“I’ll show you what you can expect from me,” cried Rolandsen, with unnecessary arrogance. And he flung down his telegrams on the desk. Rolandsen’s big nose looked even more aggressive than usual, since he had got thinner in the face.
Mack glanced through the messages. “So you’ve turned inventor?” he said carelessly. But as he read on, he screwed up his eyes intently. “Fish-glue,” said he at last. And then he went through the telegrams once more.
“This looks very promising,” he said, looking up. “Am I to understand you’ve been offered all this money for a fish-glue process of your own?”
“Yes.”
“Then I congratulate you. But surely you must feel it beneath your dignity now to behave rudely towards an old man.”
“You’re right there, of course; yes. But I’m all worn out with anxiety. You said you were going to have me arrested, and nothing’s happened.”
“Well, I may as well tell you the truth; I meant to do so. But other people interfered.”
“Who interfered?”
“H’m! You know what women are. There’s that daughter of mine, Elise. And she said no.”