Downstream by Sigfrid Siwertz — Read

Leaning against the polished black marble counter in a magnificent new bank was standing a thin slightly grey gentleman with a rigid haughty face. He was rather pale, and in spite of the summer heat was dressed in a closely buttoned-up dark frock-coat. He was Stellan Selamb, ex-Captain of the Göta Guards, now landed proprietor. He had suffered since his long shooting expedition in Africa from the after effects of a malarial fever which made him sensitive to chill.

Stellan wore mourning crepe round his arm. His father-in-law had moved down to the aristocracy in the sepulchral vault at Trefvinge half a year ago, not without having first immortalized his memory by a donation to the House of Nobles and in this way gaining posthumous admittance.