‘I don’t know,’ said Irmi. She wasn’t the one usually dispatched to run errands, and I wondered why she had let herself be. ‘They just told me to fetch you.’

‘We’ve only just begun,’ I said, thinking about the high by the river, and that I didn’t really want to stop whatever that feeling had promised.

Inside, the cafeteria lamps lit Jenö’s face more clearly. There were bruises along his jaw and another on his cheek. I couldn’t remember seeing any bruises at the bakery, but then perhaps they hadn’t come up yet. His big hands were on the table and they looked scuffed and sore. Maybe he’d been in a brawl. Maybe someone had picked on him at the Swan. Maybe it was one of Steiner’s men. Walter didn’t have a mark on him.

‘Jenö, what happened?’

Charlotte placed a bowl in front of herself. Pulling herself erect, she began to eat.

‘Charlotte, what’s going on? What about the fast?’

She began to eat the stew slowly, and we all watched. ‘Director’s orders.’ She chewed at her food. ‘We all have to eat.’

‘The Director cancelled the fast?’

‘The Director doesn’t want us doing this funny business any more. The fast is done.’

‘But I was only just getting somewhere.’

Charlotte looked at Walter. ‘You explain.’

Walter shifted in his seat and it was then that I noticed he looked different. Usually he went around with a high toss of his head as if he owned a good deal of the land you walked on, but now there was diffidence there. ‘Something happened at the Bath-house.’ He straightened his knife and fork as he geared up to his story. ‘Forgive me for repeating myself. Everyone’s heard this already.’

‘Why didn’t you fetch me earlier?’

‘Too busy recounting the story,’ he said. ‘Well; I’ll be brief. Jenö fainted in the sauna. It was very hot; naturally. And we were hungry from the fast.’

‘You fainted?’

Jenö made a noise. I’d never thought of Jenö as a fainter. I could pass out easily with only a sighting of blood. But I’d never known Jenö – brickhouse that he was – to faint.

‘I couldn’t move him,’ Walter continued. ‘I called for help. A man came in; he worked for the Baths. He was slapping Jenö, trying to wake him. And when Jenö came to, well, he must have thought he was starting a fight. There were blows on either side.’

‘What does the other man look like?’

‘Worse,’ Jenö said. Maybe it was the pain in Jenö’s jaw that made Walter the storyteller. ‘Much worse.’

‘When was this?’

‘Last night,’ said Jenö.

‘What time?’

‘Late.’

‘But what time?’

‘Why does it matter?’ said Kaspar, who was heartily eating his meal, finally out in the open.

‘About midnight,’ said Walter. ‘The man’s name is Sommer. He lives above Reinhardt’s cobbler’s.’