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.