He went, and before long he stood before Falk's door in Count Magni Street. He knocked, but received no reply. He opened the door and went in. Falk, who had probably had uneasy dreams, awakened from his sleep, jumped up and stared at Sellén without recognizing him.
"Good evening, old chap," said Sellén.
"Oh! It's you. I must have had a strange dream. Good evening! Sit down and smoke a pipe! Is it evening already?"
Sellén thought he knew the symptoms, but he pretended to notice nothing.
"You didn't go to the 'Brass Button' to-day?" he remarked.
"No," replied Falk, confused; "I wasn't there, I was at Iduna."
He really did not know whether he had dreamt it or whether he had actually been there; but he was glad that he had said it, for he was ashamed of his position.
"Perfectly right, old chap," commented Sellén; "the cooking at the 'Brass Button' is beneath criticism."
"It is, indeed," agreed Falk; "the soup's damned bad."
"And the old head-waiter is always on the spot, counting the rolls and butter, the rascal!"