“Ha ha, yes, what was behind it all! Metha Madsen was behind it all—Metha and her brat. Karlsen’s it was, and they’ve been trying to make out it was mine.”
“Terrible, terrible!”
“No; it’s not. I’m going away, and I’ll be out of it all. The old Angel in his little shop, he fixed it all up, for her to say it was me. Wouldn’t have done for his dear little son, you know, and an Evangelist into the bargain. Kid was born at ten o’clock, and it wasn’t stillborn either.”
“But you could declare on oath....”
“Well, you know, that’s a ticklish business. On oath.... No; I did the only thing there was to be done—came along every evening to the meetings, and glared at them, and threatened to kick up a scandal. But it’s not so easy to make a speech in a crowd like that. Anyhow, I managed it all right this time, didn’t I?”
“Splendidly. And now—you’re going away?”
“To-morrow. First thing to-morrow morning,” whispered Meilby hoarsely. “Come up with me now. I shan’t go to bed to-night.”
“Why, it’s all empty!” said Egholm dismally, looking round the place. There was a travelling trunk in the middle of the studio floor, and that was all.
“Every rag and stick cleared out,” said Meilby triumphantly.
“But you promised me—you promised me for certain....”