"You must induce Arvid to come here to dinner on Bank Holiday...."
"It will be about as easy as bringing you three hairs out of the giant's beard. Now do you admit that I was wise when I refused to give him your message of last spring? Haven't I always predicted this?"
"Did you? Well, never mind, hold your tongue and do as you are told! So much for that! There's another thing! I have noticed symptoms of remorse in my wife. She must have met her mother, or one of her sisters. Christmas is a sentimental season. Go to my mother-in-law and stir up a little strife!"
"A very unpleasant commission!"
"Off you go! Next man...."
Levin went. The next visitor was schoolmaster Nyström, who was admitted by a secret door in the background. At his entrance the morning paper was dropped, and the long, narrow book reappeared.
Nyström had gone to pieces. His body was reduced to a third of its former size, and his clothes were extremely shabby. He remained humbly standing at the door, took a much-used pocket-book out of his pocket and waited.
"Ready?" asked Falk, keeping the place in the book with his first finger.
"Ready," replied Nyström, opening the pocket-book.
"No. 26. Lieutenant Kling, 1500 crowns. Paid?"