"
"Then what are the facts?" challenged Matheson.
Lars Larssen took a deep breath before he leaned forward across the
horseshoe desk to answer. At the same time he moved a hidden lever under
the desk. This was a device allowing any conversation of his to be heard
telephonically in the adjoining room where his private secretary worked.
It was useful occasionally when he needed an unseen listener to a
business interview of his; and now he particularly wanted Sylvester to
hear what he and Matheson were saying to one another. It would give
Sylvester his cue if he were to be called in at any point.
"Matheson," said the shipowner, "the facts of your case don't make a
very edifying story. If you're sure you want to hear them as you'd hear
them in a court of law, I'll spare another five minutes to tell you.
You're quite certain you'd like to hear the outside view of your actions
this past three weeks?"
"I'm listening."
With brutal directness Larssen proceeded: "On the night of March 14th,
you decided you were tired of your wife. Thought you'd like a change of
bedfellow. You left your coat and stick about a quarter-mile down the
left bank of the Seine from Neuilly bridge, so that people would think
you dead. You cut a knife-slit in the ribs of your coat to make a neater
story of it. Then, as I guessed you would, you went honeymooning with
the other woman. Away to the sunny South. I had you followed.
"You registered together at the Hotel du Forum at Arles, taking the
names of John Riviere and Elaine Verney.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152