Mysteries Read Free

and there, how they do it in other places.”
    “Oh no, I haven’t traveled much.”
    Pause.
    “Hm, maybe it’s rather with—well, with other things that you have occupied yourself. You’re a businessman perhaps?”
    “No, I’m not a businessman.”
    “So you’re not here on business then?”
    No answer. Nagel lighted a cigar and puffed slowly, looking into vacancy. The hotel keeper observed him from the side. “Won’t you play for us some day? I see you have brought your violin,” he tried again.
    Nagel replied nonchalantly, “Oh no, I’m through with that.”
    He soon got up without further ado and left. A moment later he came back and said, “Oh, about the bill, I just had an idea; you can give it to me whenever you like. It doesn’t matter to me when I pay up.”
    “Thanks,” the hotel keeper replied, “there’s no hurry. If you stay for any length of time, we’ll have to charge you somewhat less, of course. I don’t know, but do you plan to be with us for some time?”
    Nagel suddenly became animated and replied at once; for no apparent reason, his face even showed a faint blush.
    “Yes, I may very well decide to stay for some time,” he said. “It all depends. By the way, perhaps I haven’t told you: I’m an agronomist, a farmer. I’ve just returned from a trip, and I may settle down here for a while. But perhaps I even forgot to ... My name is Nagel, Johan Nilsen Nagel.”
    With that he shook the hotel keeper’s hand very heartily, apologizing for not having introduced himself sooner. His face didn’t betray the least trace of irony.
    “It just occurred to me that we might be able to offer you a better, quieter room,” the hotel keeper said. “You’re next to the stairs now, and that’s not always pleasant.”
    “Thank you, but that’s not necessary, the room is excellent, I’m quite satisfied with it. Besides, I can see all of Market Square from my windows, and that’s very interesting, of course.” 2
    After a moment the hotel keeper went on, “So you’re taking a holiday now for a while? Then you’ll be around until well into the summer, at any rate?”
    “Two or three months, perhaps even longer, I can’t say exactly,” Nagel answered. “It all depends. I’ll have to wait and see.”
    At that moment a man walked by, bowing to the hotel keeper in passing. He was an insignificant-looking man, small of stature and very poorly dressed; he had such difficulty walking that you couldn’t help noticing, and yet he managed to move along pretty fast. Though he made a very deep bow, the hotel keeper didn’t tip his hat. Nagel, on the other hand, doffed his velvet cap.
    The hotel keeper turned to him and said, “That’s someone we call Miniman. He’s a bit daft, but I feel sorry for him; he’s a very kindhearted fellow.”
    Nothing further was said about Miniman.
    “I read something,” Nagel suddenly says, “I read something in the papers a few days ago about a man who was found dead in the woods someplace around here. What sort of a man was he? A certain Karlsen, I believe. Was he someone from this town?”
    “Yes,” the hotel keeper replies, “he was the son of a local bloodletter; you can see her house from here, that red roof out there. He was only home for the holidays, and then he quit this life while he was at it. But it’s a great pity, he was a gifted boy and soon to be ordained. Hm, it’s hard to know what to say about it, but it’s certainly a bit suspicious; for since both arteries were severed, it could hardly have been an accident, could it? And now they have found the knife too, a small penknife with a white handle; the police found it late last night. Apparently there was a love affair behind it.”
    “Oh, indeed! But can there really be any doubt that he took his own life?”
    “One hopes for the best—well, you know, there are those who believe he may have carried the knife in his hand and stumbled so awkwardly that he hurt himself in two places