'Here,' said the doctor. 'Your friend. You tell him,'he said as a parting snipe, 'he pay more, or tomorrow heleaves.'

Locke peered through the glass partition. The grubby-white room was empty, but for a bed and a small table,lit by the same dingy light that cursed every wretchedinch of this establishment. Stumpf was not on the bed,but squatting on the floor in the corner of the room.His left eye was covered with a bulbous padding, heldin place by a bandage ineptly wrapped around his head.

Locke was looking at the man for a good time beforeStumpf sensed that he was watched. He looked upslowly. His good eye, as if in compensation for theloss of its companion, seemed to have swelled to twiceits natural size. It held enough fear for both it and itstwin; indeed enough for a dozen eyes.

Cautiously, like a man whose bones are so brittle hefears an injudicious breath will shatter them, Stumpfedged up the wall, and crossed to the door. Hedid not open it, but addressed Locke through theglass.

'Why didn't you come?' he said.

Tm here.'

'But sooner,' said Stumpf. His face was raw, as if he'dbeen beaten. 'Sooner.'

'I had business,' Locke returned. 'What happened toyou?'

'It's true, Locke,' the German said, 'everything istrue.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Tetelman told me. Cherrick's babblings. About beingexiles. It's true. They mean to drive us out.'

'We're not in the jungle now,' Locke said. 'You've gotnothing to be afraid of here.'

'Oh yes,' said Stumpf, that wide eye wider than ever.'Oh yes! I saw him -'

'Who?'

'The elder. From the village. He was here.'

'Ridiculous.'

'He was here, damn you,' Stumpf replied. 'He wasstanding where you're standing. Looking at me throughthe glass.'

'You've been drinking too much.'

'It happened to Cherrick, and now it's happening tome. They're making it impossible to live -'

Locke snorted. Tm not having any problem,' hesaid.

'They won't let you escape,' Stumpf said. 'None ofus'll escape. Not unless we make amends.'

'You've got to vacate the room,' Locke said, unwillingto countenance any more of this drivel. 'I've been toldyou've got to get out by morning.'

'No,' said Stumpf. 'I can't leave. I can't leave.'

'There's nothing to fear.'

'The dust,' said the German. The dust in the air. It'llcut me up. I got a speck in my eye - just a speck - and thenext thing my eye's bleeding as though it'll never stop. Ican't hardly lie down, the sheet's like a bed of nails. Thesoles of my feet feel as if they're going to split. You'vegot to help me.'

'How?' said Locke.

'Pay them for the room. Pay them so I can stay 'til youcan get a specialist from Sao Luis. Then go back to thevillage, Locke. Go back and tell them. I don't want theland. Tell them I don't own it any longer.'

Til go back,' said Locke, 'but in my good time.'

'You must go quickly,' said Stumpf. 'Tell them to letme be.'

Suddenly, the expression on the partially-maskedface changed, and Stumpf looked past Locke at somespectacle down the corridor. From his mouth, slack withfear, came the small word, 'Please.'

Locke, mystified by the man's expression, turned.The corridor was empty, except for the fat moths thatwere besetting the bulb. 'There's nothing there -' hesaid, turning back to the door of Stumpf s room. Thewire-mesh glass of the window bore the distinct imprintof two bloody palms.

'He's here,' the German was saying, staring fixedly atthe miracle of the bleeding glass. Locke didn't need toask who. He raised his hand to touch the marks. Thehandprints, still wet, were on his side of the glass, noton Stumpf s.

'My God,' he breathed. How could anyone haveslipped between him and the door and laid the printsthere, sliding away again in the brief moment it hadtaken him to glance behind him? It defied reason.Again he looked back down the corridor. It was stillbereft of visitors. Just the bulb - swinging slightly, as ifa breeze of passage had caught it - and the moth's wings,whispering. 'What's happening?' Locke breathed.

Stumpf, entranced by the handprints, touched hisfingertips lightly to the glass. On contact, his fingersblossomed blood, trails of which idled down the glass.He didn't remove his fingers, but stared through atLocke with despair in his eye.

'See?' he said, very quietly.

'What are you playing at?' Locke said, his voicesimilarly hushed. This is some kind of trick.'

'No.'

'You haven't got Cherrick's disease. You can't have.You didn't touch them. We agreed, damn you,' he said,more heatedly. 'Cherrick touched them, we didn't.'

Stumpf looked back at Locke with something close topity on his face.

'We were wrong,' he said gently. His fingers, whichhe had now removed from the glass, continued tobleed, dribbling across the backs of his hands anddown his arms. 'This isn't something you can beat intosubmission, Locke. It's out of our hands.' He raised hisbloody fingers, smiling at his own word-play: 'See?' hesaid.

The German's sudden, fatalistic calm frightenedLocke. He reached for the handle of the door, andjiggled it. The room was locked. The key was on theinside, where Stumpf had paid for it to be.

'Keep out,' Stumpf said. 'Keep away from me.'

His smile had vanished. Locke put his shoulder to thedoor.

'Keep out, I said,' Stumpf shouted, his voice shrill. Hebacked away from the door as Locke took another lungeat it. Then, seeing that the lock must soon give, he raiseda cry of alarm. Locke took no notice, but continued tothrow himself at the door. There came the sound of woodbeginning to splinter.

Somewhere nearby Locke heard a woman's voice,raised in response to Stumpf s calls. No matter; he'dhave his hands on the German before help could come,and then, by Christ, he'd wipe every last vestige of asmile from the bastard's lips. He threw himself againstthe door with increased fervour; again, and again. Thedoor gave.

In the antiseptic cocoon of his room Stumpf felt thefirst blast of unclean air from the outside world. Itwas no more than a light breeze that invaded hismakeshift sanctuary, but it bore upon its back thedebris of the world. Soot and seeds, flakes of skinitched off a thousand scalps, fluff and sand and twistsof hair; the bright dust from a moth's wing. Motes sosmall the human eye only glimpsed them in a shaftof white sunlight; each a tiny, whirling speck quiteharmless to most living organisms. But this cloud waslethal to Stumpf; in seconds his body became a field oftiny, seeping wounds.

He screeched, and ran towards the door to slam itclosed again, flinging himself into a hail of minute razors,each lacerating him. Pressing against the door to preventLocke from entering, his wounded hands erupted. Hewas too late to keep Locke out anyhow. The man hadpushed the door wide, and was now stepping through,his every movement setting up further currents of air tocut Stumpf down. He snatched hold of the German'swrist. At his grip the skin opened as if beneath a knife.

Behind him, a woman loosed a cry of horror. Locke,realizing that Stumpf was past recanting his laughter,let the man go. Adorned with cuts on every exposedpart of his body, and gaining more by the moment,Stumpf stumbled back, blind, and fell beside the bed.The killing air still sliced him as he sank down; with eachagonised shudder he woke new eddies and whirlpools toopen him up.

Ashen, Locke retreated from where the body lay, andstaggered out into the corridor. A gaggle of onlookersblocked it; they parted, however, at his approach, toointimidated by his bulk and by the wild look on hisface to challenge him. He retraced his steps through thesickness-perfumed maze, crossing the small courtyardand returning into the main building. He briefly caughtsight of Edson Costa hurrying in pursuit, but did notlinger for explanations.