ispering to JAKOBSEN), Jakobsen!
Jakobsen! (He comes towards her.) He has never deliberately cheated
any one! He has never been what you say, and never will be! (Sits down
again.)

Jakobsen. I have the deepest respect for _you_, Mrs. Tjaelde. But if
_he_ is not a liar and swindler, there is no truth in anything! (Bursts
into tears. MRS. TJAELDE hides her face in her hands as she leans back
in her chair. A short silence. Then a confused noise of voices is
heard without. The RECEIVER and his men stop their work of sorting and
inventorying papers, and all look up.)

Mrs. Tjaelde (apprehensively). What is that? (SANNAES and the RECEIVER
go to one window, and JAKOBSEN to another.)

Jakobsen. It's the hands from the quay and the brewery and the factory
and the warehouse. All work is stopped until further orders; but this is
pay-day--and there is no pay for them! (The others resume their work.)

Tjaelde (coming forward despairingly). I had forgotten that!

Jakobsen (going up to him). Well, go out and face them, and they will
let you know what you are!

Tjaelde (in a low voice, as he takes up his saddle-bag). Here is money,
but it is all in gold. Go into the town and get it changed, and pay
them!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, do, Jakobsen!

Jakobsen (in lower tones). If _you_ ask me to, ma'am, I--So there is
money in this bag? (Opens it.) And all done up in rolls. He meant to
bolt, then!--and with the money his people had lent him. And yet you
say he is not a scoundrel! (TJAELDE gives a groan. The noise of voices
without grows louder.)

Mrs. Tjaelde (in a low voice). Be quick, or we shall have them in here.

Jakobsen. I will go.

The Receiver (interposing). Excuse me, but nothing must be taken away
from here until it has been examined and inventoried.

Jakobsen. It is pay-day, and this is the money for the wages.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen is responsible for it, and will account for it.

The Receiver. Oh, that alters the case. Mr. Jakobsen is a man of
integrity. (Goes back to his work.)

Jakobsen (to MRS. TJAELDE, in a low voice full of emotion). Did you hear
that, Mrs. Tjaelde? He called me a man of integrity--and very soon not
a single soul will call me that! (Goes out past TJAELDE to whom he
whispers as he passes:) Scoundrel! I shall come back again!

The Receiver (going up to TJAELDE). Excuse me, but I must ask you for
the keys of your private rooms and cupboards.

Mrs. Tjaelde (answering for her husband). My housek