Pettersen.
[Mutters.] The devil—who's this now?
Old Ekdal appears from the right, in the inner room. He is dressed in a threadbare overcoat with a high collar; he wears woollen mittens, and carries in his hand a stick and a fur cap. Under his arm, a brown paper parcel. Dirty red-brown wig and small grey moustache.
Pettersen.
[Goes towards him.] Good Lord—what do you want here?
Ekdal.
[In the doorway.] Must get into the office, Pettersen.
Pettersen.
The office was closed an hour ago, and
Ekdal.
So they told me at the front door. But Gråberg's in there still. Let me slip in this way, Pettersen; there's a good fellow. [Points towards the baize door.] It's not the first time I've come this way.
Pettersen.
Well, you may pass. [Opens the door.] But mind you go out again the proper way, for we've got company.
Ekdal.
I know, I know—h'm! Thanks, Pettersen, good old friend! Thanks! [Mutters softly.] Ass! [He goes into the office; Pettersen shuts the door after him.
