For a moment hot rage possessed him. Not at Matheson, but at himself. He ought to have guessed before. This was the one possibility he had completely overlooked. Matheson had tricked him by shamming death. He ought not to have let himself be tricked. That was inexcusable.
A moment later he had regained mastery of himself, and a succession of plans flashed past his mental vision, to be considered with lightning speed. The financier held the whip-hand—and the whip must be torn from him ... somehow.
"Sit down, Matheson," said the shipowner calmly, when his antagonist had reached the horseshoe desk.
Neither man offered to shake hands.
Matheson took the seat indicated, and waited for Larssen to begin.
Larssen knew the value of silence, however, and Matheson was forced to open.
"You thought me dead?" he asked.
"I knew you had disappeared for private reasons of your own. I discovered those reasons, and so I respected your privacy," was the calm reply.
"You had the cool intention of using my name in the Hudson Bay prospectus as though I had given you sanction for it."
"You did give me sanction."