impenetrability that it prevented me from seeing myself was broken; my
blood flowed more quietly; I soon felt my eyes close.

I was aroused by a couple of knocks on my door. I jumped up in all haste,
and clad myself hurriedly; my clothes were still wet through from last
night.

"You'll report yourself downstairs to the officer on duty," said the
constable.

Were there more formalities to be gone through, then? I thought with fear.

Below I entered a large room, where thirty or forty people sat, all
homeless. They were called up one by one by the registering clerk, and one
by one they received a ticket for breakfast. The officer on duty repeated
constantly to the policeman at his side, "Did he get a ticket? Don't
forget to give them tickets; they look as if they wanted a meal!"

And I stood and looked at these tickets, and wished I had one.

"Andreas Tangen--journalist."

I advanced and bowed.

"But, my dear fellow, how did you come here?"

I explained the whole state of the case, repeated the same story as last
night, lied without winking, lied with frankness--had been out rather
late, worse luck ... cafe ... lost door-key....