But Sören was by no means equal to a new explanation, so he was allowed to go.
When Norby and Marit were sitting in the sledge in the twilight ready to drive home, a number of people crowded about them, and gave them quite an ovation. Norby had had his case in such first-rate order that all Wangen’s witnesses had only provoked laughter.
As the old man took up the reins, Wangen chanced to pass. He looked broken down; and as he caught sight of his adversary, he suddenly came nearer and shook his fist at him. “You wait!” he cried, his features distorted with anger. “You scoundrel! You think you’ve won to-day, but wait a little! You shall go to prison, both you and the woman sitting beside you!” He made a sudden dash forward in the snow as if to attack them; but two men caught him by the collar and drew him away, although he resisted strenuously.
“Ah, that brandy!” said an old man, shaking his head after him. “I saw that there consul had him into the hotel and stood treat.”
“The best thing would be for the bailiff to take him in charge at once,” said another, looking sympathetically at Norby.
Norby laughed, cracked his whip and drove off, while they all took off their hats to him. He was tired. There had been so much excitement to-day. But he seemed to be sitting all the time reading aloud that declaration and seeing Herlufsen’s face. He should never forget it as long as he lived.
As they turned into the yard at Norby, Ingeborg came out on to the steps, and said in a frightened voice: “Einar!”
“Einar?” said Marit, who was the first to get out of the sledge. “He’s gone back to town, hasn’t he?”
“They brought him here in a sledge,” said Ingeborg. “I’ve telephoned for the doctor.”