As Egholm came up to the station, he caught sight of young Karlsen. He
was pale, and there was a cut on the bridge of his nose, but his temper
was of the best.
“Aha!” he said artfully, nudging Egholm with his elbow. “Aha!” And he
grinned.
That nudge, that grin, and that “Aha!” said much. They seemed to imply
that Karlsen and Egholm had a pleasant--oh, a delightful little secret
between them.
“A nice way you treated me last night,” said Egholm. He would have
spoken more forcibly, a great deal more forcibly, but his mind was
distracted by the thoughts of his journey. He had not yet made his
choice of where to go. And the world was wide. “I hadn’t expected that
of you--after what you said. You know.”
“Let not the sun go down upon thy wrath. And--er--bless them that curse
you, and--er--put up thy sword into its sheath, for.... Well, anyhow.
You see, the old man wouldn’t hear of it. It was no earthly good. He
said he’d resign first. Put yourself in my place, my dear fellow. And
then I began to be doubtful myself, too, afterwards, about it all.
Come and have a drink. You look as if you were going off somewhere.
What’s on now?”
“Er--I’m going away,” said Egholm nervously. “Going to open a
photographic studio.”
“Well, I never,” said Karlsen, with ungrudging wonder. “And where’s it
going to be? You never said a word about that before.”
“I had a studio once in Copenhagen--Østergade, a splendid position. And
customers accordingly. Made any amount of money. This time I’m going to
try--er--Knarreby. Quite a nice little place, don’t you think?”
(There! Now it was said.)
“Knarreby? Oh yes, first-rate.”
They went into the waiting-room. Egholm carried the camera himself,
Sivert following behind him with the handbag.
“_Skaal_,[2] Egholm, and here’s to burying the hatchet. Friends again
now, aren’t we? We were both a bit upset last night, and didn’t know
quite what we were doing. Turn the other cheek, what?”
[2] “Here’s luck.” The word is widely used when drinking, as a
salutation; the precise equivalent in English would vary with the
company and the occasion.
“I was going to, only you were holding me behind.”
“Ha ha! That’s good. Taking it literally, as you might say. That’s very
good. _Skaal!_ Have another of these. Yes; go on. I’m sure you can.”
Egholm joined in the laugh at his own jest. Now that he had finally
decided, all was brightness and freedom ahead. Away, away, like a bird
that wakes to find its cage suddenly open. He could feel no anger
against anyone now.
“Have a cigar,” said Karlsen. There was no end to his amiability to-day.
“I don’t smoke.”
“Don’t you, though? I say, Egholm, I wonder if you’d be above doing me
a little favour?” Karlsen bit off the end of his cigar.
“Certainly, certainly.” Egholm dived willingly into his pocket and
pulled out a box of matches.
“Thanks--as a matter of fact, it wasn’t matches so much I was thinking
of. Another little matter....” The match flared and flared.
Egholm happened to glance at the other’s face. The bright black eyes,
with a fan of wrinkles out to the side, reminded him of fluttering
cockchafers. Why, the man was nervous himself! His hand was shaking.
And suddenly he brought the match too close to his beard....
“Of all the cursed.... H’m. Well, never mind.--Look here, Egholm, you
couldn’t manage to fix up another youngster at your place--a baby?
You’ve quite a crowd already; it wouldn’t be noticed. It’s not mine--ha
ha! No; it’s Meilby’s. I daresay he’s told you.... Silly thing to
do--playing with fire....”
“But why should I....”
“Ah, that’s just where it comes in. In the first place, there’s no
one I’d sooner trust with a little angel like that, than you, my dear
friends. And, in the second place, it’ll be worth something to whoever
takes it, and I’d like you to have the money. It’ll be paid for, and
well paid for. See what I mean?”
Egholm was alert in an instant. His heart was bubbling over with
gratified malice. He put on a thoughtful expression as he took his
ticket.
“Was it Meilby that put you on to me?”
“Well, yes and no. He comes to the meetings, you know, so I’d like to
help him if I can. I can’t take the kid myself, you understand. The
mother’s in a dairy all day.”
“But about the money,” said Egholm, moving towards the train. “What’s
it worth?”
“Oh, any amount,” said the Evangelist. In his delight at finding Egholm
so amenable to his plan, he forgot to restrain his play of feature.
“Hundred and fifty _kroner_ at the least. Let him pay, the beggar, it’s
his own fault, and I’ll give him a talking-to. I went up to his place
just now, by the way, but he wasn’t in.”
Egholm was in his seat. The train was ready to start.
“I’ll tell you where he is,” said Egholm, with a smile. “He’s on his
way to America by now. I said good-bye to him last night.”
Young Karlsen was not used to being made a fool of. He collapsed as
the train moved off; he waved a clenched fist furiously after it, and
shouted. Then, turning to go, he discovered Sivert.
“What are you grinning at, you young devil?”
“He’s forgotten his bag,” said Sivert, shaking his white mop of hair
with a satisfied smile.
But Karlsen found poor comfort in that.