"Ring!" said he firmly.
The fight had begun again.
Larssen pressed the bell without a moment's hesitation. His bluff had to be carried through with absolute decisiveness. He could not gauge how far his threat of the divorce court had intimidated Matheson. Beyond that, he was not at all sure that Olive would side with him in the matter. She was unstable, unreliable.
But on the outside no trace of his doubts appeared. He was perfectly cool, entirely master of himself. As he waited for Sylvester to fetch Mrs Matheson, he took out a pocket-knife and began to trim his nails lightly.
Olive's appearance as she entered the throne-room was greatly changed from that of the evening before. The transient effect of the drug had worn off. Her features were now heavy and listless, and there were dark shadows under the eyes.
Both men rose to offer a seat.
"I came along to catch Mr Rivière before he left you," she explained to Larssen, and turned with a set smile towards the visitor.
For a moment or two she stared at Matheson in amazement. Then:
"Why, it's Clifford! What have you been doing to yourself? Why have you changed your appearance? Why are you here? What's the meaning of all this?"
"It's a long story," cut in Larssen, and "there are two versions to it. Which will you hear first, your husband's or mine?"