“Nay, I shouldn't think so. I've heard no more about it since that day.”
It mattered little after all about the Captain. When Falkenberg had taken a deal of wine, I asked him if he knew where Fruen was staying in town. No, but Emma might, perhaps. We get hold of Emma, treat her to wine, talk a lot of nonsense, and work gradually round to the point; at last asking in a delicate way. No, Emma didn't know the address. But Fruen had gone to buy things for Christmas, and she was going with Frøken Elisabeth from the vicarage, so they'd know the address there. What did I want it for, by the way?
Well, it was only about a filigree brooch I had got hold of, and wanted to ask if she'd care to buy it.
“Let's look.”
Luckily I was able to show her the brooch; it was a beautiful piece of old work; I had bought it of one of the maids at Hersæt.
“Fruen wouldn't have it,” said Emma. “I wouldn't have it myself.”
“Not if you got me into the bargain, Emma, what?” And I forced myself to jest again.
Emma goes off. I try drawing out Falkenberg again. Falkenberg was sharp enough at times to understand people.
Did he still sing for Fruen?
Lord, no; that was all over. Falkenberg wished he hadn't taken service here at all; 'twas nothing but trouble and misery about the place.