Swirling Waters

ged his hair differently; put on a new shape of collar. It is curious how the shape of a collar is associated in most minds wit

sessed it against his will. He wanted to sweep out the Hudson Bay scheme, Lars Larssen, Olive, and many other matters from the living-room of his mind. He wanted a couple of months in

lla to scrub and clean. She had a standing arra

seeing the portmanteau and the other signs of departure. She was stone-

e he read through with her, so as to make sure that she thoroughly unders

driving to No. 8, Rue Laffitte. He mounted to the offices of the financier and, in or

ences. Mr Matheson wore a close-cut moustache, while this man was clean-shaven. The commanding look, the hard-set mask of the fi

s half-brother. Will you

nce. He replied: "Mr Matheson has not been at the office to-day, sir. I fancy h

ft no mess

sir. Please

m sorry, sir, but there doesn't se

s intention was to travel amongst the old cities of Provence, and then make his way to the Pyrenees and into Spain. There was no definite plan of journey; he w

at awoke John Rivière from sleep. He murmured "Dijon," and composed himself to a fresh position for rest. Some hours later there was again a stoppage, and ins

the Rhone cantered past him-quaint, treeless hills here scarped and sun-scorched, there covered with low balsam shrubs. Now and again they passed a straggling white village

et the wind of the train blow his hair as it listed; watched greedily the ever-changing landscape.

mself from prison chains and had

in the centre of the town-a place of narrow, tortuous ruelles where every stone cries out a message from the past. In the lanes, going about the

stone tiers, flooded in sunlight, and reconstructed for himself a picture of the days when gladiators do

ng sunlight and know that he was no longer a gladiator in the arena. There was higher work

ered, panting cars to the gateway of the arena; gave a hurried ten minutes to the inter

e climbed from tier to tier of the amphitheatre with firm confident step; stood gazing down on her dream pictures of the scene in the arena; moved on to a fresh vantage-point. She wore a short tailored skirt which ignored the ugly, skin-tight convention of the curre

, yet it disturbed him. He did not want to notice any woman. He had big work to do, and on that he wanted to concentrate all his faculties. He had had no thought of a woman in

and stood out against the sky-line of the sunset-to-be, deep-chest

of the amphitheatre, with no parapet and a sheer drop to the

tching the red ball of the sun sink down into the limitless flats of the Camargue, and the gre

It wanted only some tiny excuse of convention to bridge over the silence between them, but Rivière on his s

descended and made her way to h

are only two hotels worthy of the name in Arles, and the coincidence of meeting again was of the very slightest.

tween them rem

there with a stray lamp socketed to a stone wall. Now he had left the big-thoughted age of the Romans, and was carried forward to the crafty, treacherous Middle Ages. In such an alley as this, bravos had lurked with daggers ready to thrust between the shoulder-blad

ckness. A woman's cry. There were sounds of angry struggle as Ri

Rivière seized him by the collar and shook him off as one shakes a dog from the midst of a fray. The man loosed his grip of the woman, and snarling like a dog, writhed himself free of Rivière. Then

the knife, and Rivière, putting his whole strength into the blow, sent a smashing right-hander straight into the face of his

hts ... there was a hubbub of noise ...

er. He turned to find the w

Rivi

the amphitheatre, drinking in that glorious fiery sunset over

weapon!" Then she noticed the blood dripping from the gas

. He answered as he took it: "It's nothing

were splendid! It makes one fee

ed questioning of the knot of men, took her arm and

r wound until the

eplied coldly. A sudden aloof

s a man who had rescued her from insult at considerable bodily risk, she saw him

momentary lapse from gratitude, she b

n't even know it was you. I heard a woman's cry-that was all. Y

he door of the

ou?" she asked. "I've had prac

orway and asked her abruptly

. When your cut has been dr

ell myself. Let us meet again in the

rridor and went to th

h swathes of linen. His face was white with the l

re badl

ut. But please tell me

ling gaiety. The man was human again-he

nswered. "But I know also that you are on your way to Mo

ly impassive as he waited

her words. "You are to meet a lady for the first time at Monte Carlo. Yet she

on her further, but he remai

ld not question further, she gave him

They took breakfast at the table near to mine in the restaurant car, and I could scarcely help over

look it up?" he c

caught my eye by accident. Naturally

ersonal subject of Arles and its Roman rem

ee you at

so," he

nergy and life full-tide, Rivière could not help following her with his eyes. His

trings of the primi

as the name "Elaine Verney." The name conveyed nothing to him. He threw the handkerc

void her altogether. He rose very early

him to