Page 108 - the-trial

by the junk room again, he opened its door as if that had
been his habit. Instead of the darkness he expected, he saw
everything unchanged from the previous evening, and did
not know how he should respond. Everything was exactly
the same as he had seen it when he had opened the door the
previous evening. The forms and bottles of ink just inside
the doorway, the whip-man with his cane, the two police-
men, still undressed, the candle on the shelf, and the two
policemen began to wail and call out “Mr. K.!” K. slammed
the door immediately shut, and even thumped on it with his
fists as if that would shut it all the firmer. Almost in tears,
he ran to the servitors working quietly at the copying ma-
chine. “Go and get that junk room cleared out!” he shouted,
and, in amazement, they stopped what they were doing. “It
should have been done long ago, we’re sinking in dirt!” They
would be able to do the job the next day, K. nodded, it was
too late in the evening to make them do it there and then as
he had originally intended. He sat down briefly in order to
keep them near him for a little longer, looked through a few
of the copies to give the impression that he was checking
them and then, as he saw that they would not dare to leave
at the same time as himself, went home tired and with his
mind numb.

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