Y. I am not going by way of Malmo.

MR. X. Oh, you are not?

MR. Y. No.

MR. X. But that need not prevent you from witnessing my signature.

MR. Y. N-no!--I never write my name on papers of that kind--

MR. X.--any longer! This is the fifth time you have refused to
write your own name. The first time nothing more serious was
involved than the receipt for a registered letter. Then I began to
watch you. And since then I have noticed that you have a morbid
fear of a pen filled with ink. You have not written a single
letter since you came here--only a post-card, and that you wrote
with a blue pencil. You understand now that I have figured out the
exact nature of your slip? Furthermore! This is something like the
seventh time you have refused to come with me to Malmo, which
place you have not visited at all during all this time. And yet
you came the whole way from America merely to have a look at
Malmo! And every morning you walk a couple of miles, up to the old
mill, just to get a glimpse of the roofs of Malmo in the distance.
And when you stand over there at the right-hand window and look
out through the third pane from the bottom on the left side, yon
can see the spired turrets of the castle and the tall chimney of
the county jail.--And now I hope you see that it's your own
stupidity rather than my cleverness which has made everything
clear to me.

MR. Y. This means that you despise me?

MR. X. Oh, no!

MR. Y. Yes, you do--you cannot but do it!

MR. X. No--here's my hand.

(MR. Y. takes hold of the outstretched hand and kisses it.)

MR. X. [Drawing back his hand] Don't lick hands like a dog!

MR. Y. Pardon me, sir, but you are the first one who has let me
touch his hand after learning--

MR. X. And now you call me "sir!"--What scares me about you is
that you don't feel exonerated, washed clean, raised to the old
level, as good as anybody else, when you have suffered your
punishment. Do you care to tell me how it happened? Would you?

MR. Y. [Twisting uneasily] Yes, but you won't believe what I say.
But I'll tell you. Then you can see for yourself that I am no
ORDINARY criminal. You'll become convinced, I think, that there
are errors which, so to speak, are involuntary--[twisting again]
which seem to commit themselves--spontaneously--without being
willed by oneself, and for which one cannot be held responsible--
May I open the door a little now, since the storm seems to have
passed over?

MR. X. Suit