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Then to the journalist: "We've got to smash this you and I." From the wallet in his breast-pocket Matheson took out Larssen's two agreements blurred with sea-water, but now dried and fit for his purpose. He handed the agreements to Martin, who whistled surprise as he read them. "He's underwritten it himself," was the latter's comment. "Yes.
"Yes, indeed, sir. That's well known." "Well, my next order is this: take a fortnight's holiday and get strong again.... Do you fish?" "I'd like to." "I'll put you in the way of some splendid fishing. Tarpon! After that you'll return to England with me. Sound good to you?" "You're too generous, sir!" answered the young fellow with deep feeling. He was Larssen's man once again.
He aimed to be controlling owner of the world's carrying trade; to hold decision on peace and war between nation and nation because of that control of the vital food supply. To be Emperor of the Seven Seas. He had one child only his boy Olaf, now aged twelve, at school in the States. Olaf was to hold the seat of power after him and perpetuate his dynasty. That was Larssen's life-dream.
The idea is fatuous." "Won't you believe me when I say that I'm genuinely anxious to do the right thing by you, and clear up the tangle I've made of your life and mine? I'm sorry for what I said in Larssen's presence a little while ago. I was angry and carried beyond myself." "No apology can wipe out that sort of thing." "I'll do my best to make amends.... You're not looking at all well.
He made for New York, and went straight to the shipowner's offices. These were situated at the very beginning of Broadway, overlooking Battery Park, on the tip of the tongue of Manhattan Island. Inside, they were very much on the same lines of the London offices in fact, the latter were modelled on them. Above the dome of the building stretched the antennæ of Larssen's wireless.
Further than that, it lay entirely outside Lars Larssen's plane of thought that a man who had fought his way up to worldly success from a clerk's stool in a Montreal broker's office, who had made himself a power in the world of London and Paris finance, could voluntarily give up money and power and bury himself in obscurity.
He had been beaten down to his knees by Larssen and Olive in the shipowner's office because he had had Elaine to protect. To save her from the mire of the divorce court he had had to give in and sign at Larssen's dictation. Now she was determined to release him for free action.
He realised that she ardently desired a child of her own that was plain to read from her attitude towards Larssen's son. But in the past she had always been impatient with children, and he questioned whether her present feeling was more than transitory. The morning of May 1st brought grey sky, grey waters, and a tumbling sea.
He had first to see Olive safely in hospital. It was all that he could do for her. Then he returned to the journalist. "I suppose that you know that the other two boats were picked up early this morning?" said Martin. "Good! and Larssen's little boy?" "Quite sound. I made a special interview with him.... By the way, you know that the Hudson Bay flotation is going strong on the wing?"
"Yes; but it's more than a fortnight since that scene in Larssen's office. I've had time to reflect over things. I was too hasty in what I said then. You must remember that you sprang a surprise on me when you returned in that secret way, and naturally I was put out.
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