Part 28 (1/2)
It is getting darker.
At last there is nothing to be seen on the way but a shapeless ma.s.s of snow struggling with bowed head against the storm, wading deep in the loose drifts, wading seemingly at haphazard--and trailing after it an indefinable bundle of white--dead white. Behind, a human being drags along, holding on for dear life to the rings on the sleigh. It is the post-boy from the last stage.
At last they were groping their way in the darkness towards the sh.o.r.e, where the electric lights of the station showed faintly through the snow-fog. And hardly had Peer got out of the sleigh before the snow stopped suddenly, and the dazzling electric suns shone over the place, with the workmen's barracks, the a.s.sistants' quarters, the offices, and his own little plank-built house. Two of the engineers came out to meet him, and saluted respectfully.
”Well, how is everything getting on?”
The greybeard answered: ”The men have struck work to-day.”
”Struck? What for?”
”They want us to take back the machinist that was dismissed the other day for drunkenness.”
Peer shook the snow from his fur coat, took his bag, and walked over to the building, the others following. ”Then we'll have to take him back,”
he said. ”We can't afford a strike now.”
A couple of days later Peer was lying in bed, when the post-bag was brought in. He shook the letters out over the coverlet, and caught sight of one from Klaus Brook.
What was this? Why did his hand tremble as he took it up? Of course it was only one of Klaus's ordinary friendly letters.
DEAR FRIEND,--This is a hard letter to write. But I do hope you have taken my advice and got some of your money at any rate over to Norway.
Well, to be as brief as possible! Ferdinand Holm has decamped, or is in prison, or possibly worse--you know well enough it's no good asking questions in a country like this when a big man suddenly disappears.
He had made enemies in the highest places; he was playing a dangerous game--and this is the end of it.
You know what it means when a business goes into liquidation out here, and no strong man on the spot to look after things. We Europeans can whistle for our share.
You'll take it coolly, I know. I've lost every penny I had--but you've still got your place over there and the workshops. And you're the sort of fellow to make twice as much next time, or I don't know you. I hope the Besna barrage is to be a success.
Yours ever,
KLAUS BROCK.
P.S.--Of course you'll understand that now my friend has been thrown overboard it will very likely be my turn next. But I can't leave now--to try would rouse suspicion at once. We foreigners have some difficult balancing to do, to escape a fall. Well, if by chance you don't hear from me again, you'll know something has happened!
Outside, the water was streaming down the channels into the fall. Peer lay still for a while, only one knee moving up and down beneath the clothes. He thought of his two friends. And he thought that he was now a poor man--and that the greater part of the burden of the security would fall now on old Lorentz D. Uthoug.
Clearly, Fate has other business on hand than making things easy for you, Peer. You must fight your fight out single-handed.
Chapter XI
One evening in the late autumn Merle was sitting at home waiting for her husband. He had been away for several weeks, so it was only natural that she should make a little festivity of his return. The lamps were lit in all the rooms, wood fires were crackling in all the stoves, the cook was busy with his favourite dishes, and little Louise, now five years old, had on her blue velvet frock. She was sitting on the floor, nursing two dolls, and chattering to them. ”Mind you're a good girl now, Josephine.
Your grandpa will be here directly.” Merle looked in through the kitchen door: ”Have you brought up the claret, Bertha? That's right. You'd better put it near the stove to warm.” Then she went round all the rooms again. The two youngest children were in bed--was there anything more to be done?
It would be an hour at least before he could be here, yet she could not help listening all the time for the sound of wheels. But she had not finished yet. She hurried up to the bathroom, turned on the hot water, undressed, and put on an oilskin cap to keep her hair dry, and soon she was splas.h.i.+ng about with soap and sponge. Why not make herself as attractive as she could, even if things did look dark for them just now?
A little stream of talk went on in her brain. Strange that one's body could be so great a pleasure to another. Here he kissed you--and here--and here--and often he seemed beside himself with joy. And do you remember--that time? You held back and were cold often--perhaps too often--is it too late now? Ah! he has other things to think of now. The time is gone by when you could be comfort enough to him in all troubles.