Die of Shame [antikvár]

THE VISITOR THE FINAL VISIT 'I didn't think you were coming back,' the prisoner says. He had begun to roll a cigarette as soon as he'd sat down and now he licks the edge of the paper, his eyes fixed on the person in the chair opposite. 'I had a lot of running around to do.' 'Yeah?' 'A bit of detective work, after what you said last time.' He is trying hard not to look nervous, or even particularly interested, struggling to remember exactly what he said all those weeks before. What he might have given away. He says, 'It's rubbish, isn't it? Everything you put in that first letter. The reason you've been coming.' 'Sorry about that.' He slaps his hand on the table, but not in anger. He's just pleased to have been proved right. 'I knew it.' 'What do you care? You'll be out soon enough.' 'Yeah, I knew it first time I saw you.' 'Really?'