The pass was drawn up for the two brothers, Frederick and Henry Zoller, accompanied by their servant, with the intention of travelling through Holland.
The king placed his signature under this important document.
“Now, it is only necessary to put the state seal under it, and we shall be free; but how will we get a light?”
“I cannot tell who is a rascal, you may be one for aught I know.”
Balby uttered an angry exclamation and stepped nearer to the daring postmaster, while his servant shook his fist threateningly at Niclas.
The king dispelled their anger with a single glance.
“Sir,” he said to Niclas, “God made my face, and it is not my fault if it does not please you, but concerning our passports, they are lying well preserved in my carpet-bag. I should think that would suffice you.”
“No, that does not suffice me,” screamed Niclas. “Show me your passports if I am to believe that you are not vagabonds.”
“You dare to call us vagabonds?” cried the king, whose patience now also appeared exhausted, and whose clear brow was slightly clouded.
“The police consider everyone criminal until he has proved he is not so,” said Niclas, emphatically.