Page:The Jail, Experiences in 1916.pdf/152

 fifteen thousand three years, for thirty thousand, four years—so it increased gently, then it stopped and suddenly sank, until it entirely disappeared.

If he had had an opportunity to steal a million, he would have been walking undisturbed along the Ringstrasse, if two million, all the ministers would have been talking to him respectfully, if three million he might have expected some distinction, well, well, a spiteful tongue and an unpleasant man.

"It is for this knowledge apparently that they reckoned him among the intelligent prisoners" said Mr. Fels to me.

And in the following afternoon we received another new specimen. Budi arrived from the office and announced that this time it was really a 'patriot'. His name was Mlacker, but he was a Croat and was hard of hearing. He arrived, looked around at us and at the room, his face became radiant, and he began in a hoarse voice: "Gentlemen, what luck! What luck! For six days I was locked up in a police cell, in darkness, starving, saw nobody, didn't know whether it was night or day, here it is light again, and there are people, people. Gentlemen if I had won the first prize in a Turkish lottery, I could not be happier. Gentlemen, good gentlemen."

Budi spoke to Declich, Papa mumbled something, but went to his larder, took out bread, ham, butter, a box of sardines and a bottle of wine, put it on the table, and Budi invited our new member to eat. Mr. Mlacker began to eat—a concert for the eyes, everybody looked on. He ate, smacked his lips, licked his fingers, returned thanks,—the whole of number 60 was moved. And Budi introduced himself to him in Croatian.—Mr. Mlacker laid down his knife, rolled his eyes, opened his mouth and then shouted: "Perhaps from the family of Budi in Agram"?

"That is my uncle."