Jörgen Wilhelm Bergsöe
"Both arms from the new skeleton I've just recently received from the hospital," said Sölling with an expression as if his last cent had been taken from him. "It's vandalism!"
We burst out into loud laughter at this remarkable answer, but Sölling continued: "Can you imagine it? Both arms are gone, cut off at the shoulder joint;—and the strangest part of it is that the same thing has been done to my shabby old skeleton which stands in my bedroom. There wasn't an arm on either of them."
"That's too bad," I remarked. "For we were just going to study the anatomy of the arm to-night."
"Osteology," corrected Sölling gravely. "Get out your skeleton, little Simsen. It isn't as good as mine, but it will do for this evening."
I went to the corner where my anatomical treasures were hidden behind a green curtain—"the Museum," was what Sölling called it—but my astonishment was great when I found my skeleton in its accustomed place and wearing as usual my student's uniform—but without arms.
"The devil!" cried Sölling. "That was done by the same person who robbed me; the arms are taken off at the shoulder joint in exactly the same manner. You did it, Simsen!"
I declared my innocence, very angry at the abuse of my fine skeleton, while Nansen cried: "Wait a moment, I'll bring in mine. There hasn't been a soul in my room since this morning, I can swear to that. I'll be back in an instant."
He hurried into his room, but returned in a few moments greatly depressed and somewhat ashamed. The skeleton was in its usual place, but the arms were gone, cut off at the shoulder in exactly the same manner as mine.
The affair, mysterious in itself, had now come to be a serious matter. We lost ourselves in suggestions and explanations, none of which seemed to throw any light on the subject. Finally we sent a messenger to the other side of
the house where, as I happened to know, was a new skele-
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