“All right,” he said abruptly. “Who are you and what do you want?”
Ruth nodded, again taking the role of spokesman, knowing it was certainly all right with Gregor who hadn’t even wanted to come. “My name is Ruth McVeigh and this is Dr. Kovpak. We want to talk to you about something that happened last January. You dove in the vicinity of the Gedser lighthouse, to recover the body of your brother who had gone down in a storm—”
Knud Christensen frowned. These two certainly didn’t want to talk about Gustave or his recovery of Gustave’s body. Why should they? Then what did they want to talk about? Obviously they wanted to talk about that case he had brought up at a later date. But how could they have known about that? He hadn’t said anything. Had the professor? Or had somebody in the village become suspicious because of the money he had spent? But he had been careful not to spend the money in Gedser, knowing villages and villagers for what they were. Instead, he had taken the train to Naestved and gotten the anchor in a chandler’s there, and the cross at a religious shop a block away. Still, thinking about it now, after the fact, he could see how stupid he had been. Who could have failed to notice the newness of the anchor now tied to the dinghy which had since sunk, and who could have failed to wonder where the old one had gotten to? And who could have failed to notice the twisted cross torn from Gustave’s grave by those drunken vandals? The entire village had gone down to inspect the outrage, and many must have wondered at Knud Christensen’s sudden affluence in buying that cross of gold. It had been gilt over welded steel, but who would have considered that?
Still, what was all the fuss about? So somebody knew or thought they knew that he had gone down again and brought up a box from an old sunken wreck near Gustave and Niels’s fishing schooner. So what? All this to-do over a few pieces of junk costume jewelry and a shoe box full of beads and buttons?
A sudden frightening thought came. It changed his thinking completely. Who sent investigators to look into his finding some poor pieces of pot metal mixed with brass? Who even sent investigators to look into his spending a few kroner on an anchor and a welded steel cross? There must have been something in that old sunken wreck besides the one box he had brought up, something of far greater value, something to interest the authorities, like drugs, or gold bars! And they thought he had it! He knew it would be impossible to convince these two that he had only gone back the one time, and never again, not even in warm spring weather, to further investigate that sunken wreck. He knew he could never convince them that even if he had known there was something of great value there, that he would never go back, not even for the price of a granite tombstone for his family; that he could not go back. They would never believe him. The only thing to do, then, was to deny everything. Deny and continue denying. He wet his lips.
“I dove to bring up my brother’s body,” he said through stiff lips, his face now rigid, his hands now released from the chair arms as being too revealing with their white clenched knuckles, and now clasped firmly in his lap. He stared down at them. “That’s all I dove for and all I brought up. Not another thing.” His eyes came up for a moment. “Jens Krag was with me. It was his boat. He would have seen if I’d brought up anything more, wouldn’t he? Of course he would. Go ask him. He’ll tell you. Jens Krag doesn’t lie. If he isn’t at the dock he’ll be there later. Go ask him—”
Knud Christensen was speaking as if by compulsion now, sweat beginning to stand out on his brow. Ruth and Gregor were staring, incredulous and silent.
“And I can explain the new anchor, too,” Christensen said, speaking now as if to himself. He looked up, taking the other two into his confidence. “The cross was just welded steel with some gold paint on it, but I didn’t have much money after I bought the anchor. He didn’t give me very much, but then I don’t suppose it was worth very much.” He looked down again. “I don’t know why I bought the anchor. I never used it, and I never will. The dinghy, either. If you don’t believe me, look down at the dock. It’s sunk right alongside.” His eyes briefly turned to the windows facing the sea, and then down again quickly, in pain. “I could have gone back for the old one, but even if the dinghy wouldn’t have drifted without an anchor, I wouldn’t go back. I wouldn’t!” He said it fiercely and then returned to his thoughts. “I dove for Gustave’s body — he was hanging in the shrouds, as if he had been waiting for me to come for him and was glad to see me...” He looked up, desperately trying to be convincing. If he failed, he knew they would not believe him and might even take him away, away from his family. “But I never dove again. I never brought up any box.” He stared at the two white-faced people facing him, confused, hurt by the unfair inquisition. “I... I’ll swear to it if I have to—”
He suddenly stumbled to his feet and walked unsteadily to the kitchen door, throwing it open and staggering inside. The two in the living room could hear the sound of a cupboard door being opened, then the rattle of a bottle and a glass being taken down. Ruth began to get to her feet, but Gregor waved her down almost savagely. He got up silently and walked into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. Christensen had a bottle of aquavit in one hand, the half-full glass was at his lips and he was drinking eagerly. Gregor waited until the glass had been emptied and then took the bottle and glass gently from the other man. He set them down on the cluttered counter and led the man back to the living room. Christensen came docilely. Gregor seated the man in his chair again and sat down opposite him on the sofa. Ruth was still trying to fully comprehend the possibilities inherent in the jumbled statement. She leaned forward.
“Do you mean—?” she began, but Gregor’s look brought her to a stumbling silence. Gregor turned back to the huge man across from him, staring at Christensen with sympathy.
“Listen to me,” he said softly. “We are not here to cause you any trouble. Please believe me. We are here as your friends.” Christensen was staring at him dully, with faint curiosity as if wondering who this man was and how he came here. Gregor went on, his voice still soft. “This is what happened. You dove for your brother’s body and brought it up. While you were diving, you saw another sunken ship, or what was left of it, a ship that had been sunk many years ago. You saw a box there, that had been there since the boat sank. You brought that up as well.”
“I went back later and dove again. That’s when I brought the box up.” The liquor was making itself felt. Between the aquavit and the man’s friendly face, Knud was feeling better, less threatened. Besides, the man already seemed to know everything, so what was the secret?
“You went back later and dove again, and on that dive you brought the box up,” Gregor said, hardly believing what he was saying, or what he was hearing. Still, the wrecked ship could have been any wrecked ship, and the box could have contained anything: explosives, gunpowder...“It was a case made of welded steel inside of a wooden box, the whole thing held with steel straps, and it had lettering on it that said—”