There was no answering anger in Larssen. He knew too well the value of keeping cool. He merely put in a word to egg Matheson on to a further outburst.
"That's a chivalrous accusation to make," said he.
"It's true as everything else I've said! Last night, at Thornton Chase, in the drawing-room before dinner, I saw through, the uncurtained window...."
Too late he pulled himself up short. The irrevocable word had been said.
Olive was now implacable. Her voice was steely as she answered:
"I wish to Heaven you were dead!"
Larssen saw his supreme moment. "Why not?" he suggested.
"I don't understand."
"Let him disappear. Let him become John Rivière for good and all."
"But my divorce?"