"Oscar? Your brother?"
"Yes, sir--and the money was paid to him in Paris."
"What?" cried the Governor, crossing the floor. "You tell me that Oscar--your brother Oscar--has committed a forgery? Oh, that's what you mean--don't deny it--you mean that my son is a forger?"
Magnus made no answer, and after a moment the painful smile about the Governor's face broke into a more painful laugh. "But why do I trouble myself with such a trumpery story? I see how it is, Magnus--strong drink is a strong tongue--you have been drinking."
"I have been drinking, sir--I was ill and I couldn't help it--but I'm sober now, and what I tell you is God's truth."
Magnus rose as he said this and father and son stood face to face--the little Governor in his uniform with flushed cheeks and pigeon-breast distended, and Magnus big, black, clumsy, unkempt, and with lines of suffering in his face.
"And this document, you tell me, is at present in Iceland?"
"It is, sir--two officers of the law brought it here from Copenhagen."
"Officers of the law, you say?"
"The bank found reasons to suspect the signatures, so they sent across to verify them."