Now they’ve left him in sole charge of a shunting-engine, but he thinks: I’ll stick it for the remaining two years until I draw my pension. His superiors leave him alone, but it’s his colleagues. Colleagues are always the worst.’

Pause. Stuff drinks plentifully.

‘Maybe Kalübbe will go out and pee, so I can talk to him in private.’

‘Do you think he will?’

‘If I go about it the right way, he will.’

‘You’re taking a chance, aren’t you?’

‘Why? If it gets out, then it was just the drink talking.’

‘Hey, Stuff, the young fellow by himself at the corner table keeps staring at you.’

‘Well, if he likes what he sees. No, I’ve no idea who it is. Ex-officer, I’d guess. Presently travelling in mineral oils and lubricants.’

‘It looks to me as though he’d like a word with you.’

‘Maybe he knows me.—Cheers! Cheers!’ Stuff calls out to the unknown young man right across the pub, who raises his own beer glass back.

‘So you do know him?’

‘No idea. He’s after something. Well, let him come.’

‘Funny thing, to drink to you like that.’

‘What’s so funny about it? Maybe he likes my potato nose. Well, I’ll have another schnapps first, Kalübbe’s sitting tight.’

‘Say, Stuff,’ Wenk begins again. ‘Tredup was complaining about you today. Says you never let him earn any money.’

‘Tredup can get knotted. I’ve not spoken to Tredup for a fortnight.’

‘Because of the oxen?’

‘The oxen? Does that ox think I’ll run his article about the cattle auction just so he can earn his five pfennigs a line?!’

‘I think he’s short.’

‘Listen, we’re all short. Let me tell you something, Wenk, all the people who don’t have enough money are useless. Tredup is as keen on money as a cat is on catnip.’

‘What if his family is going hungry?’

‘And that’s reason enough for me to alienate everyone by running his stupid report? If I carry something that’s pro the farmers, then look to your advertising section: Revenue Department, police, government announcements, they’ll drop us just like that.’

‘But he says he’s written a second report against the farmers?’

‘Well . . . ? So I’m to be against the farmers now, am I? Actually, I feel a sneaking sympathy with them. Would I be sitting here otherwise, waiting for Kalübbe, who seems to be intent on keeping his flies buttoned up?—Ah, at last! Speak of the devil . . . See you later!’

And Stuff heavily pads off in pursuit of Kalübbe.

II

Stuff takes up position in the urinals beside Kalübbe, who is staring vacantly at the running water. Stuff says: ‘Evening, Kalübbe!’

‘Evening! Oh, it’s you, Stuff. How’s life treating you?’

‘Shitty, as ever.’

‘Why would it be any other way?’

‘Well, there’s a thing! Even officialdom is starting to moan!’

‘Officialdom? Hardly . . .’

‘I thought you were. Whereas if my Schabbelt succeeds in making gold from lettuce he’ll shut the paper and I’ll be out on my ear.’

‘Well. You with your province-wide reputation.’

‘Truer of you these days. Since that affair with the oxen—’

‘Sorry, Stuff, no time. I’ve got to get back to my skat game—’

‘Of course.—Is it true that the case is due to be heard tomorrow?’

‘Could be.—Look, I’m keeping Thienelt and Gruen waiting.’

‘And that you’re supposed to identify the culprits?’

‘Skat calls.’

‘And that Thiel, your assistant, was summarily sacked?’

‘Jesus, if you know everything, what are you doing asking? Evening, Stuff!’

‘Do you want to be in on a secret, Kalübbe? You’re about to be demoted.