Jakobsen. I have the deepest respect for you; but it is hard that in my home we should never again be able to eat a crust that we can properly call our own--for I owe more than I can ever live to repay! That is hard, Mrs. Tjaelde! What will become of my evenings with my children now?--of our Sundays together? No, I mean that he shall hear the truth from me. (Turns upon TJAELDE.) You scoundrel! You shan't escape me! (TJAELDE shrinks back in terror and tries to reach the office door, but at that moment the RECEIVER comes in, followed by two of his clerks and SANNAES. TJAELDE crosses the room, staggers to his desk, and leans upon it with his back turned to the newcomers.) The Receiver (coming up behind Tjaelde). Excuse me! May I have your books and papers? (TJAELDE gives a start, moves away to the stove, and supports himself on it.) Jakobsen (in a whisper, standing over him). Scoundrel! (TJAELDE moves away from him and sits down on a chair by the door, hiding his face in his hands.) Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up and whispering to JAKOBSEN), Jakobsen! Jakobsen! (He comes towards her.) He has never deliberately cheated any one! He has never been what you say, and never will be! (Sits down again.) Jakobsen. I have the deepest respect for _you_, Mrs. Tjaelde. But if _he_ is not a liar and swindler, there is no truth in anything! (Bursts into tears. MRS. TJAELDE hides her face in her hands as she leans back in her chair. A short silence. Then a confused noise of voices is heard without. The RECEIVER and his men stop their work of sorting and inventorying papers, and all look up.) Mrs. Tjaelde (apprehensively). What is that? (SANNAES and the RECEIVER go to one window, and JAKOBSEN to another.) Jakobsen. It's the hands from the quay and the brewery and the factory and the warehouse. All work is stopped until further orders; but this is pay-day--and there is no pay for them! (The others resume their work.) Tjaelde (coming forward despairingly). I had forgotten that! Jakobsen (going up to him). Well, go out and face them, and they will let you know what you are! Tjaelde (in a low voice, as he takes up his saddle-bag). Here is money, but it is all in gold. Go into the town and get it changed, and pay them! Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, do, Jakobsen! Jakobsen (in lower tones). If _you_ ask me to, ma'am, I--So there is money in this bag? (Opens it.) And all done up in rolls. He meant to bolt, then!--and with the money his people had lent him. And yet you say he is not a scoundrel! (TJAELDE gives a groan. The noise of voices without grows louder.) Mrs. Tjaelde (in a low voice). Be quick, or we shall have them in here. Jakobsen. I will go. The Receiver (interposing). Excuse me, but nothing must be taken away from here until it has been examined and inventoried. Jakobsen. It is pay-day, and this is the money for the wages. Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen is responsible for it, and will account for it.