"Yes.... Cherchez la femme."
"Why do you say that?"
"This note was written by a woman."
"It's a very decided hand for a woman."
"Yes it is. I'd stake big on that. Look at the long crossings to the t's. Look at the way the date is written. Look at the way words run into one another."
Olive examined the letter carefully, and laughed. "You're right," said she. "He's travelling with some woman. Those men who are supposed to be wrapped up in their scientific experiments—you can't trust them far!"
Then she added with a curious touch of conscious virtue: "But he'd no right to get that woman to send a letter to me."
Larssen had noted the printed heading to the letter, "Hotel du Forum, Arles," and he wired at once to Morris Sylvester to proceed to Arles and hunt out further details. It seemed an unnecessary precaution, but the shipowner never neglected the tiniest detail when he had a big scheme to engineer.
His relief at the letter proved short-lived. Late that night came a message from Sylvester:—
"Rivière not at Arles and not down with fever. Am following up further clues. Will wire again in the morning."