Once a Jailbird by Hans Fallada

Author:Hans Fallada
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781628723816
Publisher: Arcade Publishing
Published: 2008-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

XII

Of course they inevitably discussed this momentous event in the midday break. They were very proud of having ejected the great Herr Seidenzopf, who had, such a short time ago, been master of their destinies . . .

‘He’d have been delighted if we’d let ourselves be drawn into a row!’

‘Thinks he can say just what he likes!’

‘He can wait till we come.’

‘Whine, indeed—I know who’ll start whining first!’

‘You ran him out properly—couple of cops couldn’t have done it better.’

‘He won’t come back.’

‘Don’t you believe it. Of course he will. Three hundred thousand—he’d wear his heels out for that.’

‘Perhaps Jauch will come next.’

‘Oh God, when he starts bellowing, I laugh fit to burst.’

‘Marcetus won’t send Jauch, he knows he’s only a windbag.’

‘Suppose Marcetus himself comes—?’

Long and gloomy silence.

A rather uncertain voice said, ‘No, he’s much too grand.’

‘Possible, though.’

‘Everything’s possible, but I don’t believe it.’

‘We’ll just sit tight, he’ll soon go if no one answers him.’

But there was misgiving in their faces: ‘Marcetus—hope not, he’s a sly bugger.’

‘To work, gentlemen,’ said Maack. ‘No time to lose, we’ll have to work like fury.’

The tap-tap of the machines began, rattled on, faltered and—stopped.

They all looked round at one seat, a seat at one of the typewriters, and it was empty.

They all looked round the room, but there was no one to fill that empty seat.

Someone whistled—a long-drawn-out whistle.

‘Ahoy! Ahoy! Man overboard!’

‘Where’s Sager?’

‘Gone out to fetch beer.’

‘Assistant typing room manager!’

‘Typing room assistant manager!’

‘Bloody swine—we’ll show him!’

‘Ahoy! Ahoy! Man overboard! Ahoy! Ahoy!’

‘Comrades—’ Maack began, and swallowed painfully. ‘Comrades, my arse!’ shouted Jänsch brutally. ‘There’s no comrades here. This is a bunch of old lags and crooks. There’s the door! Kufalt, open it, and leave it open—wide open. Right; now all of you go and stand against the wall with your backs to the door. Wide apart, so you aren’t touching. Now put your arms up to your eyes. Anyone that looks will get a sock in the jaw from me; now!’ he roared. ‘Get along out, you blinking crooks, you cowardly scabs—out with you, no one’s going to see your nasty mugs, you can clear out, nobody’s looking, go on tiptoe. Go!’

A pause, a long pause; they stood unseeing with their faces to the wall. Was that a plank creaking? Was someone creeping to the door? Oh vanished childhood, vanished faith in fellow men! Jänsch snorted: ‘Are you off, Monte? They’ll give you a nice cushy job, I dare say.’

‘Stupid old brute!’ squeaked Monte.

So he was still there, at any rate.

And Jänsch growled in his deepest bass, but with an intonation of relief: ‘Do you want me, pretty boy?’

Roars of laughter—eyes opened, looked once more into the sunlight, and into each other’s faces: they were all there.

‘Ah,’ growled Jänsch. ‘We’ll see what happens in the morning, when you’ve all slept on it. I don’t trust one of you.’

‘Trust? I never did.’

‘All men are shits.’

‘Look,’ said Maack to Jänsch. ‘I think you’d better take charge of the agency from now on. You manage it much better than I, Jänsch.

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