But Lars Larssen trusted no
man beyond the essentials of any situation. His was the brain to plan
and direct. He preferred obedient tools to brilliant, independent
helpers.
At the train-side, Larssen gave a final direction to his subordinate:
"Keep me in touch with every move."
Back at his hotel, Sylvester occupied himself with the development of
some films he had taken on the Channel passage. In his hours of leisure
he was a devoted amateur photographer. At the present time there was
nothing to be done but wait the possible answer to the advertisement.
CHAPTER IX
AT MONTE CARLO
Next day, the wonderful panorama of the Riviera was unfolding itself
before the eyes of the shipowner. The red rocks and the dwarf pines of
the Esterel coves, against which an azure sea lapped in soft caress....
Cannes with its far-flung draperies of white villas.... The proud
solemnity of the Alpes Maritimes thrusting up to the snow-line and
glinting white against the sun.... Fairy bungalows nesting in tropic
gardens and waving welcome with their palm-fronds to the rushing
train.... The Baie des Anges laughing with sky and hills.... The
many-tunnelled cliff-route from Villefranche to Cap D'Ail, where moments
of darkness tease one to longing for the sight of the azure coves dotted
with white-winged yachts and foam-slashed motor-boats.... Europe's
silken, jewelled fringe!
But scenery made no appeal to Lars Larssen. Scenery would not help him
to the attainment of his great ambitions.
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