Read Online The Darkroom of Damocles by Willem Frederik Hermans - Free Book Online

man who looked very much like me – same sort of face, same height, but with dark hair?’
    â€˜I do wish you’d stop banging on.’
    â€˜I’m not. The thing is, you could have come across this person under an alias.’
    â€˜You still don’t trust me. Is that what you’re getting at?’
    â€˜It’s not a matter of trust. It’s just that I’d like to know if you’ve been in contact with a man who looks very much like me except that he’s dark-haired, the same as me but dark.’
    â€˜Not that I recall.’
    â€˜Strange. You arrived in Holland only yesterday. Not much has happened since, so little that you ought to be able to remember all of it without any trouble.’
    The ticket inspector arrived, Osewoudt explained that they had to dash to catch the train, the inspector didn’t mind and wrote out two tickets, without adding a fine. Osewoudt paid for them.
    When the inspector had left, Elly said: ‘This is the first time in my life I’ve been on a Dutch train.’
    â€˜You mean you’ve never been in Holland before?’
    â€˜No, I haven’t. Soon I’ll be seeing Amsterdam for the first time, too.’
    The railway station was dark. So was Prins Hendrikkade, which they crossed, looking out for the occasional car with blacked-out headlamps like glowing rivets.
    But the white sign saying FÜR WEHRMACHTSANGEHÖRIGE VERBOTEN at the approach to Oudezijds Achterburgwal was as visible as ever.
    â€˜What does it mean?’
    â€˜It means,’ said Osewoudt, ‘that this part of town is unsafe for Germans, which makes it all the safer for us.’
    Uncle Bart answered the door himself.
    â€˜What, no housemaid these days?’ Osewoudt asked.
    â€˜No, there’s no one left,’ said Uncle Bart. ‘What did you expect? That I’d just carry on, sell all my feathers to the Germans? My feathers on every German whore’s hat? I’d rather starve.’
    â€˜So who does the cleaning?’
    â€˜No one. I’ve shut all the rooms. I’ve moved my bed into the office. I have everything to hand, stove, table, bed. What more does an old man need? Come on in.’
    They sat down in the narrow little office on the first floor. Uncle Bart had grown a moustache and his breath was so vile you could smell it even when he wasn’t speaking, or maybe you smelled it constantly because he didn’t keep his mouth shut for more than a second.
    â€˜So you’ve done a runner with a girlfriend, Henri. Doesn’t surprise me in the least. I know exactly what you’ll say: that you’ve had it up to here with Ria, she’s so much older than you … Didn’t I tell you? I always said you shouldn’t get married. Yes indeed, your old uncle here has done a fair bit of reading and studying in his day. Didn’t waste his time in the cinema, the way young folk do nowadays. The laws of natural selection can’t be broken with impunity! Darwin knew that back then. What am I saying? Schopenhauer! What’s the age difference between you and Ria again? Never had proper relations with her, I shouldn’t wonder! Don’t look at me as if you think your old Uncle Bart’s lost his mind! I know full well no other father-in-law would dream of saying such things to his philandering son-in-law! But that’s because most people don’t use their brains, because they refuse to think about nature! Me – I don’t care whether I’m your uncle or your father-in-law, all my life I’ve tried to observe the world with the unprejudiced eye of the naturalist! That has always been my goal!’
    He leaned forward and gave Osewoudt two hard slaps on the knee.
    â€˜She seems a nice enough girl to me,’ he went on. ‘Indeed, a nice girl!’
    He shifted on his chair to get a better view of Elly.
    They climbed the dark spiral staircase.
    â€˜Is he an uncle of