Part 39 (2/2)
Mrs. Rantzau stood on the upper deck in her dark blue dress, with the little toque coquettishly aslant on her head. She waved her handkerchief, and Consul Jansen cried: ”_Adieu, au revoir!_”
”Merci, Monsieur le Consul; je regrette que vous soyez oblige de rester ici parmi ces dromadaires-ci.” That was Emilie Rantzau's farewell to Strandvik. As for Old Nick, she did not even grant him so much as a nod.
On the way home he encountered a procession of urchins, ragged, bare-legged and boisterous, waving j.a.panese fans and Chinese parasols--properties which he seemed to recognise.
”Here, you boys, where did you get those things from?”
”Mr. Nachmann gave us them. He threw them out of Nickelsen's window,”
cried the youngsters in chorus.
”H'm,” grunted Old Nick. ”Very funny....” and he stalked on his way.
Nachmann and Prois were busy moving the sofas back against the wall, and restoring the card-table to its former place.
”Here, what do you think you're doing?” shouted Nickelsen from the doorway.
”Salvage Corps, getting ready for a little party,” said the Warden dryly.
That evening Old Nick's little circle of friends a.s.sembled at his house. Cards and the tray of gla.s.ses were laid out as in the old days. The host, in his old brown dressing-gown, sat with his slippered feet up on the table, and puffed at his long-stemmed pipe.
”Well, you may think yourself lucky to have got out of that as you did,” said Nachmann, touching Old Nick's gla.s.s with his own.
”I can't think what made her go off like that, all of a sudden,” said Old Nick, almost wistfully.
”You can thank Peter Oiland for that,” said Thor Smith.
”Peter Oiland?”
”Yes, it was he that got her away. What about those letters you sent her, Oiland? What did you say in them?”
”H'm,” said Oiland, with a serious air. ”My dear friends, it is ill jesting with affairs of the heart. Emilie Rantzau's secret is locked for ever in my breast.” And he gazed reflectively into his gla.s.s as he stirred his grog.
”How did you manage to get them sent from Christiania?”
”Posted them myself when I was in with Sukkestad, my respected father-in-law to be, buying furniture.”
”But the photo, and Mrs. Moller's, and all that?”
”Well, the photo was one Maria Sukkestad gave me last year of her beloved spouse--taken years ago, when they were engaged.”
”Oh, Peter, you're a marvel! But suppose she'd recognised him?”
”I hardly think she could,” said Oiland dryly.
”But how did you know about Mrs. Moller's?”
”She told Mrs. Jansen she'd stayed there, and I heard about it after.
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