Page:The Jail, Experiences in 1916.pdf/94

 We received a new member. A reddish, freckled man in a light overcoat entered the room, looked around him and came up to us. A censorist. In eyes, features, voice—a Jew. He asked whether he could write and send off a post-card from here.

To whom?

To a lady. He had an appointment with her that day.

Impossible. Writing was allowed only on Sundays.

Then he would telegraph.

Impossible. Until he had undergone his cross-examination, he must not think of any connections with the outside world.

But perhaps the warder would—?

We advised him not to.

He only wanted to tell her that he could not come for several days at present, and that he was in a sanatorium

"Sanatoriurn is an old-fashioned phrase, we speak of an Orphan Asylum", I explained to him solemnly.

He wanted to know why I was there.

"I circulated boxes of sardines, in the belief that they contained sardines, but it was discovered that they were bombs with nitroglycerine. So they took them away from me and I am now under remand on a charge of endangering the safety of weak-minded persons in accordance with paragraph 7,580."

He introduced himself: “Editor Dr. Smrecsanyi."

Budi burst out laughing: "And what was your name before?"

The editor laughed too.

Well, he did not spoil the joke.

"Editor of what?"

"Of the Reichspost."

Of the Reichspost? Good heavens, Immortal Nemesis,—at least this much…