Part 9 (1/2)
”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.”
She waited for him to question her further, but he remained silent, deep in thought.
More than a little piqued that he would not question further, she gave him abruptly the solution of the riddle.
”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.”
”But why did you look it up?” he challenged abruptly.
She parried the question. ”The name caught my eye by accident. Naturally I was interested by the coincidence.”
Riviere turned the conversation to the impersonal subject of Arles and its Roman remains, and soon after they said good-night.
”Shall I see you at breakfast?”
”I hope so,” he answered.
As she moved out of the room, a splendidly graceful figure radiating health and energy and life full-tide, Riviere could not help following her with his eyes. His innermost being thrilled despite himself to the magic of her splendid womanhood.
It plucked at the strings of the primitive man within him.
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.
With the morning came a resolution to avoid her altogether. He rose very early and took the first train out of Arles.
It took him to Nimes.
CHAPTER VIII
WHO AND WHERE IS RIVIeRE?
”Who is Riviere?”
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 s.h.i.+powner got a telephone call through to Olive at the Hotel des Hesperides.
”This is Mr Larssen speaking. Are you Mrs Matheson?”
”Yes. Good morning.”
”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.”
”So had I.”
”I suppose he explained matters to you?”
”No, he referred me to you for explanations. Just like Clifford!... What about Riviere--is he coming to Monte?”
Lars Larssen had to tread warily here. So he answered: ”I didn't quite catch that name.”