"I know, I know," said Prois. "I've been through exactly the same thing myself, a few years back, but, thanks to Providence, I got out of it all right."
"Don't blame it on Providence, Warden," put in Nachmann. "It was that telegraph fellow you had to thank for cutting you out."
"It's not a matter for joking," said Prois sharply; and Nachmann withdrew to a corner of the sofa, quite depressed by the seriousness of the situation.
Thor Smith could stand it no longer; this unwonted solemnity was too much for him. He slipped out into the hall, and, sitting down on an old leather trunk, laughed till he cried.
There was a long conference at Old Nick's that evening, and it was one o'clock before he faithfully promised to follow his friends' advice, and thrust out Emilie Rantzau from his house and heart.
How this was to be accomplished must be decided later; meantime the conspirators would take it in turn to dine with Old Nick and spend the rest of the day with him, to guard against any backsliding.
Old Nick agreed to it all, helplessly as a child.
How could they get her to go? The question was argued and discussed, but no one could hit upon any reasonable plan. At last they decided to call in Peter Oiland, who had lately been on terms of intimacy with Old Nick, and see what he could do.
Peter Oiland put on a serious face, and looked doubtfully over at Prois, whose mind was becoming almost unhinged by these everlasting conferences and endless discussions, while the seriousness of the situation forbade any over-hasty steps.
"Well, we can't very well turn her out by force," said Peter Oiland. "The only thing to do is to try and get at the soft side of her: an appeal to the heart, you understand."