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“H’m. I suppose you can look after your money all right yourself?”

“Oh yes, I have it....” He thrust a hand into his pocket.

“No—I must have left it under my pillow.”

“Under your pillow—where?”

“At the place where I slept.”

“What on earth—Here, we must go along at once. Put on your coat—no, never mind the violin. Where are you staying? What street?”

“I don’t know what street it is.”

“But good heavens, child—the name of the hotel, then?”

“Hotel H——, it is called. Sera Daniel told me to go there the first night.”

They reached the street, and Grahl hurried on ahead to where some cabs were standing. Hailing one, he gave the address, hurried the boy in, and followed himself.

In the vestibule of the hotel they were met by the porter, who advanced with a discreet smile, and handed a pocket-book to Ormarr.

“You don’t seem to care much for your money, sir. The maid found this little sum under your pillow.”

The little episode was not perhaps, in itself, the decisive factor in establishing the ultimate relationship between Ormarr and Grahl. But it certainly did much to link them closer, and from that time forth, Grahl assisted the young Icelander in many other ways, apart from merely teaching him the violin.