He needed advice. He told Zusel. Zusel listened, asked for the knife, was given it from underground still in its newspaper, and told Dovid it no longer existed. And never had. Dovid had had an awful dream. As for Evsey and his panicky disposition, time would tell. Zusel said: “What’s in the ground doesn’t exist. But you took it and brought it into being. It’s your own fault.”
A little while later Evsey shot himself.
I listened carefully and asked a further question:
“But where did you get the idea it had anything to do with me? I wasn’t even in town that day. But you’ve been shouting it from the rooftops, here, there and everywhere. Planning to write letters.”
“It was Laevskaya’s explanation, that it was all to do with you.”
Dovid shifted his gaze from the sky to me and gave me an aff
