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Updated: June 11, 2025
Valdemar Svensen had hastily blurted out the news of the bonde's death even while she and Sir Philip were alighting from their sledge and in the same breath had told them of Thelma's dangerous illness. What wonder, then, that Britta sobbed hysterically, and refused to be comforted, what wonder that she turned upon Ulrika as that personage approached, in a burst of unreasonable anger.
"The truth is," interposed Errington, resting his eyes with a sense of deep delight on the beautiful rounded figure and lovely features that were turned towards him, "I heard of you first through my pilot one Valdemar Svensen." "Ha, ha!" cried old Gueldmar with some excitement, "there is a fellow who cannot hold his tongue! What have I said to thee, child?
Long ago, in the days of his youth, full of enthusiasm for the worship of Odin and the past splendors of the race of the great Norse warriors, he had chosen to recognize in Olaf Gueldmar a true descendant of kings, who was by blood and birth, though not in power, himself a king, and tracing his legendary history back to old and half-forgotten sources, he had proved, satisfactorily, to his own mind, that he, Svensen, must lawfully, and according to old feudal system, be this king's serf or vassal.
"It's more interesting, and I'm a journalist. But in this case there are reasons " "Now isn't this too terribly exciting! Reasons! Just you tell me all you know, Mr. Beechtree, if it's not indiscreet. Non son' giornalista, io!" "I don't know anything. Except that there are people who might be glad to get Svensen out of the way." "But who are they? I thought every one respected him ever so!"
Where's Svensen, then?" I did not catch Stubbins's reply; for suddenly, it seemed to me that I saw something shadowy at the extreme end of the yard, out by the lift. I stared. It rose up, on the yard, and I saw that it was the figure of a man. It grasped at the lift, and commenced to swarm up, quickly. It passed diagonally above Stubbins's head, and reached down a vague hand and arm. "Look out!
It's just on eleven now. The President's not to hand and no one seems to know where he is. Oh, well, it's not his fault; people spoil him. His head's turned, poor Svensen. I expect he made a night of it and is lying in this morning. I don't blame him. We don't need a President. But there seems to be some unrest among the Secretariat." This seemed, indeed, to be so.
Meanwhile Henry stood about in the lobby, where a greater excitement and buzz of talk than usual went on. Where was Dr. Svensen? The other members of the Norwegian delegation could throw no light on the question.
There was nothing more to be done now, thought Ulrika piously, but to trust in the Lord and hope for the best. And Valdemar Svensen made with his own hands a tiny coffin for the body of the little dead boy who was to have brought such pride and satisfaction to his parents, and one day rowed it across the Fjord to that secret cave where Thelma's mother lay enshrined in stone.
Now and then a shaft of sunlight fell on some glittering point of felspar or green patch of verdure. and Valdemar Svensen stated that he knew of a sandy creek where, if the party chose, they could land and see a small cave of exquisite beauty, literally hung all over with stalactites. "I never heard of this cave," said Gueldmar, fixing a keen eye on the pilot.
"Why do we linger? The wind favors us, and the tide sweeps forward forward! See how the lights beckon from the harbor!" He bent his brows and looked almost angrily at Svensen. "Do what thou hast to do!" and his tones were sharp and imperious. "I must press on!"
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