Double-Barrel Read Free

of the said public, waiting to be noticed andkindly to be allowed to register a child’s birth – but only if the name is approved of by the Handbook for Functionaries of the Civil Status. And finally a light, airy, freshly-painted office.
    The burgomaster got up from his desk when a neat and competent-seeming female showed me in. He had a firm, resilient face; quite the portrait of a burgomaster. He could hang later in some pompous frame, looking down benignly on the couples getting married. Not quite on the same wall as the swimmy-sentimental portraits of royalty, but well up there in the league – presented by a grateful municipality after he retired, handsome and silver-haired. But he did not look a nonentity. I had already decided anyway that he would not be a dud – this was the man in charge of a town scheduled for expansion into a thriving industrial community. In twenty years there would be sixty thousand people here; it was already well on the way and it was his work.
    â€˜Good morning, burgomaster.’
    â€˜Good morning; pleased to make your acquaintance.’ He turned to the secretary, waiting with an alert, impersonal face. ‘Accessible to no one; I am in conference.’
    â€˜Very good, burgomaster.’ The door shut crisply.
    â€˜I have an hour. Sit down, Mr van der Valk; let us get to know each other – and see what we can do for each other.’
    An hour later I had a lot. Access to everything; neat dockets of disturbing information in close detail; assurance of every co-operation; a hearty handshake, and a request for a verbal report twice a week at least – at his home; that would be more discreet. No need to let the municipal officials into our little secret. I was an embarrassment; he would prefer to see as little as possible of me officially. I could see how he disliked this hole-and-corner game – but he had been convinced of its necessity.
    I got passed to the secretary, who was helpful. I had been wondering where on earth I was going to be lodged, andwhat the point of the wife was. Now I found that the wheels had turned, and the hand of the Procureur-Général had reached as far as this tiny tentacle of central government.
    â€˜I have been instructed, Mr van der Valk’ – bright, very efficient and both conscious and proud of it – ‘that you will be staying here a few weeks. You’ll be glad to hear that I’ve a furnished house for you – oh, only a little one, but at least you’ll be independent of hotels. You see, we do quite often have to house officials: inspectors, headmasters; people whose own houses and belongings aren’t yet ready. Or of course people who are here temporarily, as in your case; we’ve had functionaries from The Hague before, doing these administrative surveys. I’m afraid the furniture is rather a scratch lot, but it’s adequate. The house does tend to look as though it had no owner – well, of course, it hasn’t. I do hope your wife will be comfortable – but if there’s any little thing you or she need, you’ve only to ask me. Any help – I’m delighted if I can be of service.’
    Simple as that. In another week, I would be installed, with Arlette and several suitcases, in the Mimosastraat in Zwinderen, province of Drente. Access to everything. I had already arranged for the children to be boarded out, in the house of Inspector and Mrs Suykerland of the Amsterdamse Police. They would get frightful food, but they were delighted with the notion. It all sounded like a holiday. All I had to do was clear up an affair that had not only baffled a lot of people just as intelligent as me, but that had also been trodden on by so many big boots full of flat feet as to be nearly illegible.
5
    I had already been relieved of all ordinary duties – Mr Tak was cross but floored by a minatory letter from the Prinsengracht. By the time we moved, I had spent