"Silence!" said his father sternly. "The missing bank-notes were some of them found in your coat pocket. You had no such money when you left home; you will be called on to account for its being there."
Frans stared speechlessly at his father, and then looked at his companion.
"He's been free with money since we were out," said Knut; "but I supposed such high-fliers had always no end of cash on hand, and never suspected anything more than the boys' frolic we started out for when we found it had gone contrary for us at school."
"Papa!" began Frans eagerly.
At the moment an officer came in to say, "There is an old man outside—old Pelle everybody calls him—who says he must see the boys; that it is most important for them." The magistrate and Pelle and several other solemn-looking individuals entered the room.
Pelle looked first at Frans and then at his companion. The strange gleam came again into his eyes as he bowed to all present and asked to be allowed to tell his story. Permission to speak was authoritatively given him, and he began,—
"About four hours ago I was standing by the bay, up at Trolleudden, when I saw that young fellow," pointing at Knut, "come up to a chap who had a sail-boat there to let to the summer villa people. The boy wanted a boat for a trip down the bay. He was willing to pay handsomely, he said, and he did, with a bank-note, though he didn't look as if he were much used to handling that sort of thing. I somehow thought there must be something wrong about it. Then I went up to the little inn to get a glass of milk and a bit of bread. When I came into the sitting-room, there was a boy there, who sat with his arms on the table, and his head on his hands, with his hat tipped down so over his eyes that I couldn't see his face. He was dressed like a workman, with a leather apron on, and a coarse shirt, and an old overcoat outside, though it was so warm I was glad to go in my flannel sleeves. There was something queer about the boy. I could see his hands. They were not very clean, to be sure, but they didn't look as if they had seen much real work. I soon got through thinking about the boy, who seemed to be asleep. I finished my bread and milk, and took out my book to read while I rested, and quite forgot where I was. Suddenly I heard somebody steal into the room, tiptoe up, and stand behind me. I kept quite still, but on the watch, for I felt all was not right. As I looked into my spectacles I saw who it was that was so near me. Often in church I see the person who is standing behind me. I don't know how it is, but I do, as if my spectacles were a looking-glass. I didn't like the sly, bad face right before my eyes. I could not help seeing it between me and the book, and I knew it was the lad who had hired the boat. In a second an arm was stretched forward towards the boy who was sitting very near me, the other side of the corner of the table, and a little yellow parcel was tucked into the pocket of his great-coat. I had nothing to say in the matter, and did not let on that I noticed it. It might be some young folks' frolic. I am not used to meddle in other people's business, but I generally know what goes on round me. The face went out of my spectacles, and the door shut quietly. I finished my reading and went out. Those boys I have not seen again to know them till I meet the very same here."
"What were you reading?" asked the magistrate sternly.
"This book," said old Pelle, taking out his worn paper-covered "Thomas à Kempis," and handing it to the gentleman, who returned it without a word, but ordered the wet clothes of the boys to be brought in. "I don't know those things, surely," said Pelle, pointing to the larger suit, "but should say that might be the leather apron the younger boy had on. I couldn't be sure either of the coat, but the striped shirt is just like the wrist-band that showed as the boy had his arms on the table, as he was asleep or pretended to be."
"The roll of bank-notes was found in that coat, wrapped up in a bit of yellow paper," said the magistrate. "You may sit down, Pelle."