Read Online The Exiles Return by Elisabeth de Waal - Free Book Online

staff, the young doctors and technicians. The women were laboratory assistants. Adler shook hands with them in turn, only glancing at their faces, barely taking in their names. His attention was fixed on Dr Krieger, the man who had taken his place. He was short and thick-set, he had very little neck and a mottled face. It looked as if the skin had been drawn too tight over its surface, so that the flesh, with its muscles and blood vessels, showed through. The eyes were hidden behind thick-lensed spectacles and his hair was cropped very close. Whether it was reddish or greyish, one couldn’t tell. He is not much younger than myself, decided Adler, whose own abundant black hair lay in waves across his skull without his attempting to conceal its rich sprinkling of silver.
    Krieger took Adler by the elbow and propelled him down the length of the laboratory, casually pointing to the various pieces of equipment on the way. ‘The best German make – an instrument of absolute precision – we only got it last year, we were lucky, it was stored in a shelter just before the factory was bombed. But we are still without some very necessary apparatus – no hope of it at present, so we have to improvise.’ Dr Krieger spoke in the same way as he moved – in short jerks. Adler looked and nodded and said nothing.
    At the end of the room, encompassing the last window, a glazed partition, projecting a short way from the wall towards the middle, screened off a space into a semblance of semi-privacy. One could see it had been newly erected: the wooden base, of plain deal, was unpainted, and the glass panels freshly set. The cubicle was furnished with a sink, a writing table and chair, a rack of glass receptacles, and a steel filing cabinet. On the table there was a microscope, at which Adler glanced dubiously. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. Krieger answered his silence. ‘A little place of your own, Herr Professor, the best I could manage – to keep your notes and records. For all practical purposes, it’s the general laboratory. I work there myself. Here is my own room –’ and he opened the door from which he had emerged earlier: ‘I have a few instruments – they are at your disposal, of course. And a reference library. There is electricity laid on here, for your use, and a gas-burner. You must tell me what you require, though many things one would like to have are unobtainable. Always the same old story: lack of money.’
    As Adler still just stood there, nodding acquiescence, Krieger suddenly gave vent to his feelings of suppressed annoyance. ‘What are you going to do here, Professor Adler? What are your intentions?’ Why didn’t the man say something, show some appreciation for the preparations made for him! He didn’t need him, he didn’t want him, he would be difficult to fit in, but he had done his best, or rather, he had done what had been required of him, and Adler ought to acknowledge it. So he repeated his question: ‘What do you expect to do ?’
    At last Adler answered: ‘My share of the routine work, Herr Doktor. I suppose there is enough to go round. Tests, analyses, cultures, the ancillary jobs required by the hospital. That is what is expected of me, isn’t it? I shall only try to make myself useful. Later perhaps … but we shall see.’ He broke off. ‘I’ll start tomorrow, if that is convenient. Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Doktor.’ He walked down the long room to the door and went out. Heads turned silently to follow his progress. He felt their eyes on his back, but he did not turn round. He was glad everything had been so matter-of-fact, for he knew he was over-excited. A dose of indifference was what he prescribed for himself; but that, for the moment, was not to be.
    At the bottom of the wide stone staircase the caretaker of the building, a little old man in loose trousers and a well-worn serge jacket, stood looking up at him. Short white hair, a brown wrinkled face and what had once been a trim