But don’t breathe a word.’

Kalübbe stares at him silently. The water runs and trickles and gurgles into the conduit. The men stand facing each other.

‘Me? Are you talking about me? I’m being demoted? They must have shit for brains! Leave me be with your nonsense. I brought my ox back.’

‘That’s the reason. You should have put them in the stall of the district headman. That way there would have been tongues wagging.’

‘The revenue councillor says I did well.’

‘Don’t give me the revenue councillor! There’s plenty brighter spoons stirring the soup than him.’

‘I’m not being demoted.’

‘Oh yes, you are. Listen, Kalübbe—’

Three men barge into the pissoir. Kalübbe turns to face the mirror and starts elaborately washing his hands. The three greet Stuff boisterously. He stands by the urinal, and acts all busy, while darting an eye at Kalübbe. Kalübbe who is showing no signs of urgency to leave. Stuff grins to himself.

After some time, the three men go out and leave Stuff and Kalübbe alone again.

Kalübbe says briskly: ‘Now listen to me, Stuff. I’ve thought about it. Maybe I really will get demoted. That’s the way they like to do things nowadays. The buck stops anywhere, but only with us junior employees. But that’s of no interest to you, and if you breathe so much as a word about it in your bloody Chronicle—’

‘Not one word. You’re being demoted. Small earthquake in Chile. The only question is: Are you planning to take anyone else down with you?’

‘Down with me? I see—depends who you mean?’

‘Well, those farmers. Tomorrow is the date for the case. If you identify any of them, they’ll spend months behind bars.’

‘I’ve got no cause to want to play fair by the farmers.’

‘But why be vindictive? Wouldn’t you behave just like them if you were being forced off your property?’

‘What they did that morning was pretty unconscionable.’

‘All right, so you do the bidding of your creepy bosses. You know that revenue councillor of yours will laugh all the way to the bank if he has a few more farmers to lock up. That means another nice round of expropriations.’

‘That bastard! Listen, Stuff, what do you think? He tells me on the phone that I’ve absolutely got to get the oxen to Haselhorst, and then he punishes me because I was only able to get mine as far as Lohstedt. What kind of behaviour is that?’

‘That’s the way they are nowadays!’ Stuff spits into the urinal. ‘Are you about to take punishment from them, and name some of the farmers at the same time?’

Kalübbe hesitates. ‘It was all over in a flash. If I wasn’t able to identify the farmers . . .