Halldór had to knock for some time before a janitor finally opened the door to the bank. He was shown into Jón Björnsson’s office, where he had been once before to arrange a car loan; he remembered the paintings on the walls.
Although it was Saturday and the bank was closed, four men had already assembled in the manager’s office. Halldór knew Reverend Ingimar and Jón Björnsson by sight; the third man, wearing thick-lensed glasses, introduced himself as Vilhjálmur Jakobsson, the vice president of the Gethsemane brotherhood; and the fourth man was the bank’s auditor.
Jón paced the floor, repeating, “This simply must not get out. This simply must not get out.”
Halldór could not promise anything on that score. The auditor handed him the final figures relating to the embezzlement.
“Well, that’s certainly a lot of money,” Halldór said, glancing at the paper.
Reverend Ingimar groaned and asked, “What in heaven’s name did Jacob do with it all?”
Halldór told them about Jacob’s purchase of the Birkihlíd property. “He kept thorough accounts, so I assume all this can be traced there,” he added.
“So it will be possible, then, to retrieve some of these funds, will it?” Vilhjálmur asked.
“The deceased’s estate will be handled by the executor, and you will have to make your claims to the estate,” Halldór replied. “There should be some money when the property is sold.”
Vilhjálmur was not happy with this reply, and turned to Jón. “Surely the bank is responsible for embezzlement by one of its employees?”
Before the manager could answer, the bank auditor replied, “You gave Jacob a mandate to operate your account; his withdrawals are nothing to do with the bank.”
“This simply must not get out,” Björnsson repeated.
“The bank has also suffered a considerable loss,” the auditor remarked a little defensively.
“Who on earth can you trust when upstanding citizens like Jacob let you down so dreadfully,” Reverend Ingimar said forlornly.
Halldór could see that the reverend had not recovered from the shock of this deception by his old friend. “We think he may have been ill,” he offered.
“He surely must have been,” Ingimar replied.
“Yes, of course, the man must have been insane,” Jon exclaimed with some relief, and before repeating, “It simply must not get out.”
Diary VII
January 1, 1921. New Year’s Day. The weather is mild. There was a brass band playing outside the government office.
June 25, 1921. I booked a passage for Elizabeth and myself on the Sterling north to Skagafjördur next week. We plan to walk south along the Kjalvegur route. The three royal ships arrived tonight and sailed into the sound…
June 26, 1921. King Christian X and his queen disembarked at 10 o’clock this morning. The Prime Minister welcomed the king, and an anthem was sung. Then the royal couple headed up the town quay and through the ceremonial arch between the Eimskip Company building and Thorsteinsson’s house, where the mayor and city council welcomed the royal couple. They then proceeded to the high school, with white-clad children lining their route scattering flowers in their path…
July 3, 1921. The Western Fjords. The Sterling is slow-moving because of the poor quality of its coal, and stops at every port. There is a gale blowing from the south, but there is no snow and the sun is shining…
July 4, 1921. We went ashore in Saudárkrókur and stayed at Hótel Tindastóll. Kristján has arrived as planned. He will be our guide on the trip…
July 5, 1921. The townsfolk watched with interest as we set off on foot from Saudárkrókur. Our backpacks that we brought from England attracted a good deal of attention; people here are in the habit of carrying luggage in sacks or heavy trunks. I also think people are amazed that we choose to go on a trip like this without horses. In these parts it is mainly vagrants and paupers that travel in this manner. The new walking boots are proving excellent…
July 6, 1921. Set off at the crack of dawn from Mælifell. We traveled up Mælifellsdalur valley and across Haukagilsheidi. It is foggy and drizzling, and not at all easy to find one’s way until the track marked with cairns is reached. Kristján does not hesitate at all and takes big strides. Elizabeth and I try to keep up. We found the refuge hut at Adalmannsvatn and are planning to stay the night here. We caught a few trout and ate them for supper…
July 7, 1921. The weather has improved. It is light, and visibility is good, but there is a gale blowing from the north. It helps that the wind is behind us. The track is now well defined and marked with cairns. We have to wade across a number of rivers; Strangakvísl and Blanda Rivers are the trickiest ones. It is evening by the time we reach the refuge hut at Hveravellir…