"Why, you know I told you how I'd got all that worldly out of Andrine, when she joined the Salvation Army?"
"Well, has she come to her senses again?"
"Getting on that way, anyhow. It was just as I thought. When she got up this morning she began sort of throwing out hints that I'd better let her have the bank-book again after all."
"Aha, that looks like coming round."
"Well, you can guess I'd been expecting something of the sort, and so I started in a little speculation while there was time."
"Not trying steamboats, I hope?"
"No, no. But I got wind of a good thing in another way altogether. You know Johnsen I told you about?"
"Bramsen, don't tell me you've got mixed up in any sort of deal with that drunken old fool?"
"Drunk? He's as right as can be now. Turned teetotal, and made some money too. Any amount. Well, last week he came along to me and said he and Baron Olsen had gone shares and bought up a boat that was lying at Strandvik—Erik was the name. They'd got her dirt cheap, but they'd let me come in for a third share, and be managing owner, with Johnsen as skipper. Well, I agreed. The Erik went off last week, and now here comes a telegram from some place called Havre; but it's a queer sort of message. I can't make head or tail of it myself. Here, see what it says: 'Drink dock yesterday.—Johnsen.' Drunk in dock, if you ask me—and him a teetot'lar and all!"
Holm took the telegram and read it over, but could make nothing of it. "Drink dock yesterday" was all it said.