Frederik came in, and went to his place at the desk. He had heard the last words, and saw his father now, for once, in a state of excitement.
Rolandsen thrust his hand into his pocket, where the telegrams lay, and said, “Won’t you accept the money, then?”
“No,” said Mack. “You can hand it over to the authorities.”
Rolandsen stood there still. Nothing of a lion now; properly speaking, he had made a big mistake, and might be put in prison. Well and good! And when Mack looked at him inquiringly, as if to ask what he might be standing there for, he answered, “I’m waiting to be locked up.”
“Here?” Mack looked at him in astonishment. “No, you can go along home and get ready.”
“Thanks. I’ve some telegrams to send off.”
Mack turned gentler all at once. After all, he was not a savage. “I’ll give you to-day and to-morrow to get ready,” he said.
Rolandsen bowed, and went out.
Elise was still standing outside; he passed by her this time without a sign. What was lost was lost; there was no helping it now.