house--good. In any case shadow him to-night wherever he goes."




CHAPTER III

SHADOWED


Matheson, alone in his office, thought deeply for a long while, pacing
to and fro, grappling with a life-decision. To and fro, from door to
windows, from windows to door, he paced, until the narrow confines of
the office thrust at him subconsciously and drove him to the open
streets.

At his desk he made out a cheque in favour of Lars Larssen to the amount
of twenty thousand pounds, enclosed it with a brief note in an addressed
envelope, and put it away in a drawer. It was shortly after eleven when
he took up his hat, fur-lined coat and heavy gold-mounted stick, clicked
out the lights, and made his way down to the Rue Laffitte.

At the corner of the Rue Laffitte he passed a young man lounging in the
shadows, who presently turned and followed him at a sober distance.
Matheson made up towards the heights of Montmartre, crowned by the white
Basilique of the Sacred Heart. The great church stood out in cold white
beauty--serene and pure--above the feverish glitter of Paris. Up there a
man might attune himself to the message of the stars--might weigh duty
against duty in the balance of the infinite.