he president, in a voice that trembled so as to be
scarcely audible, even to those seated on the first row of benches.

But those who could not hear were able to see for themselves, for the
five little girls were now holding up the following figures to the
gaze of the audience:

00967.

The winning number consequently must be one between 9670 and 9679, so
there was now one chance out of ten for Ole Kamp's ticket to win the
prize.

The suspense was at its height.

Sylvius Hogg had risen to his feet, and seized Hulda Hansen's hand.
Every eye was riveted upon the young girl. In sacrificing this last
moment of her betrothed, had she also sacrificed the fortune Ole Kamp
had coveted for her and for himself?

The sixth little girl had some difficulty getting her hand into
the urn, she was trembling so, poor thing! but at last the figure
appeared.

"Two!" exclaimed the president, sinking back in his chair, quite
breathless with emotion.

"Nine thousand six hundred and seventy two!" proclaimed one of the
directors, in a loud voice.

This was the number of Ole Kamp's ticket, now in Sandgoist's
possession. Everybody was aware of this fact, and of the manner in
which the usurer had obtained it; so there was a profound silence
instead of the tumultuous applause that would have filled the hall of
the University if the ticket had still been in Hulda Hansen's hands.

And now was this scoundrel Sandgoist about to step forward, ticket in
hand, to claim the prize?

"Number 9672 wins the prize of one hundred thousand marks!" repeated
the director. "Who claims it?"

"I do."

Was it the usurer of Drammen who answered thus?

No. It was a young man--a young man with a pale face, whose features
and whole person bore marks of prolonged suffering, but alive, really
and truly alive.

On hearing this voice, Hulda sprung to her feet, uttering a cry that
penetrated every nook and corner of the large hall; then she fell back
fainting.

But the young man had forced his way impetuously through the crowd,
and it was he who caught the unconscious girl in his arms.

It was Ole Kamp!

CHAPTER XX.

Yes; it was Ole Kamp! Ole Kamp, who, by a miracle, had survived the
shipwreck of the "Viking." The reason the "Telegraph" had not brought
him back to Europe can be easily explained. He was no longer in the
region visited by the dispatch-boat, for the very good reason that
he was already on his way to Christiania on board the ves