Part 8

"Then there was Kautz, the shipowner. He went bankrupt, as you know, and let me in for L800, but in spite of that I signed, and helped him to come to an arrangement. A very nice little piece of business it turned out for him, for the year after he was a richer man than he'd ever been before, and he gave a thundering big party, invited all the town--excepting me!"

"My dear Holm, if it ever should happen to me, I'd take care you were invited too."

"Very good of you, I'm sure. But I'll tell you another little story. Consul Pram was a big man, with a big position, as you know, but a jovial soul, and easy to get on with. I've a liking for men of that sort. Well, it was in 1875, when things were at their worst all round, for shipping and trade and everything else we get our living by. I don't believe there was a business in the town that wasn't eternally worried about how things were to turn out.

"Then one day Pram came up to me. 'Puh,' said he, 'it's hot,' and sat down, puffing. It was midsummer and pretty warm.

"'You're right there,' said I, putting away my balance-sheet. I'd just tacked L200 on to the valuation of the premises to make it come out.

"'Times are pretty bad,' said he.

"'Not for a nabob like you, surely,' said I, feeling a bit anxious all the same. There was a matter of L150 between us. And I'd no idea where to rake up any funds beyond.

"'I'm not sure if I'll pull through myself,' said he.

"'Nonsense, Consul--with your credit----'

"'Still....'

"'Hermansen at the bank will let you have all you want. _You're_ safe enough.'

"'I've lost courage altogether now. It's hopeless to keep going any longer in this place.'

"'But Lord save us, man, _you_ mustn't go under. If you did, there'd be more than myself would have to go too.'

"'Well, you'll have to keep me out then, Holm, that's all.'

"Only fancy me backing a bill for a man like Pram when I was barely hanging on by my eyelids myself.

"Well, it was then the wonderful thing happened. Just in the middle of the day, after Pram had gone, came a letter enclosing L150--anonymous! I've never felt so glad in all my life, Vindt--it was like a message from Providence telling me to keep up my pluck--and Consul Pram as well!

"That afternoon I went round to his office, and backed a bill for L500. And next day Pram told me, laughingly, that he had got the bank to discount it, and Hermansen had said, 'Shouldn't have too much to do with that Holm if I were you, Pram. Not first-rate paper, really. But of course I'd take anything with _your_ name on!'

"Some time after I backed another bill for Pram, and helped him in various little ways, for the man was almost out of his senses with worry; I'm sure he'd have gone smash if he'd been left to himself. I met his wife, too, about that time, with the boy. She is a woman of commanding presence, as you know, and handsome, to look at, anyway. She gave me her hand most cordially, and said, 'My sincerest thanks, Mr. Holm, for all you have done for us. _I shall never, never forget it._'

"Six months after, the trouble was over, and young Pram was getting up a sledge party, inviting all the young people in the town. Marie's name was on the list. 'No, leave her out,' said his mother. 'He's quite a common person really, is that Holm.'

"And later, I understand, young Pram complained to the bank manager that his father had had dealings some time back with Knut G. Holm--bill transactions, but in future he would not hear of anything of the sort.

"The bank manager had good sense enough to answer that there was hardly any danger now in having dealings with Knut G. Holm!

"Well, my dear Vindt, you can see for yourself that all this doesn't incline one to further obligations. There are one or two honourable exceptions, of course, but as a general rule, I must say, gratitude is a delightful quality, but forgetfulness is far more commonly met with!

"Still, I've never said no to a friend. One must run the risk of losing both friend and money, and if by some miracle both can be kept, why, so much the better. Now, where's your bill?"

Holm took the document, scrutinised it closely, and said:

"But, my dear man, this isn't for you at all?"

"I didn't say it was."

"Syvertsen--Syvertsen--what's he got to do with it?"

"Well, you see, he's a young man reading for the Church, and consequently in need of cash. So I argued it out like this: an old sinner like myself ought to keep on good terms with the clergy; wherefore I undertook to act as first signatory in the present instance, making myself responsible for the interest. Now I want you to sign as second, guaranteeing the repayments; in consideration of which, you might reasonably demand the services of a priest, free of charge, at your third wedding."

When Vindt had left, Holm fell to pondering over various little circumstances that he had not particularly noticed before. It occurred to him now, that for the last fortnight he had had a message from Mrs. Rantzau almost every day, asking him to come and see her at nine o'clock precisely, on important business!

And, thinking over this, he called to mind that he had on nearly every occasion encountered Hermansen at the same time. It could mean but one thing, she had been using him to bring the banker up to the scratch. Well--much good might it do her! "She'll get a fine husband--oh, a remarkably fine husband," muttered Holm to himself with a sly chuckle.

He walked over to the window and looked across at the bank. It seemed in some curious way to have grown smaller; the great gilt letters, "BANK," above the entrance, were no longer impressive.

Strange, how quiet it was in the shop to-day! Not a sound but Garner counting over the cash, putting the ten-shilling notes in bundles of ten, and the small silver coins in paper rolls.

Miss Rantzau was away, and had not even sent a message.

"Have you seen anything of my son to-day, Garner?"

Garner laughed and showed his teeth. "He--he--no. Isn't he down at the quay, then? No, I don't know...."

Holm perceived that there was something in the wind, and refrained from further inquiries.

A little later the maid came in: would Mr. Holm please come upstairs, there was a lady to see him.

It was Mrs. Rantzau. She was all in black and looked very handsome indeed. Holm could not help admiring her magnificent figure, and thought to himself that Hermansen certainly seemed to have made a better bargain here than recently with the Spaniard.

"I dare say you are surprised to see me here now," Mrs. Rantzau began. "But exceptional circumstances...." she flushed, and broke off in some confusion.

"Heard the news, my dear lady. Congratulations! You've found an excellent husband, a thorough----" he checked himself, hesitating between compliment and sincerity.

"You know my past, Holm, and you will not wonder at my seeking a safe haven after my troubled life--and I hope and believe he will never have reason to regret."

"Indeed not, my dear lady; he's a very lucky man if you ask me. And at his age, too----"

"I don't think he's any older than yourself, Holm," put in Mrs. Rantzau, with a smile.

"Well, perhaps not--but he looks it, anyway."

"There was one thing more, Mr. Holm. My daughter's future is more to me even than my own, and it is chiefly on her account that I have come."

"Aha, I thought as much. So you're in the plot as well, of course?"

"The plot?"

"Yes, it _is_ a plot. First there's William turns as contrary as a rusty lock, then they set Miss Trap on to me, and now it's you!"

"Well--I came to tell you that the two young people love each other. Be good to them, Holm, and you will make your son and my daughter happy together."

"And by doing so I become a sort of relation of--of Banker Hermansen?"

"Well, is there anything wrong in that?"

"Hermansen and I as a sort of--well, what should we be? Can't be each other's half-uncles--twins-in-law. Bless my soul, it's really almost comical!"

"It's a serious matter to me, Holm. My child's future...." There were tears in her eyes as she spoke.

"My dear lady, for Heaven's sake don't let's turn serious. I simply can't stand that sort of wedding-day solemnity, weeping on one another's necks as if it were a funeral. It simply comes to this: I've been had. Well, the only thing to do is to put the best face on it one can."

She held out her hand. "Thanks, Holm. Thanks. I can assure you I shall never forget all your kindness. You are a good man, Holm."

"Thanks for the unsolicited testimonial. Well, I dare say I might be worse. And when it comes to getting out one's final balance-sheet, it's as well to have a little on the credit side here and there."

He walked across to the window and stood for some time without speaking.

"Have you seen William to-day?" he said at last.

"Yes, he came round to see us, and walked back here with me. I expect he's in the office now."

"Well, we'd better have him up, and get the matter settled out of hand at once."

As he was moving towards the door, Bramsen looked in.

"Beg pardon, Mr. Holm," he began, then stopped and stood looking from one to the other. "Er--h'm. Hopes I don't intrude?"

"Not a bit, Bramsen; come in! What's the trouble?"

"Why, 'twas just a bit of a private matter, if...."

Holm went over to him. "Anything wrong, Bramsen?"

"Andrine's come home and chucked the Salvationing business for good and all."

"Why, so much the better."

"Ay, but there's the book...."

"What book?"

"The savings-bank book--she wants it back. And now there's nothing in it, for when I bought the ship, d'you see...."

"We must talk it over later, Bramsen. I'm busy just now."

"Busy, eh? I see," said Bramsen, looking sideways at Mrs. Rantzau. And, lowering his voice, he whispered slyly, "_That's a fine one you've got there!_" and retired.

"Bramsen," Holm called after him, "tell William to come up, will you? You'll find him in the office."

William came in directly after, went up to his father and took his hand.

"Thank you, father," he said. "I didn't understand at first, but Miss Trap told me all about it. That you only wanted to try us----"

"Eh? Try you? Yes--yes, of course.... Yes, my son; it was--er--it was the only way I could see to make a sensible man of you, and get that artistic nonsense out of your head. Good idea, don't you think? Competition's a good thing all round--checks abnormal fluctuations of the market, you know."

"Father, I'm the happiest man on earth."

"Your respected mother-in-law, I've had the pleasure of meeting her before...."

"Have you, though?"

"Yes--abroad. It's many years ago now," put in Mrs. Rantzau hastily.

"And now, William, you'd better go off and fetch Betty, I think," said Holm. "And we'll have a little party this evening. I hope you will come too!"

"Thank you so much, Mr. Holm; I hope I can. But I must just speak to Alfred first."

"Alfred?"

"My fiance, Banker Hermansen."

"Oh yes, yes, of course. I really didn't know he had a Christian name--he's always been just Banker Hermansen."

* * * * *

Holm came down into the shop, muttering to himself, "Alfred--Alfred...." until he had to go into his inner office where he could laugh unobserved. Of all the extraordinary things....

He thought of Bianca in the old days, and called to mind the "Carnival of Venice," the little supper at Pfortes--and in the midst of it all loomed the stiff, upright figure and solemn, clean-shaven face of Banker Hermansen.

He had never dreamed of such a marvel, still less expected to meet with it as a reality.

That same afternoon came a card from Hermansen: would be glad if Mr. Holm could find time to come round some time during the day--a private matter. "And if you would not mind coming in by the side door, you will find me alone in the office."

Holm had once before been invited to call upon the banker "privately"--in 1879, when he had been called upon to show his balance-sheet.

The mere thought of it gave him cold shivers even now. A devilish business! And the nasty mean way all his valuations were cut down....

He went in by the side entrance, and noticed how empty and deserted the place looked. The long counter and all the green-covered desks stood as if yawning wearily in the afternoon sun. It was almost uncanny to find everything so quiet.

The banker did not seem to notice his entry at first, but sat intent upon some papers at the big oak table.

"Good afternoon, Banker!"

"Ah, there you are! Forgive my troubling you to come round, Mr. Holm, but...."

He broke off, uncertain how to proceed. The two ancient antagonists exchanged glances.

For the first time in his life Holm felt himself master of the situation towards Hermansen; this time it was the banker himself who had to show his balance.

"Well, Mr. Holm, I dare say you have heard...."

But Holm ignored the opening. "No, no, my friend," he thought to himself, "you can play your miserable hand alone, _I'm_ not going to help you out."

"I have committed the indiscretion of--er--becoming engaged," said the banker, with a faint smile.

"Hearty congratulations, my dear Banker," said Holm, offering his hand.

There was a pause, the banker evidently waiting for Holm, with his customary fluency, to break the ice. Here, however, he was disappointed; Holm merely set his teeth and fell to polishing his silk hat on one sleeve. The banker tried again.

"Mrs. Rantzau, my fiancee, has informed me that we shall be--er--in a sort of way related." He smiled invitingly, and thought: he must come round after that.

Holm was a little in doubt how best to proceed now; he was not averse to prolonging the other's awkwardness.

"Highly honoured, I'm sure. Yes, my son has been so fortunate as to gain the hand of--er--your fiancee's daughter. A charming young lady, charming. Takes after her mother." He checked himself; he had said more than he wished.

A long pause.

The banker shifted some books on the table, then suddenly he slipped up to Holm, laid one hand on his shoulder and said:

"We haven't always got on as well as we might together, Holm; circumstances have sometimes been against our friendly co-operation; but don't you think, now, we might forget all that and try to start on a more friendly footing? We're both old enough now to be glad of peace and amity, and our new relations ought to bring us closer together--what do you say?"

Holm was quite taken aback; he had never seen the banker in this mood before; the man was positively getting sentimental. He had unbuttoned his coat, and his voice was quite gentle.

"It shan't be my fault if we don't, Hermansen. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. Time cures all sorrows--patches up a doubtful balance-sheet, as you might say----"

"My dear Holm, pray don't mention it."

"Well, well, it might have been worse--as the auditor said. You're in luck's way, though, Hermansen. I've had the honour of some slight acquaintance with your fiancee in former days."

"No, really! Where did you meet her?"

"Oh, it was some years ago--we met at the house of some mutual friends--abroad. A noble woman, Hermansen, a woman of splendid character."

"One might almost think you'd been my competitor there, Holm, what?" said the banker, with a laugh.

"Why, I won't say but I might have been inclined.... But the lady--er--showed better taste, worse luck," answered Holm, with a bow.

"Thanks for the compliment! You're quite a diplomatist, Holm--I haven't seen you in that role before."

Holm put his head on one side and looked at the banker with a quizzical expression.

"Haven't you--though? Not in the little matter of the Spanish frigate?"

"Ah, yes--you had me there, I'm afraid. Very neatly done, though, very neat. There'll be a nice little profit on the repairs, I'm sure--but it's all in the family now."

The conversation was becoming more genial in tone, and when the cigars were lit the two old antagonists were chatting away like the best of friends.

Holm invited the banker to a "little family party" the same evening, to celebrate the double event. Hermansen accepted with thanks, and the pair separated with a cordial shake of the hand.

Holm walked back to the office with his hat at a more than usually rakish angle, as was his way when in high spirits. He swung his stick cheerfully, and felt a comforting sense of superiority in all directions. There was no one to oppose him now.

"Hello, you're looking unusually perky to-day! What's it all about?" This was from Vindt, who was sure to be quick on the scent of anything new.

"I've just come from my so-called brother-in-law, Hermansen, that's all, my boy."

"Oho! Distinguished brother-in-law, what?"

"Well, I'm quite satisfied with him myself. And--er--h'm--he'll be my boy's father-in-law too, you know, in a way."

Vindt stood a moment sniffing at the stump of his cigar, then, thrusting one finger into the buttonhole of Holm's coat, he said solemnly:

"Mrs. Emilie Rantzau and daughter: Knut G. Holm and son and Banker Hermansen, Knight of the Order of Vasa, etcetera. H'm. That's the worst of these cheap smokes; they stick when you've got half-way. So long, old stick-in-the-mud!"

"Queer old stick," said Holm to himself as the other walked away. "Getting quite crabby of late. But he ought to have married himself long ago."

And Holm went home to make arrangements for a thoroughly festive evening.

X

THE SHIP COMES HOME

It was Sunday. Bramsen and Andrine had had a settling up, the day before, of various matters outstanding, and the savings-bank book had been handed over, with its "Cr. balance 19s. 6-1/2d."--being all that remained from the interregnum period of Bramsen's term of office as Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Andrine opened the book and stood aghast.

"But--but, sakes alive, Paal, where's all the money gone?"

"The money--why--the money--h'm...." And in his embarrassment he looked appealingly at Amanda, who nudged him encouragingly in the ribs and whispered:

"Go on--it's all right. Tell her straight out."

"Why, you see, Andrine, it's like this. When you handed over charge of all this worldly mammon, that's naught but vanity and vexation of spirits and so on, and a clog upon the soul...."

"Oh, leave out all that and say what you've done with the money." Andrine was quivering with impatience.

"Well--I--I bought the ship."

"Ship--what ship?"

"The _Erik_, 216 ton register, B. I. to 1901, 12-1/2 ft. with full cargo...."

"Overhauled last year," prompted Amanda.

"Heavens! Fool that I was not to have known what you'd be up to. And now here we are as penniless as Adam and Eve."

Andrine held her apron to her eyes, weeping "buckets and hosepipes" as Bramsen later put it to Holm.

Bramsen and Amanda were alarmed at the way she took it, and endeavoured to console her as best they could. Neither said a word as yet about Amanda's engagement; it was plain that to mention it now would bring on a seizure at least.

"Oh--oh--oh, how could I be such a fool!" sobbed Andrine.

"Well, now, to tell the truth, Andrine, I'd never have thought it of you myself, to take up with the like of that nonsense. But seeing we've got you back again now, safe and sound, why, best say no more about it."

"What--whatever did you want to go buying ships for, Bramsen?"

"Why, you see, it was mostly because of Carljohan...." Bramsen in his eagerness had said too much, and Amanda judged it best to disappear into the kitchen for a while.

"Carljohan who?" Andrine stopped crying and looked up sharply.

"Why, Johnsen's son."

"What's he got to do with it?"

"Why, he's a deal to do with it, now he and Amanda's fixed things up together."

"Amanda! That child! And you let them!" Andrine drew herself up impressively, and Bramsen cowered.

"Don't you forget, Andrine," he said, "we weren't so very old, you and I, when we got spliced together; and he's a first-rate lad. There isn't a knot or a twist he doesn't know, and you should see him up aloft--a cat's not in it. And wrestling too--mark my words, he'll make his way in the world, and I'm sorry for the man that comes athwart him."

"Oh yes, you can talk! But seems to me you've been doing your best to ruin us all while I've been away."

"We're not ruined yet, my girl, nor likely to be, I hope. Just wait and see." And Bramsen patted his wife on the cheek.

Andrine calmed down after a while, and when Amanda came in with steaming coffee and hot cakes, the three sat down in peace and amity, and were soon discussing the excellent qualities of Carljohan and the ship.

"It's been pretty rough these last few days--we'll soon see what she's good for," said Bramsen, thinking of the ship.

"If only they come home safe and sound," sighed Amanda, thinking of Carljohan.

And so, on Sunday morning, behold the three of them walking down to church; neither Bramsen nor Amanda thought of playing truant to-day, so thankful were they to feel that Andrine had "come round" and all was well.

And Bramsen was, to tell the truth, relieved to have got it over. With the bank-book once more in Andrine's care, he felt the responsibility lifted from his shoulders. The reins of government were once more in Andrine's hands, and he had his ten shillings extra per month unbeknown to her as before.

Amanda had always chosen their place in church up in the gallery close to the pulpit. From here one could see the parson turning the leaves of his sermon, and so calculate roughly how far he was from the end. Furthermore, there was the loveliest view over the harbour and the fjord through one of the big windows.

There had been a number of wrecks during the recent gales, and Amanda could not keep her thoughts from Carljohan and his ship. The voice of the parson, and the singing rang in her ears like the rush of waters; she sat staring blankly at her hymn-book, open at No. 106, though there had been three since that.

Once or twice she woke, to hear her father's voice trailing behind the rest in a hymn, sounding all through the church, till people turned to look. Amanda flushed with embarrassment, but Bramsen went on all unconscious, plodding through each verse in his own time, regardless of the rest.

But always she fell back upon her own thoughts, of the ship and Carljohan; it was a wonder to her how Mother Christiansen, whose husband was also on board, could sit there so calmly, as if there was nothing to fear. And she with all those children to think of!

The sermon now--but Carljohan was out on the North Sea and terrible weather. Great seas breaking over the bows, till the fo'c'stle was almost hidden.

And up in the rigging was Carljohan shortening sail--oh, how the vessel pitched and rolled, till the yards almost touched the water.

If he should lose his hold--if he should be swept away--Amanda gasped at the thought, and clutched her father's hand.

"What is it, Amanda? Are you ill?" whispered Bramsen anxiously.

"No, no; only keep still. I'll be all right directly."

The organ pealed and the sound of the hymn filled the church.

Amanda could not sing a note; she was certain now that something had happened to Carljohan. Her tears flowed in streams, and she was hard put to it to hide them behind handkerchief and book.

She could hear Mother Christiansen's cracked voice just behind, and tried in vain to join in herself.

Already she glanced out of the big window beyond the choir. On the farther side of the harbour lay a vessel at anchor.

But--it had not been there before! Surely ... yes, it was a vessel just in--its flag still flying!--Heavens, it was the _Erik_!

She stood up to make sure. Yes, it was she. It was she! There was the big white figure-head--there was no mistake.

And Amanda joined in the singing with her masterful voice, till those near at hand looked at her in wonder. Bramsen himself stopped singing for a moment to listen. Then he took up the verse again and sang on bravely as before.

XI

THE CONCERT