Part 21 (1/2)

It was clear to Riviere 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 _Europe Chronicle_ though a sensational paper, would not print self-invented fiction on its financial page.

”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.”

”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?”

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?”

”I have everything ... but my sight.”

”And that, Dr Hegelmann will give you within the month!” he affirmed.

In Paris early the next morning, Riviere sought out the financial editor of the _Europe Chronicle_. At a face-to-face interview, Riviere's personality impressed, and the newspaper man showed himself quite willing to prove the _bona fides_ of his journal.

”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 _canard_ offhand.”

There followed Riviere into the next room a tubby rosy-faced little man, brisk and smiling. ”Well, 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 _Chronicle_. What's the particular text you're heaving bricks at?”

Jimmy Martin's infectious good-humour brought an answering smile from Riviere. ”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.”

”I have it straight from the stable--from Lars Larssen.”

Riviere's face did not move a muscle--he was still smiling pleasantly.

”Larssen and I are old pals,” continued Martin briskly. ”So when he was pa.s.sing 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.”

”Thanks--that's just what I wanted to know.”

”You withdraw the bricks?”

”Unreservedly.... By the way, do you know where my brother is at the moment?”

”Vague idea he's in Canada. Don't know where I get it from. Those sort of things are floating in the air.”

”Where is Larssen?”

”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.”

When Riviere 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.