A black cloud seems to be gathering.

‘There they are!’ begins the prisoner, standing in front of Stig. They must hurry to say what they have to say, for now it is over.

‘What is it you want to say?’ asks Stig quickly.

‘Oh, I…’

‘I can see you want to say something. Hurry. Out with it!’

The prisoner has something to say, so much that it seems to him that it ought to blow the room into fragments, and he never knew he had it in him – but when he tries to get it past his tongue he cannot do so…. And they are here! The door opens.

He forces it out: ‘I can’t say it!’

‘Try.’

‘No, no.’

He reels back, and now the two men have come in and cut him short.

The swine is visible out in the corridor, but the two men who brought Stig are the ones who have entered. The room seems filled with cruel eyes and steel.

The black cloud has gathered about Stig. He tries to shake it off, but fails. He attempts to get to his feet at the sharp word of command, but sways so badly that a rough hand seizes him and pulls him upright.

‘Good-bye, then,’ says Stig quickly to the man who is going to be left behind.

The other merely makes a pecking movement with his head. He is dumb in the presence of so many people.

In the doorway Stig manages to twist himself round and shout back: ‘We’ll all be getting out soon!’

‘Shut up!’

He is struck across the mouth, and then the door swings to, hiding him from the prisoner.

‘Good-bye,’ he says, finally able to get it out.

He remains on his feet, facing the door. He is in great agitation. Yet he is standing as still as a statue. The room is shrinking around him and he will be choked – instead of making it explode with all that he is unable to express. He did not have it ready when he should have done and now it is too late. Stig has gone and will never come back.

What did you want of him?

The prisoner is breathing with difficulty.

In any case I’ll never see him again.

And all the things I ought to have said in the short time he was with me. Why did nothing come of it?

The last bolt on the door rattled home a long time ago. He is still on his feet, looking at the door. Weakness and misery from having forfeited his chance are creeping over him.

But I’ve got my name at any rate! There it is!

All of a sudden he remembers it. Now, when it’s too late. ‘Wait!’ he shouts, rattling the door, ‘I’ve got to tell Stig my name. The right one. I’ve just remembered it! I gave him the wrong one….’

The footsteps are already some distance away and nothing can be stopped. He stays silent about everything he wanted to say. He is merely outside his usual routine and unrecognizable to himself. The swine arrives with his dinner, but he does not give him a glance.