Egholm joined in the laugh at his own jest. Now that he had finally decided, all was brightness and freedom ahead. Away, away, like a bird that wakes to find its cage suddenly open. He could feel no anger against anyone now.
"Have a cigar," said Karlsen. There was no end to his amiability to-day.
"Don't you, though? I say, Egholm, I wonder if you'd be above doing me a little favour?" Karlsen bit off the end of his cigar.
"Certainly, certainly." Egholm dived willingly into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches.
"Thanks--as a matter of fact, it wasn't matches so much I was thinking of. Another little matter...." The match flared and flared.
Egholm happened to glance at the other's face. The bright black eyes, with a fan of wrinkles out to the side, reminded him of fluttering cockchafers. Why, the man was nervous himself! His hand was shaking. And suddenly he brought the match too close to his beard....
"Of all the cursed.... H'm. Well, never mind.--Look here, Egholm, you couldn't manage to fix up another youngster at your place--a baby? You've quite a crowd already; it wouldn't be noticed. It's not mine--ha ha! No; it's Meilby's. I daresay he's told you.... Silly thing to do--playing with fire...."
"Ah, that's just where it comes in. In the first place, there's no one I'd sooner trust with a little angel like that, than you, my dear friends. And, in the second place, it'll be worth something to whoever takes it, and I'd like you to have the money. It'll be paid for, and well paid for. See what I mean?"
Egholm was alert in an instant. His heart was bubbling over with gratified malice. He put on a thoughtful expression as he took his ticket.
"Well, yes and no. He comes to the meetings, you know, so I'd like to help him if I can. I can't take the kid myself, you understand. The mother's in a dairy all day."
"But about the money," said Egholm, moving towards the train. "What's it worth?"
"Oh, any amount," said the Evangelist. In his delight at finding Egholm so amenable to his plan, he forgot to restrain his play of feature. "Hundred and fifty _kroner_ at the least. Let him pay, the beggar, it's his own fault, and I'll give him a talking-to. I went up to his place just now, by the way, but he wasn't in."