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Updated: May 24, 2025
In the solitude of the ruined villa, Matheson had been pursuing his scientific research at such times as he could snatch from his financial business. He had been leading a "double life" from a motive far different to the double life of other married men. There was no woman in the case. There was no secret scheme of money-making. There was no solitary pandering to the senses with drink or drugs.
They were from Helmsdale and from the parish of Kildonan and the noble founder afterwards conferred this name on their new parish on the banks of the Red River. The names of Matheson, Bannerman, Sutherland, Polson, Gunn and the like show the sturdy character of this band whose descendents are taking their full part in the affairs of the Province of Manitoba of to-day.
For that text is Everybody's Text! A pair of evangelists Weaver and Matheson! A pair of missionaries Arnot and Young! I have one other pair of witnesses waiting to testify that this text is Everybody's Text. Martin Luther and Lord Cairns have very little in common. One was German; the other was English. One was born in the fifteenth century; the other in the nineteenth.
Larssen had spoken part truth when he told Olive over the tea-table that he had the glimmering of a plan in his mind. But its object was by no means what he had led her to believe. It was a scheme of an audacity in keeping with his previous impersonations of the "dead" Clifford Matheson, and its single objective was the attainment of his personal ambitions.
His own interest in the venture was enough to make him rich, and he was to be general superintendent of the new company, with Matheson as his manager of the mines. All that was needed now was to complete the details of the transfer of the properties, perfect his organization, and set to work.
Sir Francis tugged at his watch impatiently. "He'll miss this train for certain!" "No; there he is!" Matheson was striding rapidly through the press of people on the platform. He quickly caught sight of his wife and father-in-law, and came up with a gesture of apology. "Sorry I'm so late. Very sorry, too, I shan't be able to travel with you to-night."
"Don't sign!" cried Olive. "He must sign!" Larssen rushed back to his desk and scribbled on a sheet of paper: "Until May 3rd, I fix up nothing with the underwriters." He scrawled his signature under it, and without further word hurried from the throne-room. Matheson and his wife were left alone.
Matheson can see for himself," said her son, using his most correct English, "the impropriety of my talking with an employer in this way." "Nonsense, McNish," said the minister briskly. "You know me quite well and we both know Maitland. It is just sheer nonsense to say that you cannot talk with us. Everyone in town is talking.
At the side of Larssen's forehead, under the temple, a tiny vein throbbed and jerked. That was the only outward sign of the feelings of murder which lay in his heart. "You have your nerve!" he commented. "I'm offering you easy terms." "Offer me terms!" "Easy terms," repeated Matheson. "I could, if I chose, step from here to my lawyers' and have you indicted for conspiracy.
There was a short interval of silence; then: "You probably retain no very clear impression of the shadow which you saw," said Dr. Matheson, with great deliberation. "At the time perhaps you had less occasion particularly to study it. But are you satisfied that it was really caused by someone moving behind the curtain?" I considered his question for a few moments. "I am not," I confessed.
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