The guard gave a start before he wrote it down, whilst I stood as important as a homeless Cabinet Minister before the barrier. It roused no suspicions. The guard understood quite well why I hesitated a little before answering. What did it look like to see a journalist in the night guard-house without a roof over his head? "On what paper, Herr Tangen?" "_Morgenbladet_!" said I. "I have been out a little too late this evening, more's the shame!" "Oh, we won't mention that," he interrupted, with a smile; "when young people are out ... we understand!" Turning to a policeman, he said, as he rose and bowed politely to me, "Show this gentleman up to the reserved section. Good-night!" I felt ice run down my back at my own boldness, and I clenched my hands to steady myself a bit. If I only hadn't dragged in the _Morgenbladet_. I knew Friele could show his teeth when he liked, and I was reminded of that by the grinding of the key turning in the lock. "The gas will burn for ten minutes," remarked the policeman at the door. "And then does it go out?" "Then it goes out!" I sat on the bed and listened to the turning of the key. The bright cell had a friendly air; I felt comfortably and well sheltered; and listened with pleasure to the rain outside--I couldn't wish myself anything better than such a cosy cell. My contentment increased. Sitting on the bed, hat in hand, and with eyes fastened on the gas jet over in the wall, I gave myself up to thinking over the minutes of my first interview with the police. This was the first time, and how hadn't I fooled them? "Journalist!--Tangen! if you please! and then _Morgenbladet_!" Didn't I appeal straight to his heart with _Morgenbladet_? "We won't mention that! Eh? Sat in state in the Stiftsgaarden till two o'clock; forgot door-key and a pocket-book with a thousand kroner at home. Show this gentleman up to the reserved section!"... All at once out goes the gas with a strange suddenness, without diminishing or flickering. I sit in the deepest darkness; I cannot see my hand, nor the white walls--nothing. There was nothing for it but to go to bed, and I undressed. But I was not tired from want of sleep, and it would not come to me. I lay a while gazing into the darkness, this dense mass of gloom that had no bottom--my thoughts could not fathom it. It seemed beyond all measure dense to me, and I felt its presence oppress me. I closed my eyes, commenced to sing under my breath, and tossed to and fro, in order to distract myself, but to no purpose. The darkness had taken possession of my thoughts and left me not a moment in peace. Supposing I were myself to be absorbed in darkness; made one with it?