“Yes, I’ve decided to do so,” said the man, in an undertone, passing his hand over his face.
“And I thought you were doing so well! Didn’t you go to Ostland, and didn’t you take over a hotel there?”
“Yes, they enticed me out there, and now I’ve lost everything there.”
“You ought to have considered—considering costs nothing but a little trouble.”
“But they showed me false books, which showed a greater surplus than there really was. Shipowner Monsen was behind the whole affair, together with the brewer from the mainland, who had taken the hotel over in payment of outstanding debts.”
“But how did big folks like that manage to smell you out?” Holm scratched his head; he didn’t understand the whole affair.
“Oh, they’d heard of the ten thousand, of course, which I’d inherited from my father. They throw their nets out for sums like that, and one day they sent an agent to see me. Ten thousand was just enough for the first instalment, and now they have taken the hotel over again. Out of compassion, they let me keep this trash here.” He suddenly turned his face away and wept; and then his wife came swiftly up to him.
Holm drew Pelle away. “They’d rather be rid of us,” he said quietly; and he continued to discuss the man’s dismal misfortune, while they strolled out along the mole. But Pelle was not listening to him. He had caught sight of a little schooner which was cruising outside, and was every moment growing more restless.
“I believe that’s the Iceland schooner!” he said at last. “So I must go back.”
“Yes, run off,” said Holm, “and many thanks for your guidance, and give my respects to Lasse and Karna.”