“Well, Marja,” says Lewandowski, and gulps dangerously with his Adam’s apple, “you can come in all right, they won’t hurt you.”

She goes round and proffers each of us her hand. Then she produces the child, which in the intervals has done something in its napkin. From a large handbag embroidered with beads she takes out a clean one and makes the child fresh and presentable. This dispels her first embarrassment, and the two begin to talk.

Lewandowski is very fidgety, every now and then he squints across at us most unhappily with his round goggle eyes.

This time is favourable, the doctor’s visit is over, at the most one of the sisters might come in. So one of us goes out to prospect. He comes back and nods. “Not a soul to be seen. Now’s your chance, Johann, set to.”