But when this fellow comes, of course I have to stand to attention. Otherwise I’d spoil everything for myself. And Frank and Freda aren’t here to see me. There’s no one here to see me.

He thinks about his children a great deal. He is so proud of being able to keep them at school. They are big youngsters, fifteen and sixteen years of age. They could be a little more grateful to me, he considers, and not stare at me with those questioning eyes as they do. Stupid friends of theirs have probably been saying things about me, and that’s why they’ve started behaving like this. Why must everyone misunderstand this innocent work I’m doing? Even one’s own children. They say nothing, but I know very well what it’s all about. I shall have to discuss it with them, but it’s so difficult. I have a clear conscience at any rate; I do everything for their sake – and I…

‘Good morning!’ says the big arrow-decorated man who has reached him by now.

The arrow polisher bows on his ladder. ‘Good morning,’ he replies respectfully.

He knows this is a great honour. Such a high-ranking official has never stopped to speak to him before. He quickly pushes out of his mind the fact that he had been busy waiting for Stig. Let it go for the time being. No hurry. Now he is sharing the radiance of this man who walks, strong and powerful, down the middle of the corridors. He looks about him. He wouldn’t mind someone of the right sort seeing him now. Not Stig and that lot, but someone. The man is shining with gold. But the place is empty.

The gilded man is looking about him too.

‘Hm!’ he says, clearing his throat.

The arrow polisher becomes tense.

At the same moment something else occurs: a cry from somewhere, from a room close by. A cry in need. The arrow polisher is used to hearing such sounds. Someone is about to lose a loved one and is crying out in desperation, or in rage, at what is happening.

The gilded man has heard it too. He is probably used to it as well, and his hearing is good. He nods at the arrow polisher.

‘Did you hear that?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s what happens to people who menace this house. There’s nothing else for it.’

‘No,’ says the arrow polisher.

‘We who are working solely for what is good cannot tolerate the spread of wickedness.’

‘No, of course not,’ replies the arrow polisher respectfully. I must have made a mistake about Stig, he thinks.

The gilded man, putting on an official expression, is saying: ‘So from now on wickedness and crime will not be tolerated. They will be struck down instantly.’

The arrow polisher merely concurs dumbly. Oh, what have I been thinking of getting myself mixed up in! he thinks.

The gilded fellow feels impelled to give a brief lecture to this wretch on the ladder. He says: ‘If we don’t take action severely and impartially the people here will soon be rotten through and through. But we have realized this in time.’