It was true that Russia had recalled her decree against rye exportations. The favourable prospects had not proved disappointing, and this, in connection with large amounts of grain stored in the elevators from previous years, had made further restrictions superfluous. The famine ghost had been laid; Russian and Finnish harbours were once more open. Such was the purport of the telegraphic message.
Ole sat there silent. This was an awful blow! His brain was awhirl with thoughts: could the telegram be a hoax, a piece of speculative trickery, a bribed betrayal? He glanced at the signature; no, it was out of the question to suspect this reliable agent. But had anything like that ever happened before? A world-power had fooled itself and taken self-destructive measures for no apparent reason! It was even worse than in fifty-nine when a similar edict had been lifted and had caused the world-markets wreck and ruin. But there had been war then.
The clock on the wall ticked and ticked in the unbroken silence.
Finally Ole asked: "Are you sure the wire is authentic?"
"It is authentic enough, I fancy," said Tidemand. "My agent wired me twice yesterday to sell, and I sold what I could, sold even below the day's quotations; but what did that amount to? I lost heavily yesterday, I tell you."
"Well, don't do anything hastily now; let us consider this carefully. But why did you not come to me yesterday? I had a right to expect that from you."
"I ought hardly to have brought you such a piece of news this evening, even, but—"
"Once and for all," Ole interrupted him, "understand that I will help you all I possibly can. With everything I have, you understand. And that is not so very little, either."
Pause.
"I thank you, Ole—for everything. I knew I shouldn't go to you in vain. You could help me a good deal if you would take over some of my obligations—I mean those that are non-speculative, of course."