'No. They are down at the hotel. But Mr Jorgensen has told them to stand by to make other arrests than the man known at the moment as Schreuder.'
Lovaas hesitated. Then abruptly he moved away from the fire. 'Kom, Halvorsen. Vi ma ga.'
Dahler caught at his arm with his sound hand. The withered claw remained held over the red-hot top of the stove. 'A moment, Kaptein Lovaas,' he said. 'You go too fast. Jorgensen has said nothing to the police — not yet.' Dahler's small, black eyes were watching the whaler's face.
'What are you suggesting?' Lovaas asked. His voice sounded nervous — ill-at-ease.
'I am suggesting nothing,' Dahler replied slowly. 'If you had caught Farnell — then it would be different. Then you would be safe. You were always too hasty, you know Kaptein. You must always rush things. You should have kept within the law. Or if you wished to go outside it — then you should do so with success, eh? If you had obtained what Mr Jorgensen, and Mr Gansert here, want from Farnell — then you would be justified. Without that — ' He hesitated. Then he said quietly, 'But it is a long way from here to the hotel, where the police are. And there is a snowstorm.' He paused significantly, watching Lovaas like a cat.
Was he trying to get Lovaas to kill Jorgensen? What was it that drove the man so? Hatred of Jorgensen? Desire to prove his innocence? What made him follow Farnell, planning his destruction, yet seeking his help as he had sought it during the up here in the mountains? I remembered what Sunde had said: 'Dahler — I reckon he's mad.' That was the only explanation. What he had suffered during the war had effected the balance of his mind. Maybe he had sold secrets to the enemy. But he didn't believe he had. He had thought himself into the desperate certainty that his innocence could be proved and that Farnell could do it. And he, like Farnell, was prepared to do anything to gain his own ends. Jorgensen was to him a symbol of something he hated and wished to fight — Jorgensen, who had been successful, who had taken the long view. He tried to kill Jorgensen out there in the North Sea during the storm. Of that I was certain now. And he was playing Lovaas off against Jorgensen, hoping against hope that Jorgensen would get hurt in the clash. Yes, he was mad.
He suddenly turned towards me. 'So you did not catch up with your friend Farnell, eh? And where is he now, I wonder?'
'Half-way to Finse, I should think,' I answered.
He nodded. 'Perhaps.' He glanced at his watch. 'It is just after eleven. The train from Oslo comes through Finse at twelve-thirty. Allow that it is half an hour late — our State Railways are always late. He has two hours. I think perhaps he will make it.' He glanced up at Lovaas who had started to move towards his rucksack. 'And the police will be on that train, Kaptein Lovaas.'
Lovaas halted. Then he came slowly back towards Dahler. I could see by his face that he wanted to strangle the cripple. And yet something stopped him. There was something about Dahler's eyes that was cold and dead, yet strangely excited. The net is drawing round him, you see,' he said with a little laugh. 'All around you, eh?'