. <i>Second +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Croker (B. M.).</b> THE OLD CANTONMENT. +<i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>JOHANNA. <i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>A NINE DAYS' WONDER. <i>Fifth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>ANGEL. <i>Fifth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>KATHERINE THE ARROGANT. <i>Seventh +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>BABES IN THE WOOD. <i>Fourth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Danby (Frank).</b> JOSEPH IN JEOPARDY. +<i>Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Doyle (Sir A. Conan).</b> ROUND THE RED +LAMP. <i>Twelfth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p><b>Drake (Maurice).</b> WO<sub>2</sub>. <i>Sixth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Findlater (J. H.).</b> THE GREEN GRAVES +OF BALGOWRIE. <i>Fifth Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE LADDER TO THE STARS. <i>Second +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Findlater (Mary).</b> A NARROW WAY. +<i>Fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE ROSE OF JOY. <i>Third Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>A BLIND BIRD'S NEST. Illustrated. +<i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Fry (B. and C. B.).</b> A MOTHER'S SON. +<i>Fifth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Harraden (Beatrice).</b> IN VARYING +MOODS. <i>Fourteenth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>HILDA STRAFFORD and THE REMITTANCE +MAN. <i>Twelfth Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>INTERPLAY. <i>Fifth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="ads_Page_27" id="ads_Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p><b>Hauptmann (Gerhart).</b> THE FOOL IN +CHRIST: <span class="smcap">Emmanuel Quint</span>. Translated +by <span class="smcap">Thomas Seltzer</span>. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Hichens (Robert).</b> THE PROPHET OF +BERKELEY SQUARE. <i>Second Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>TONGUES OF CONSCIENCE. <i>Third +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>FELIX: <span class="smcap">Three Years in a Life</span>. <i>Tenth +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE WOMAN WITH THE FAN. <i>Eighth +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p>BYEWAYS. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. <i>Twenty-third +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE BLACK SPANIEL. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE CALL OF THE BLOOD. <i>Ninth +Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>BARBARY SHEEP. <i>Second Edition. Cr. +8vo. 3s. 6d.<br /> +Also Fcap. 8vo. 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p>THE DWELLER ON THE THRESHOLD. +<i>Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE WAY OF AMBITION. <i>Fifth Edition. +Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p><b>Hope (Anthony).</b> A CHANGE OF AIR. +<i>Sixth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>A MAN OF MARK. <i>Seventh Edition. Cr. +8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO. +<i>Sixth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> + +<p>PHROSO. Illustrated. <i>Ninth Edition. 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