“This won’t do,” he said in a low tone. “Damn it, what a figure you cut! You are completely impossible. If you will take your wife and go away to South America I will find the money.”
Tord came face to face with his brother:
“South America? Because you have a badge on your cap? By your snobbish order? You just get aboard. Access to this island is forbidden by Tord Selamb!”
Tord planted the muzzle of his rifle in Stellan’s stomach and forced him, with his fingers on the trigger, to retire on board. After which he took his curved knife and cut the moorings.
“Back,” he commanded again, and the man at the wheel obeyed.
The big red mahogany boat glided quickly out of the harbour.
Dagmar still clung to the mast and stared shivering at the lonely grey man out on the pier:
“The key of the larder lies under my pillow,” she called. And there was suddenly a tremulous note of pity in her voice at the sight of his terrible loneliness.
Then she crept down in the machine room.
They were already in the open. The gale had increased and the motor boat rolled and pitched in the high seas in Järnö bay. Laura got out some dry things for Dagmar. She looked up with a grimace at Stellan: