Stig becomes aware of it, although he is staring straight in front of him. He looks searchingly at the arrow polisher as he passes him, and this smile must be different from other human smiles, for a twinge goes through Stig. Almost imperceptibly, but the arrow polisher notices it – and then it is all over, Stig is past him, without having answered his greeting in any way. The only thing was that twinge in the muscles of his face. Surprise at something. Then he was gone into the passage on the other side.

The arrow polisher is really afraid now. He sets off as fast as he can without actually running, for he dare not take to his heels. There is his polishing equipment. He leaves it where it is and walks on. He meets people and does not look at them. Only home to Frank and Freda.

Nobody is after me, he tells himself, but finds it difficult to believe.

Frank and Freda are both there when he comes in. They are hungry and are waiting for him impatiently. Freda is keeping their scanty meal warm. But they do not welcome him with any warmth because he has finally arrived. They want to ask one question: Where have you been? But they cannot. They don’t want to know where he spends his time now.

‘What’s the matter? Have you been waiting long?’ he says, before he can check it. ‘I was kept a bit, but I didn’t expect it to drag out so.’

They don’t ask. They just stare at him. He is wearing his troubled conscience on his sleeve. He pulls himself together. He mustn’t forget himself.

‘Have you eaten?’ he asks stupidly. He can see that they haven’t.

‘No,’ answers Freda curtly. She is busy putting the food on to the table. Frank sits down without a word, waiting.

The arrow polisher goes into his room and empties his pocket, first making a quick search for a new note, but there is none. Then he washes himself. He looks in the mirror. He looks the same as usual, he decides, and finds it an incredible relief.

When they are seated at table he breaks the silence and tells them why he was so late.

‘I was mixed up in something that that fellow Stig, you know, is involved with,’ he says, turned towards Frank.

They gape at him. They know very well what sort of a fellow Stig is. Their cheeks flush.

‘Stig?’ says Frank.

The arrow polisher nods.

‘Yes, I came across him, and he was able to use me. Anyway, I’ve felt like going along with him a little for some time.’

They become more cheerful as they listen to him.

It does not occur to them to doubt his word, although this is so unexpected. They have never caught their father lying as long as they can remember. Have they done him an injustice? But he does polish those arrows doesn’t he? They can’t make it out. But they are delighted to hear this.