Kallem examined him and found a swelling the size of a walnut in the pit of the stomach; Kristen Larssen knew of its existence too. "Has this grown larger?" "Oh, yes." "It has grown very quickly," remarked she in the corner. Kallem felt himself grow hotter and hotter. Why had he let himself be put off by the other's refusal of his help? The wife's eyes followed him about, her knitting-pins moved more slowly, she seemed to grow quite stiff; the doctor tried to keep a quiet countenance, but she was not to be taken in. Kristen Larssen's cold eyes also followed him about inquiringly. Kallem told them to open the register on the hearth and leave it open the whole time, day and night; their fire-wood would suffer, but that could not be helped. Sören Pedersen got up and opened it with great eagerness. Both Kristen Larssen and his wife looked disapprovingly at him; the fire-wood did not belong to him. To gain time and calmness Kallem took up the books that lay there; they were some of his own English ones, and there was also a work on mechanics; then he began staring at the little toy the sick man had in his hands. "What is that?" Sören Pedersen explained that it was an improvement on the knitting-machine that Kristen Larssen had invented. As he went on with the explanation little by little, Larssen's fingers touched the wheels and the pins with so dexterous and soft a touch that it was easy to see the power of his mind and his love for his work. All over the room, on the tool-chest, on the floor, up on the table, were piled up things for mending, from watches and guns to sewing-machines, coffee-mills, locks, and broken tools. Kallem's revolver had been taken out of its case, and he heard now that it was the only thing that Larssen had repaired since Christmas. All this talk of Sören's was a respite for Kallem; he knew now how he would manage. He spoke about diet and about medicine to relieve the pain, and asked Sören Pedersen to go with him to fetch the latter. Hardly were they out in the street before Kallem said that there was no hope for Kristen Larssen; this was undoubtedly cancer in the stomach, and very far advanced too. The self-sufficient cunning in Sören Pedersen's round shining face disappeared by all sorts of back ways, his face was a blank whose doors and windows all were open. "I shall soon be able to give a decided opinion and then you, who know him better than I do, will have to tell him." Kallem quite forgot to speak about Aune.