‘On what charge?’ I demanded, as soon as I had recovered from my first surprise.
‘On a charge of conspiracy against the Government of Norway,’ was the answer.
‘I arrived in Norway only yesterday,’ I exclaimed.
‘All that you can tell to the judge,’ retorted the police officer.
‘Let me see your warrant,’ I said.
The man produced the paper, while the hotel manager, who had arrived on the scene, looked on astonished, as he well might.
The warrant bore the signature of Judge ——.
‘Take me to the judge instantly, if you will be so good,’ I said.
‘I am going to,’ the officer returned.
He made no attempt to secure me, probably having had his instructions. We walked together to the judge’s house; he appeared to combine the functions of a judge and committing magistrate; and I was conducted into a room evidently used for the examination of prisoners.