The Graveyard Read Online Free PDF Page B

mistake. Please don’t talk to me like that, or I’ll tell the officer on duty what I think of you.”
    His neighbor looked at him attentively. “What do you want of me?” he asked, shrugging his shoulders. “I haven’t said anything.”
    Franciszek’s nerves, strained to the breaking point, this time refused to be controlled. He began to scream, his mouth foaming, his arms waving hysterically. “You haven’t said anything? All this time you’ve been saying the most disgusting things! Who do you think you’re talking to? I am a former partisan, and I didn’t fight through the whole occupation to hear people like you sneer at everything. I made a hash of people like you with my own hands in the underground. You offend everything I believe in and our country believes in! Do you understand?”
    The man looked at him coldly. “I never said anything toyou,” he said. “Do you hear me? I didn’t speak to you. It’s you who have been bothering me.”
    “I? I bothered you?” Franciszek choked.
    The man turned to the others. “Have I said anything to this gentleman?” he asked very loudly and calmly.
    There was a moment’s silence, then the bald-headed giant said softly to Franciszek, “The gentleman said nothing.”
    “What do you mean?” Franciszek was indignant. He was trembling, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “Didn’t he drivel about denunciations, and so on?”
    “You’re raving,” said the bald man, and gave Franciszek a light push on the chest. “Everything’s got mixed up in your head, my friend. I myself heard you say you’d like to make a dash for the West, that you’d be better off there. Do you remember that or don’t you? Everybody here heard you say it!”
    “Who did?” Franciszek cried. He turned violently to the others. “Who heard me say that?”
    For a moment there was complete silence. Franciszek breathed heavily. He felt the sweat streaming down his body, causing an intolerable itch.
    “All of us,” the cell replied.
    The bald man added: “And don’t you try to bother anyone. You were very drunk, and you don’t remember what you said last night. If I were to repeat it, you’d be in serious trouble. If you know what’s good for you, keep quiet.”
    Franciszek stepped back. Hatred cast a mist over his eyes; he crouched, ready to spring at the bald giant, but at that moment the door creaked again, and Franciszek automatically turned his head.
    “Kowalski,” the lieutenant said. “Come along.”
    He was led down the corridor, to the room where he hadbeen taken the previous night. Now, in daylight, it looked even grayer and uglier than before, when it was lighted by a bright, unshaded bulb hanging in the middle of the ceiling. At the desk the corporal’s seat was occupied by the round-faced man in plain clothes. Next to him was the sergeant who had escorted him to the police station. He looked very tired; his young face was pale, and he had rings under his eyes. The three of them—the lieutenant, the man in plain clothes, and the sergeant—were unshaven; during the night the sergeant’s round cheeks had grown as downy as ripe peaches, and neither his uniform nor his heavy gun added to his dignity.
    The man in civilian clothes raised his eyes from the papers spread on the desk. “Well, Kowalski, here you are.” His voice expressed sincere worry. “It looks bad for you.”
    Franciszek was silent; frowning, he leaned against the railing, and looked at the man in plain clothes.
    “Bad,” the other repeated. Then, shaking his head, “You’re really in hot water.”
    “What the devil have I done?” Franciszek asked.
    “What’s the matter, aren’t you satisfied?” the lieutenant asked. Pushing out his chin, he stared at Franciszek with the expression of a little boy getting ready to fight.
    “I want to know what I have done,” Franciszek said.
    “And I want you to tell me,” the lieutenant said, “whether you like it or not.”
    “Yes,” the