"God bless my soul! And when are they coming back?"
"They are never coming back."
"Never?"
"I have taken care that they never can."
"Dear me! dear me! What does it all mean?"
"It means that the despatch is on its way from Reykjavik, and will be here to-day. Ha! ha! ha!"
"To-day? God save us! And do you intend—no, it cannot be—and yet—do you intend to die instead of him?"
"Well, and what of that? It's nothing to you, is it? And as for myself, there are old scores against me, and if death had not come to me soon, I should have gone to it."
"I'll not stand by and witness it."
"You will, you shall, you must. And listen—here is a letter. It is for him. Address it to her by the first ship to the Shetlands. The Thora, Shetlands—that will do. And now bring me some more of your brenni-vin, you good old soul, for I am going to take a sleep at last—a long sleep—a long, long sleep at last."