Chapter 3
You Can Always Duck
SEITZEN stood looking out of the window. Outside the rain descended in sheets. The grass patch between the cottage and the woods was soaked, the shrubs broken and bedraggled. The sound of the steam whistle of a train rumbling in the direction of Dublin made the twilight even more dolorous.
Seitzen murmured: "This is one hell of a country when it rains."
He turned from the window. He was short, squat, heavy. The raincoat he was wearing seemed too large for him. The sleeves almost covered his hands. His face was round and his jowls hung almost over his collar. He wore horn-rimmed spectacles. He looked studious and unpleasant.
Hiltsch, who was sitting at the table writing, said:
"It looks bad when it's not raining. Everywhere looks bad to me." He smiled rue
