“Sorry I can’t set your mind at rest,” he replied. “I don’t seem to be taking what’s come to me according to your notions. First, you are disappointed because I don’t rant around and tear my hair, and now you accuse me of hysteria!”
“That’s it; that’s what I don’t like!” exclaimed George, “That callousness; it isn’t natural, it isn’t you! You’re putting it on because your trouble has made you defiant, bitter. I know you, Norman, you can’t fool me; I’m only trying to help you, to keep you from doing anything you will have cause to regret.”
“Don’t you worry,” Storm reassured him, the while his face twitched with mirth. George knew him, did he? He couldn’t fool him? He checked an impulse to laugh aloud and added quietly: “I’m not in such a desperate mood as you imagine, old man; I can’t seem to settle down to the new order of things just yet, that’s the trouble, but I’ve no intention of going to the dogs, financially or any other way. I’ll get a grip on myself soon.”
But as the days passed Storm did not find it so easy to control himself. He had gained complete ascendancy over the faint twinges of conscience which assailed him now with less and less frequency, but with the assurance of absolute safety came a dangerous, almost insane tendency to test that safety. Although he had no desire to revisit the scene of Leila’s death, and shrank from any reference to her, the subject of crime in general began to exert an inordinate fascination for him, and with it his pride in his own achievement increased.
He eagerly awaited the news of Du Chainat’s arrival in France, and his occasional glimpses of President Langhorne filled him with renewed complacency. He would most assuredly tell him about getting in ahead on that little deal one of these days!
The temptation became overwhelming one morning after a brief interview with his august superior during which the latter had called him to account, courteously but firmly, for a trifling dereliction. The sting rankled, and at the door he turned, the impulse to retaliate mastering him.
“Oh, Mr. Langhorne, you’ve heard of a man named Du Chainat, I believe?”
The president looked up in surprise at his subordinate’s presumption.
“Du Chainat? Can’t say I have,” he responded shortly.
Storm smiled and raised his eyebrows in polite incredulity.