“No,” said Ove with a steady voice. “So who was it?”
Ove stood in silence. “Answer the question!” ordered the director.
Ove looked up. Stood there with a straight back. “I’m not the sort that tells tales about what other people do,” he said.
The room was steeped in silence for what must have been several minutes.
“You do understand, Ove... that if you don’t tell us who it was,
and if we have one or more witnesses who say it was you..."
then we’ll have to draw the conclusion that it was you?” said the director, not as amicable now.
Ove nodded, but didn’t say another word. The director scrutinized him, as if he were a bluffer in a game of cards.
Ove’s face was unmoved. The director nodded grimly. “So you can go, then.” And Ove left.
Tom had put the blame on Ove when he was in the director’s office some fifteen minutes earlier.
During the afternoon, two of the younger men from Tom’s shift, eager as young men are to earn the approval of older men,
came forward and claimed that they had seen Ove take the money with their own eyes.
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