Suddenly he heard himself saying: ‘I can manage half a schilling, if that’s any help to you.’

Freddy did not reply immediately. After a moment he said simply, ‘All right, let’s have it!’

He took the coin and dropped it disdainfully into his inside jacket pocket without looking at Gurdweill. The impression that his story had made on his brother-in-law gave him obvious satisfaction. As he stood up he whispered into his ear, smiling strangely: ‘You’ll see, his end will come too — that one there, I mean …’

‘No, why?’ Gurdweill protested in alarm. ‘Don’t do it, Freddy! It’s ugly!’

In his mind’s eye he saw Freddy squeezing the cat’s neck with his bony fingers, and an inexpressible disgust welled up in him. But Freddy was already walking round the room again, his hands in his trouser pockets, his head bent and slightly tilted to one side, as if he were pondering some complex problem.

The Baroness then appeared with the Baron behind her. The latter announced: ‘We’re going to eat, children!’

The meal dragged on interminably. Gurdweill felt irritable and impatient. He was sitting next to Freddy and could not avoid thinking of what his brother-in-law had told him, with the result that he lost his appetite completely. The old Baron ate heartily, his face flushed with pleasure and exertion, praising the food and the Baroness, who for lack of a maid was obliged to keep running back and forth to the kitchen, holding forth on politics and the grave economic situation, and from time to time asking Gurdweill respectfully for his opinion. Immediately after coffee, when the Baron reclined on the sofa to smoke his customary cigar, Thea and Gurdweill took their leave. Outside, Thea said that she was late for her appointment and hurried off.

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