give them tickets; they look as if they want a meal!"
And I stood and looked at these tickets, and wished I had one.
"Andreas Tangen—journalist."
I advanced and bowed.
"But, my dear fellow, how did you come here?"
I explained the whole state of the case, repeated the same story as last night, lied without winking, lied with frankness—had been out rather late, worse luck . . . café . . . lost door-key . . .
"Yes," he said, and he smiled; "that's the way! Did you sleep well then?"
I answered, "Like a Cabinet Minister—like a Cabinet Minister!"
"I am glad to hear it," he said, and he stood up. "Good-morning."
And I went!
A ticket! a ticket for me too! I have not eaten for more than three long days and nights. A loaf! But no one offered me a ticket, and I dared not demand one. It would have roused suspicion at once. They would begin to poke their noses into my private affairs, and discover who I really was; they
