erney is--was--a professional scene-painter. She was making a
brief tour in Provence to collect material for a Roman drama for which
she was commissioned to design the scenery."

"How old is she?"

"I don't know--what does it matter?"

"I want to know."

"About twenty-five, I should say."

"And what were you doing at Arles?"

Matheson found it very difficult to frame his reasons under this
remorseless cross-examination. He felt as though he were in the
witness-box at a divorce trial, replying to hostile counsel.

"When I left Paris," he answered, "it was to take a quiet holiday for a
couple of months before settling down to my new work."

"What new work?"

"I'll explain in detail later. Scientific research, in brief."

Larssen scraped his chair scornfully. He would not comment with words at
the present juncture. Matheson was convicting himself out of his own
mouth--the revelation was unfolding excellently.

"You went to Arles for research?" pursued Olive.

"No; for a holiday."

"A holiday from what--from whom?"

"From financial matters."

"Why did you take the name of John Riviere?"

"Because I intended to take that name permanently."

Olive was startled. "You meant to leave me!" she exclaimed.

"I meant to disappear and give you your freedom and the greater part of
my property," answered Matheson steadily.

"How freedom?"

"On the night of March 14th, the night I said good-bye to you at the
Gare de Lyon, I made a sudden decision to take up my brother's work and
live his life. He has been dead a couple of years. I happened to be
attacked by a couple of _apaches_, and that gave me the opportunity. I
contrived evidence of a violent death, and then cut loose entirely from
the name of Clifford Matheson. You would be given leave by the courts to
presume death, on the evidence of my coat and stick left by the
river-bank at Neuilly. You would come into my money and property, and
you would be free to marry again if you chose."

Olive had become very thoughtful. Her chin was buried in her hand. When
she spoke again after a few moments' pause, it was in a strangely
altered tone.

"Why did you come back?" she said.

"Because Larssen was using my name in a way I won't countenance. I was
forced to return in order to put a stop to it."

"Was that the only reason that made you return?"

"Yes, that was it."

"You came back because Mr Larssen called you back?"

"Because I found that he was having me i