It had taken many years for the healing power of time to weaken and blunt the pain, to push it aside and screen it off with new events, new cares, disappointments and joys. But even so, the memory of it often broke through and he saw the incident in every humiliating detail. Like today. He got out at the small park in front of the doctor’s house without saying a word to his driver — that meant the car had to wait for him.
The Doctor’s brother was a widower and he occupied an entire three-room flat on the third floor all on his own. The stone steps that the Rector walked up ended at a massive door with a cast-bronze handle and a bronze plaque with the occupant’s name and title. The bell was bronze too, and it jangled when he turned the decorative handle protruding from the spot where the
