Ah, right, right; the papers from Peter Kanzler—— NILS STENSSON. See, here they all are. [_Takes out a packet from inside his doublet, and hands it to_ NILS LYKKE. NILS LYKKE. [_Aside._] Letters and papers for Olaf Skaktavl. [_To_ NILS STENSSON. The packet is open, I see. ’Tis like you know what it contains? NILS STENSSON. No, good sir; I love not to read writing; and for reason good. NILS LYKKE. I understand; you have given most care to the trade of arms. [_Sits down by the table on the right, and runs through the papers._ Aha! Here is light enough and to spare on what is brewing. This small letter tied with a silken thread—[_Examines the address._] This too for Olaf Skaktavl. [_Opens the letter, and glances through its contents._] From Peter Kanzler. I thought as much. [_Reads under his breath._] “I am hard bested, for—”; ay, sure enough; here it stands,—“Young Count Sture has been gathered to his fathers, even at the time fixed for the revolt to break forth”—“—but all may yet be made good—” What now? [_Reads on in astonishment._] “You must know, then, Olaf Skaktavl, that the young man who brings you this letter is a son of—” Heaven and earth—can it be so?—Ay, by the cross of Christ, even so ’tis written! [_Glances at_ NILS STENSSON.] Can he be—? Ah, if it were so! [_Reads on._] “I have nurtured him since he was a year old; but up to this day I have ever refused to give him back, trusting to have in him a sure hostage for Inger Gyldenlöve’s faithfulness to us and to our friends. Yet in that respect he has but little availed us. You may marvel that I told you not this secret when you were with me here of late; therefore will I confess freely that I feared you might seize upon him, even as I had done, and to the same intent. But now, when you have seen Lady Inger, and have doubtless assured yourself how loath she is to have a hand in our undertaking, you will see that ’tis wisest to give her back her own as soon as may be. Well might it come to pass that in her joy and security and thankfulness—” —— “—that is now our last hope.” [_Sits for a while as though struck dumb with surprise; then exclaims in a low voice:_ Aha,—what a letter! Gold would not buy it! NILS STENSSON. ’Tis plain I have brought you weighty tidings. Ay, ay,—Peter Kanzler has many irons in the fire, folk say. NILS LYKKE.