Sylvius Hogg was no longer the traveling deputy, anxious to ascertain the exact condition of the country from a commercial as well as a political point of view.  He was the guest of the Hansens, the debtor of Joel and Hulda, whose interests now outweighed all else in his estimation—­a debtor who was resolved to pay his debt of gratitude at any cost, though he felt that what he was about to attempt for them was but a trifle.

On his arrival in Bergen, Sylvius Hogg landed at the lower end of the town, on the wharf used as a fish-market, but he lost no time in repairing to the part of the town known as the Tyske Bodrone quarter, where Help, Junior, of the house of Help Bros., resided.

It was raining, of course, for rain falls in Bergen on at least three hundred and sixty days of every year; but it would be impossible to find a house better protected against the wind and rain than the hospitable mansion of Help, Junior, and nowhere could Sylvius Hogg have received a warmer and more cordial welcome.  His friend took possession of him very much as if he had been some precious bale of merchandise which had been consigned to his care, and which would be delivered up only upon the presentation of a formal order.

Sylvius Hogg immediately made known the object of his visit to Help, Junior.  He inquired if any news had yet been received of the “Viking,” and if Bergen mariners were really of the opinion that she had gone down with all on board.  He also inquired if this probable shipwreck, which had plunged so many homes into mourning, had not led the maritime authorities to make some search for the missing vessel.

“But where were they to begin?” replied Help, Junior.  “They do not even know where the shipwreck occurred.”

“True, my dear Help, and for that very reason they should endeavor to ascertain.”

“But how?”

“Why, though they do not know where the ‘Viking’ foundered, they certainly know where the bottle was picked up by the Danish vessel.  So we have one valuable clew which it would be very wrong to ignore.”

“Where was it?”

“Listen, my dear Help, and I will tell you.”

Sylvius Hogg then apprised his friend of the important information which had just been received through the Naval Department, and the full permission given him to utilize it.

The bottle containing Ole Kamp’s lottery-ticket had been picked up on the third of June, about two hundred miles south of Iceland, by the schooner “Christian,” of Elsineur, Captain Mosselman, and the wind was blowing strong from the south-east at the time.

The captain had immediately examined the contents of the bottle, as it was certainly his duty to do, inasmuch as he might-have rendered very effectual aid to the survivors of the “Viking” had he known where the catastrophe occurred; but the lines scrawled upon the back of the lottery-ticket gave no clew, so the “Christian” could not direct her course to the scene of the shipwreck.