The Darkroom of Damocles by Willem Frederik Hermans Page A

thought I could trust you.’
    â€˜So why don’t you?’
    They were walking down Laan van Middenburg, in the direction of Rijswijkse Weg.
    â€˜I’ll tell you why I don’t trust you. You’ve got a shady look about you. That pale face of yours, the pale hair and smooth cheeks. And then that high squeaky voice. It’s not that I’m scared, mind you. You can guess what I think you are. But if I tried to run away you’d get out your pistol and shoot me. Go on then, take me to the police – I’ve had it. I’ve been set up.’
    A tram with blacked-out headlamps rolled towards them, whistling persistently.
    â€˜If you’re so sure I’m from the Gestapo,’ said Osewoudt when the tram had gone, ‘you might just as well tell me now why you left England to come here. Save yourself some torture later on.’
    â€˜No, I’m not talking. I’d rather be dead.’
    â€˜That would be a shame. You’re a nice girl, although you seem to have taken a dislike to me.’ He put his arm around her and whispered: ‘I’ll tell you exactly what I think of you. When I saw that weird pen you’ve got in your bag I thought: where did she get that from? Must have been in England. But the picture, you understand – no, it’s got nothing to do with me.’
    â€˜So you don’t believe I got it in England?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Why not? If it’s nothing to do with you, if you’ve never seen it before, why won’t you believe I got it in England?’
    Another two paces and she in turn put her arm around him.
    But Osewoudt drew back.
    â€˜I can’t help you! I must get home! You’ll have to fend for yourself!’
    He turned his back on her.
    â€˜Don’t go!’ she cried. ‘You just gave yourself away! You must have seen that picture before, or you wouldn’t care whether I got it in England or not.’
    When they boarded the tram together he had yet to make up his mind where he would take her. Amsterdam would be the best place for her to stay. But with whom?
    He looked her up and down, then glanced around in the gloom of the tram car, which was lit only by a few bulbs largely covered in black paint. Was she wearing anything that might stand out? Wasn’t her white raincoat rather unusual, and what about that bag with the shoulder strap?
    When the conductor came she opened the bag and handed him a silver guilder for the fare.
    The conductor held the coin between thumb and forefinger and said: ‘Is this a real one?’
    â€˜No!’ said Osewoudt. ‘You can keep it if you like, but here’s a paper one. A silly mistake, you understand, a mistake.’
    The conductor held on to the coin for a moment longer, then accepted the note instead.
    Osewoudt gave Elly a nudge.
    â€˜Didn’t you say you were saving it to have it made into a pendant?’ he said, a little too loudly.
    â€˜All right for some,’ said the conductor.
    Osewoudt gave him a zinc ten-cent coin as a tip. The conductor moved away.
    â€˜What was wrong with that guilder?’ she asked.
    â€˜Where did you get that thing? Everyone handed in their silver guilders ages ago.’
    â€˜I got it in England.’
    â€˜They might just as well have sent you here with a label on your back saying MADE IN ENGLAND . How many of those guilders do you have?’
    â€˜Twenty.’
    â€˜Don’t ever spend one again!’
    As they went into the railway station in The Hague, he said: ‘Wait there, by the ticket window.’ He ducked into a telephone box, dialled his own number and waited with pinched nostrils in readiness, his pulse pounding in his forehead.
    â€˜Osewoudt tobacconists,’ he heard Ria say. ‘What can I do for you?’
    â€˜This is …’
    His eye fell on an advertisement on the cover of the telephone directory.
Mijnhardt’s Tablets
. He said: ‘This is Mijnhardt