"Because I found that he was having me impersonated, and using my name illicitly."

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.

Larssen was taken aback at this utterly unexpected onslaught. "That's _his_ version!" he retorted.

"My husband says so--that's sufficient for me!"

"Then I can't argue."

"Do you deny it?"

"Emphatically!"

"You told me Clifford was in Canada, when all the time you knew he was at Arles. Didn't you tell me that?"

"To save his face."

"How?"

"Obviously because I knew he was dallying at Arles and Nimes 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 Nimes when the hotel people began to object. At Nimes, for 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 Clementine.

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."

Olive turned on her husband with another lightning change of mood.

"Is she so very beautiful, this enchantress of yours?" she queried with the velvety softness of a cat.

"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.

"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 a.s.sault of a half-drunken peasant. After that we parted as the merest acquaintances. By pure chance we met again at Nimes. She came to Nimes 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 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!"

His voice rang out in pa.s.sionate sincerity.

"I don't believe it," she replied icily.

"You _must_ believe it! I give you my word of honour!"

"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!"

"Against a blind girl?"

"I don't care a straw whether she's blinded or not!"

And then, for the first time in all that long interview, Matheson blazed into open anger.

"You know human nature?" he cried. "By G.o.d, you know your own, and you measure every other woman by yourself! Behind my back you throw yourself at this d.a.m.ned scoundrel!" He flung out his hand toward Larssen.

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.

"That's a chivalrous accusation to make," said he.

"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...."

Too late he pulled himself up short. The irrevocable word had been said.

Olive was now implacable. Her voice was steely as she answered:

"I wish to Heaven you were dead!"

Larssen saw his supreme moment. "Why not?" he suggested.

"I don't understand."

"Let him disappear. Let him become John Riviere for good and all."

"But my divorce?"

"Give it up--on conditions. You'll have your freedom just the same."

"What conditions?"

"Ask your husband to sign approval of my Hudson Bay prospectus as it stands."

"Doesn't he approve it?"

"No," answered Matheson. "That's why I came back."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It gives Larssen control. It's greatly unfair to the public."

"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 Riviere. Your money, of course, comes to me."

The shipowner, grimly triumphant, said nothing. Matheson, in his blaze of anger, had turned Olive definitely and finally against himself. There was no call for Larssen to add to the command of her words.

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.

He felt will-tired, soul-tired, more tired even than on the night of March 14th. He could fight no more.

He sank down into a chair, and presently he said dully: "Show me the prospectus."

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.

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 pa.s.sed to his chief.

Larssen's face grew white as he read it, but he said nothing beyond: "Wait to witness a signature."