‘When you’ve dossed on stone for three days, the marrow in your bones will turn to ice. Well, how about it?’

‘It’s up to you, Herr Rosenthal,’ urged the instructor.

Two strokes of a bell boomed through the building. The whole landing leapt to life, bolts began to rattle . . .

‘Quick, or I’ll go straight to the chief.’

‘Please, Herr Rosenthal!’

‘I’ll put Batzke on to you, you fat swine, he’s my mate. He’ll knock your head off.’

‘Herr Rosenthal, please . . . ’

‘All right, give it him . . . but you’ve got to stand in with me, Instructor.’

‘On account,’ said Kufalt, and spat on the hundred-mark note. ‘I’ll be outside the day after tomorrow, fatty, and I’ll think of you when I’m with the girls. Now, Uncle Nets, you put my bucket in my cell while I’m at recreation. And some hydrochloric too, or there’ll be trouble. Morning!’

And Kufalt darted down the corridor to his cell.

IV

Eighty noisy, chattering prisoners clopped down the four iron staircases leading to the ground floor. There, at the door into the yard, stood two warders, repeating mechanically: ‘Keep your distance. No talking. Keep your distance. Anyone talking will be reported.’

But the prisoners did talk. Only when near the warders were they silent; once they had passed, they dropped into that loud whisper that carries just further than five paces, though the speaker’s lips must never move or he would be reported at once.

Kufalt was in high form. He conversed simultaneously with the man in front of him and the one behind, who were anxious to get anything they could out of the category three man.

‘It’s all balls that category two are to hear the wireless. Don’t you believe a word of it, mate.’

‘Yes, I’ll be out the day after tomorrow . . . Don’t yet know. Perhaps I’ll pull off a job again, perhaps I’ll go into my brother-in-law’s office.’

‘How are they going to get 125 category two men into the schoolroom? There’s only room for fifty at the most. You’re a twerp. You’ll believe anything.’

‘My brother-in-law? I don’t mind telling you. He’s got a felt slipper factory, if you must know.