Page:The Jail, Experiences in 1916.pdf/40

 "Why, I am from Bohemia. I did my military service at Hradec Králové."

"Hradec Králové,—a nice town. In the 18th regiment?"

"Yes, the 18th. My colleague understands Czech, too."

The colleague nodded and asked whether Mr. Kolbe would need him or whether he was to go home.

"You can go. There is nothing here." The colleague took his leave.

Mr. Kolbe told me about the domiciliary searches. In the case of authors it is an extremely simple matter; such gentlemen keep all their things together so as to have their eyes on them. But when it comes to professional thieves, to experienced robbers,—the floors had to be taken up, the furniture pulled to pieces, the chimney has to be inspected.

The thunderstorm was over. In the west a radiant topaz light was beginning to shine.

"Still, I must take something from this search to the chief commissary", and Mr. Kolbe looked around him.

"Give him this letter from Switzerland. It has passed the censor,—some unknown Russian asks me to intervene on behalf of his friend who is badly off in an internment camp. And here are a few picture postcards."

"Good, thank you. And you will come with me, won't you?"

"Pepi", I called into the kitchen, "give me quickly my box with the washing, a toothbrush—"

"But what for, what for?" expostulated Mr. Kolbe. "You will be coming back in a short while. It's only a brief cross-examination. Pepička, don't bring anything, but get supper ready for your master", he shouted into the kitchen.

"What on earth can be the matter now?"