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house, and when he had seen him go in, he sighed
and raised his eyes to heaven. So it went on for
weeks, until the summer came. Then he realised
that he could do nothing about it, and he gave up
following him.
It was summer, an afternoon heavy with heat,
there was no sound in the street, and Werendonk
was standing alone in the shop which was empty
of customers. Frans came in, his cap in his hand,
the collar of his shirt open ; exhausted, despair in
his eyes, he went up the steps into the parlour as
though he were at the end of his tether. When
Gerbrand came in to see what was wrong, he was
sitting by the wall, his hands hanging down at his
sides. He tried to speak, but the tears sprang into
his eyes. Gerbrand waited, standing in front of
him. The door opened, Jansje put her head round
it, and Stien came after her. Frans stammered,
repeating the name of Floris, and pointing helplessly
in one direction. They gave him water. Then he
spoke, but so incoherently that Gerbrand, although
he shook him by the shoulder, could only guess what
he was trying to say. At last he grasped that Floris
had been seen in Great Houtstraat between two
policemen. Werendonk took his cap and went out.
He was away for an hour, and when he returned,
with a drawn face, he went upstairs to his room.
Frans sat alone at the supper-table. He was still
sitting there at nine o'clock when Gerbrand came