The porter referred to a slate by his side.
"Your pardon, lady, I am wrong. Ze number gifen me before is 392."
Olive opened her purse, took out a gold piece, and passed it into his hand.
"Alter it to 352," she said.
The porter hesitated, looked at the 20-mark piece, looked around the hall to see if anyone were observing him, and then said in a very low voice: "Very goot. Vat name shall I say?"
"Mrs Matheson." She then left for the Quisisana.
And that was why Rivière never received Elaine's message, and why he went first to call on his wife.
Olive received him in her private sitting-room. She was horribly uncertain what line of action she ought to take, now that Elaine had so completely reversed the situation. Her nerves, weakened by the almost continuous drugging of the last few months, were all a-quiver. The threat of the "suitable allowance" drove her to frenzy. She wanted somebody to vent her rage upon, and there was nobody to serve the purpose. For a moment she regretted she had not brought her maid with her to Wiesbaden.
Her attitude must depend on Clifford's attitude. But, whatever line of action was to be taken, one point seemed clear. She must be calm with Clifford—forgiving. She must play for the quixotic side of his nature. She had better be even cordial.
Accordingly she gave him a wifely kiss when he entered.