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in such circumstances, as the notary finally came to understand when he glanced into the kitchen before leaving. The maid, who had just been slapped by her mistress for her unforgivable negligence, was still sobbing as she prepared the chicken for the soup. If I am the notary, I’m angered by the quite extraordinary insolence concealed in her meek, teary-eyed gaze. What do you want from me? I’m already buried under a mountain of problems so much more important than the ridiculous wrong you’ve suffered. He knew where to go to ensure that even in such troublesome circumstances he did not have to start work without first drinking a cup of coffee – he was familiar with the café at number one. Though in fact, even if he himself does not see it clearly enough, he cannot start work at all. Characters generally have the sense that their future is by the nature of things uncertain. Each mention of going somewhere is by thenature of things shrouded in a mist of indefiniteness, which in itself is not an obstacle. After all, it also gathers in places where there is talk of things past. So if someone decides confidently to call by someplace for a moment or plans where they will go afterwards, they have to count on surprises. Until that moment comes, the future can be imagined any way one likes. The gaze will not search ahead of time for the locations that are being prepared. What has been disregarded on the quiet is not in evidence. Even if what has been disregarded is the most important thing, no decision or design lies behind this fact. It’s always just a tangled matter of falsified invoices and furtively acquired goods.
    Those carrying out the work would prefer to confess to simple inattention, at most to having neglected their duties, rather than to intentional abuses. Yet if their indolence is the sole cause of their mishap with the notary’s office, where the hell have they put the safe in which the deposits were kept? The title deeds of several local buildings, promissory notes of various kinds, even boxes of jewelry? And above all government bonds, larger or smaller bundles of which were surely secured there for various local families. The absence of the safe has come to the fore now, and it’s hard to ignore. It goes without saying that they did not place it in the notary’s apartment at number seven. Where is it then? What have they done with it? Why have they hidden it? Were they intending to smash open the combination lock? Unceremoniously burn a hole in the armor-plated doorwith a blowtorch? I can no longer look on with forbearance at this scandalous disappearance. It needs to be said – loudly and clearly, so the master craftsmen and apprentices hear – that the safe must be found.
    Yet in the meantime, in accordance with the plan the dark gray notary made of pure wool leaves the entranceway of number seven and heads off to work. The notary is cold; he has problems with his circulation, which is understandable given his weight. His fur collar, standing out proudly amid light autumn overcoats, inspires confidence, as does his profession. The image of the office remains vivid and sharp in his mind, unsullied by any doubt. Even the question of how he is to get there does not cause him any unease. The same way I do every day, he would reply, surprised that it is not obvious. By the streetcar. In his memory he retains the entire past that has fallen to his lot along with the somber three-piece suit and the gold watch chain, so how on earth could he forget his daily ride on the streetcar? As he passes the concierge, who crumples his cap in his hands, he will tip his hat absently, because he is polite even when distracted. He completes his short route unhurriedly and sits at last at a marble-topped table. Just for a moment. He places his order and picks up the daily paper. Yet luckily things will fall out in such a way that before the cup of coffee and the cream cake taken straight from