Ticket No. 9672 - Jules Verne (i can read book club .txt) 📗

to say, Sylvius Hogg began to move restlessly about in his chair, as if he had suddenly been stricken with palsy.

“Nine,” said the president, stating the number the third little girl had just extracted from the third urn.

Nine! That was the first figure on Ole Kamp’s ticket.

“Six!” said the president.

For the fourth little girl was timidly displaying a six to all the eyes riveted upon her.

The chances of winning were now one out of a hundred for all the numbers from one to ninety-nine, inclusive.

Could it be that this ticket of Ole Kamp’s was to be the means of placing one hundred thousand marks in that villainous Sandgoist’s pocket. Really such a result would almost make one doubt the justice of God!

The fifth little girl plunged her hand into the next urn, and drew out the fifth figure.

“Seven!” said the president, in a voice that trembled so as to be scarcely audible, even to those seated on the first row of benches.

But those who could not hear were able to see for themselves, for the five little girls were now holding up the following figures to the gaze of the audience:

00967.

The winning number consequently must be one between 9670 and 9679, so there was now one chance out of ten for Ole Kamp’s ticket to win the prize.

The suspense was at its height.

Sylvius Hogg had risen to his feet, and seized Hulda Hansen’s hand. Every eye was riveted upon the young girl. In sacrificing this last momento of her betrothed, had she also sacrificed the fortune Ole Kamp had coveted for her and for himself?

The sixth little girl had some difficulty getting her hand into the urn, she was trembling so, poor thing! but at last the figure appeared.

“Two!” exclaimed the president, sinking back in his chair, quite breathless with emotion.

“Nine thousand six hundred and seventy two!” proclaimed one of the directors, in a loud voice.

This was the number of Ole Kamp’s ticket, now in Sandgoist’s possession. Everybody was aware of this fact, and of the manner in which the usurer had obtained it; so there was a profound silence instead of the tumultuous applause that would have filled the hall of the University if the ticket had still been in Hulda Hansen’s hands.

And now was this scoundrel Sandgoist about to step forward, ticket in hand, to claim the prize?

“Number 9672 wins the prize of one hundred thousand marks!” repeated the director. “Who claims it?”

“I do.”

Was it the usurer of Drammen who answered thus?

No. It was a young man⁠—a young man with a pale face, whose features and whole person bore marks of prolonged suffering, but alive, really and truly alive.

On hearing this voice, Hulda sprung to her feet, uttering a cry that penetrated every nook and corner of the large hall; then she fell back fainting.

But the young man had forced his way impetuously through the crowd, and it was he who caught the unconscious girl in his arms.

It was Ole Kamp!

XX

Yes; it was Ole Kamp! Ole Kamp, who, by a miracle, had survived the shipwreck of the Viking. The reason the Telegraph had not brought him back to Europe can be easily explained. He was no longer in the region visited by the dispatch-boat, for the very good reason that he was already on his way to Christiania on board the vessel that had rescued him.

This is what Sylvius Hogg was telling. This is what he repeated to all who would listen to him. And what a crowd of listeners he had! This is what he related with the triumphant accents of a conqueror! Those around him repeated it to those who were not fortunate enough to be near him, and the good news flew from group to group until it reached the crowd that filled the courtyard and the neighboring streets.

In a few moments, all Christiania knew that the young mate of the Viking had returned, and that he had won the grand prize of the Schools Lottery.

It was a fortunate thing that Sylvius Hogg was acquainted with the whole story, as Ole certainly could not have told it, for Joel nearly smothered him in his embrace while Hulda was regaining consciousness.

“Hulda! dearest Hulda!” said Ole. “Yes, it is I⁠—your betrothed⁠—soon to be your husband!”

“Yes, soon, my children, very soon!” exclaimed Sylvius Hogg. “We will leave this very evening for Dal. And if such a thing was never seen before, it will be seen now. A professor of law, and a member of the Storthing will be seen dancing at a wedding like the wildest youth in the Telemark.”

But how had Sylvius Hogg become acquainted with Ole Kamp’s history? Simply through the last letter that the Naval Department had addressed to him at Dal. In fact this letter⁠—the last he had received, and one whose receipt he had not mentioned to anyone⁠—contained another letter, dated from Christiansand. This second letter stated that the Danish brig Genius had just reached Christiansand, with several survivors of the Viking on board, among them the young mate, Ole Kamp, who would arrive in Christiania three days afterward.

The letter from the Naval Department added that these shipwrecked men had suffered so much that they were still in a very weak condition, and for this reason Sylvius Hogg had decided not to say anything to Hulda about her lover’s return. In his response he had also requested the most profound secrecy in regard to this return⁠—and in compliance with this request the facts had been carefully kept from the public.

The fact that the Telegraph had found no traces nor survivors of the Viking can also be easily explained.

During a violent tempest the vessel⁠—which had become partially disabled⁠—being obliged to scud along before the wind in a northwesterly direction, finally found herself about two hundred miles from the southern coast of Iceland. During the nights of the third and fourth of May the worst nights of the gale⁠—it collided with one