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 passed to his chief.

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

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.

Olive remained seated, her eyes fixed remorselessly on her husband.

Presently Matheson reached for a pen. "What do you want on it?" he
asked.

"Simply 'O.K., Clifford Matheson,'" answered the shipowner without
turning round. "No date."

Matheson wrote across the printed document the formal letters "O.K.,"
and signed below.

Sylvester witnessed the signature, and passed the document to his
chief.

CHAPTER XXI

THE BOLTED DOOR

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:

"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!"

Sylvester sped away to execute his orders.

Larssen looked up at the portrait of his little boy, and the cablegra