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."

"Then what are the facts?" challenged Matheson.

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.

"Matheson," said the shipowner, "the facts of your case don't make a
very edifying story. If 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?"

"I'm listening."

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.

"You registered together at the Hotel du Forum at Arles, taking the
names of John Riviere 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."

"We!"

"Yes, _we_. 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?"

"Get on."

"Then you moved to Nimes, staying for shame's sake at different houses.
Hers was the Hotel de Provence, and yours was the Villa Clementine. You
went