‘No one is honest!’ said the gendarme Piotrak, ‘and the law’s the law.’ But even the gendarme was not entirely happy.

They drove to the office and deposited the articles with the clerk and they both felt that they needed a drink. Good! So they drove to Litwak’s inn.

It was Wednesday that day and market day in Zlotogrod, so the inn was full of peasants, Jews, cattle-dealers and horse-copers. When the Inspector and the gendarme sat down at the great table at which a good two dozen people were already squatting beside each other on smoothly scrubbed benches, a suspicious muttering and whispering arose. Then people began to speak louder and someone mentioned the name of Mendel Singer.

At that moment a thickset, broad-shouldered, heavily-bearded man got up from the bench opposite. In a great arch he spat across the table, across all the glasses and, with masterly accuracy of aim, right into the Inspector’s glass. ‘There’s more where that came from!’ he cried and a great tumult arose. Everyone got up from the benches and Eibenschütz and the gendarme tried to climb over the table. They reached the door, but at that moment the broad-shouldered, bearded man had already pushed it open. For a short time they still saw him running along on the white snow-covered road. He ran very fast, a dark stooping streak on the white snow, towards the pine forest that fringed both sides of the road. He disappeared to the left, as if the forest had swallowed him up.

It was afternoon, it was already beginning to get dark. The snow was taking on a light bluish tinge.

‘We’ll get him alright,’ said the gendarme.

They turned back.

The gendarme Piotrak was really very uneasy about it. Had he not been wearing his full equipment and his heavy winter boots, as prescribed by regulations, he might well have been able to pursue the light-footed one. However, he was certain that he would find him and deal with him in the end, and that was some comfort. Probably he was a dangerous criminal. One would hope that he was a dangerous criminal.

The gendarme Piotrak questioned everyone in the tavern but not a single person chose to know the miscreant. ‘He’s not from this neighbourhood!’ they said.

However, Eibenschütz had the feeling that he had already seen the man somewhere. He did not know where and when. Night prevailed inside his poor head and there was no sign of dawn. He drank to lighten the darkness but it only grew darker. All around he sensed a great animosity among all the people, as never before.

They got up eventually, climbed onto the sleigh and drove to Szwaby. ‘Kapturak will know who it was,’ said the gendarme on the way.

The Inspector could not think of anything to say. After a while he said: ‘It’s all the same to me!’

‘Not to me!’ said the obstinate Piotrak.

37