‘There’s nothing the matter with me besides fatigue, and that’s usual at this time of year. The food and everything. But I’m going to bed now. I’ll feel better when I’ve had a good night’s rest.’

He sits at the table with his children, as he has done countless times before. It is a frugal meal, but it usually goes down quickly enough. He is listening for the sound of a finger on this table too, but cannot hear anything. It’s probably still busy out in the other room. That’s where he can face it, and something in him wants to face it.

He stares at the food. ‘What do I want with this?’ he says. ‘Better not touch it.’

The children’s anxiety increases.

‘Aren’t you going to eat anything?’

‘No, I don’t want it. That’s why I didn’t come when you called. I think it’s best for me not to try.’

‘You are strange,’ says Freda.

‘You’ll have to go to the doctor!’ says Frank, attempting the severe expression he had assumed just now.

‘Never mind about a doctor. I’m going to sleep. Then we’ll see if it’ll disappear of its own accord. I put my faith in a good night’s sleep.’

He gets to his feet.

‘You go on and eat. I’ll get to bed.’

He nods at them and goes. His eyes are afraid. He starts getting ready for bed but soon gives up. He’s not going to lie down, he’ll sit in his chair. The worst of it is that Frank sleeps in here as well. What is he going to say when Frank comes in ? For he wants to sit in his chair at his desk. That’s where they are warning him. There he is closest to it. And he is compelled to be close to it.

The chair is waiting for him and he slides down into it. What’s the use of resisting?

The chair is comfortable. He can say he’ll sleep here for a while, if Frank makes any difficulty.

He settles into it, facing the desk, but is frightened out of it again by someone flinging open the door. Frank rushes in.

‘Are you asleep? Oh no, you’re still up…it’s just that – they say Stig’s been caught!’

A flash of lightning, or –? Something flared across the room. Stig. Already! So terribly quickly. They must have been after him already! he tries to think, but cannot really believe that. But so quickly. They’re like lightning. Well well, so –.

‘Stig –’ he stammers. ‘Has Stig –?’

‘Yes, he’s been caught,’ says Frank, appalled, ‘and they say he hasn’t a hope.

‘My God, one can be so –’ he exclaims, clenching his fists impotently. He turns with a jerk and goes back to his sister. There is no sound from her.

The arrow polisher is appalled as well. He is beside himself. The writing is on the desk. Very well, he thinks. And sits down, as if keeping an appointment.

In a little while Frank comes in to go to bed. He is crushed by the news and is not so surprised to see his father still sitting there. He must be shattered as well; after all, he had wanted to work with Stig.