“Good! Let it be worst for myself then. I’m not going to be called to account by all and sundry—I won’t stand it. Your father can have me locked up if he likes.”
She turned without a word and left him....
Rolandsen waited for two days—waited for three, but there came none to the organ-blower’s house to arrest him. He was in dire excitement. He had written out his telegrams, ready to send off the moment he was arrested; he would accept the highest bid for his invention, and sell the patent. Meantime, he was not idle; he kept the foreign firms busy with negotiations about this and that, such as purchase of the falls above Mack’s factory, and guarantees of transport facilities. All these matters were left in his hands for the present.
But Mack was not inclined to persecute a fellow-creature just now; on the contrary, his business was going excellently, and as long as things went well, it pleased him far more to be generous beyond need. A new telegram from the agent in Bergen had informed him that the fish was sold to Russia; if Mack had need of money, money was at his disposal. Altogether, Mack was getting on swimmingly again.
When over a week had passed without any change, Rolandsen went down to Mack’s office again. He was worn out with anxiety and uncertainty; he felt he must have a decision.
“I’ve been waiting a week, and you haven’t had me arrested yet,” he said.
“Young man,” said Mack indulgently, “I have been thinking over your affair....”
“Old man,” said Rolandsen violently, “you’ll please to settle it now! You think you can go on for ever and ever and be mightily gracious as long as you please, but I’ll soon put a stop to that. I’ll give myself up to the police.”
“Really, this tone,” said Mack, “it’s not what I should have expected from you, considering....”