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self-deception.’
    ‘Then why respond to my question with a rebuke?’
    ‘Because I cannot give you the answer you expect, the answer that would confirm your medical prejudices and give me hope. Has anyone else seen my doppelgänger? The answer regretfully is yes. Herr Polster.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Herr Polster. He’s the publican of a beer cellar in Simmering. A place called The Chimney Sweep.’ Erstweiler paused, glanced at the door, took a deep breath and continued: ‘On my way back home fromwork, I occasionally stop off at The Chimney Sweep for some light refreshment; however, I never go there on Wednesday nights — the reason being that it is on this day that we take deliveries at the warehouse and I must must stay late to check the stock, prepare an inventory, and write letters if everything is not in order. About two weeks ago, I was in The Chimney Sweep and Herr Polster came to my table and said something like: Back again, so soon? I thought nothing of it. But during the course of our conversation he kept on referring to things that I had no recollection of ever having said. I took this to be some kind of joke and did not react. However, Herr Polster persisted and eventually I became quite annoyed. I demanded: When, when did I say that? And he replied, Last night, of course! Which was, as I am sure you have already guessed, a Wednesday. I lost my temper and to my surprise Herr Polster responded with no small amount of embarrassment and confusion. He then made light of my reaction, reminded me that I had drunk rather more than usual and promised he would be discreet. It became clear to me then that Herr Polster wasn’t joking at all. As far as he was concerned, I really had been to The Chimney Sweep the night before. Which I realised could mean but one thing.’
    ‘Your doppelgänger?’
    ‘Indeed.’
    ‘From your conversation with Herr Polster, were you able to ascertain what the double said?’
    ‘I was left with the impression of a person considerably more ill-mannered than myself — a lewd individual.’
    Erstweiler’s face reddened.
    ‘In what way?’
    ‘Is it really necessary that I tell you everything, Herr doctor?’ Liebermann allowed the silence to build. ‘Oh, very well,’ Erstweilermuttered. ‘From Herr Polster’s comments, I realised that my doppelgänger had made remarks about the desirability of Frau Milena, the wife of my landlord, Kolinsky.’
    Liebermann leaned forward.
    ‘What is she like? Frau Milena?’
    ‘She is a very attr—’ Erstweiler stopped himself from saying ‘attractive’ and continued, ‘sweet-natured person. Kolinsky really doesn’t appreciate her. Indeed, I have to say the man is something of a brute. He comes home drunk and shouts at her … and sometimes I hear noises — as if she’s being pushed around.’
    ‘What do you do when that happens?’
    ‘I go downstairs to ask if everything is all right. And Frau Milena says, Yes, Herr Erstweiler, everything is well, I am sorry about the noise. Or Bozidar isn’t feeling well, or I tripped and fell, or some such nonsense. And old Kolinsky just sits there, grunting and waving his hand in the air. At least it settles down after I make such an appearance, which must be appreciated by Frau Milena. But I’ve often asked myself What’s the point of intervening? — it only starts up again a few days later. They say it’s unwise to get involved in domestic arguments and I can see why. Besides, marriage is supposed to be holy. We are advised not to come between a man and woman who have been joined together by God.’
    Liebermann made a note: Resists admitting Frau Milena attractive? Why?
    ‘Do you believe that?’ asked Liebermann. ‘That marriage reflects the will of God?’
    ‘I don’t know. It’s what we’re told. Or perhaps I’m just making excuses. Perhaps I should do more for Frau Milena? Perhaps I should have words with old Kolinsky.’
    ‘Threaten him?’
    Erstweiler sat up, his gaze suddenly fixed