Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol4, 1920.pdf/336

“The most black-yellow politician in Austria,” I went on eagerly, “for fifteen years he has had a thoroughly hellish time amongst us for that very reason.”

“Well, you will see what his Austrianism amounts to. You were with him in the Crimea,—were you in touch there with Russian personalities?”

“With persons certainly, with personalities never.”

“Of course, you were there seventeen years ago. You like the Russians?”

“Russian literature above all, the Russian peasant extremely, Tzarism less.”

“You see we know all about you,” declared Preminger triumphantly. “And the English?”

“Sir, if I were an Englishman, I should not have the pleasure of your visit in my house.”

Preminger laughed.

“Look, that’s the one,” and the taciturn person pointed out to him some signature in a letter.

Preminger nodded.

“Ležė again?” said I pointedly.

“What is the Volná Myšlenka?’ ’asked Preminger instead of replying. “A society?”

“No, an association.”

“Well, that is a society.”

“An association. A society and an associaiton are two different things.”

“You were honorary President of this society, weren’t you?”

“Yes I was honorary President of this association.”

“Which wages war against all religions?”

“Which waged war against clericalism. Waged it, for immediately at the beginning of the war its activities both as regards issuing periodicals and publishing books were stopped.”

“Have you any papers, documents from which it would be possible to learn what were the real aims of the association?”

“I will lend you a few volumes of the paper it issued, but you will return them to me.”

“Certainly, and with thanks.”

I found two volumes for him.

“Mr. Kolbe, look, here is a poem Franz II; tell me what its about,” remarked the taciturn person turning to the agent.

It was a poem which had once been published in the paper called “Neruda.”

“There is nothing in it. Very nice patriotic verses. About how the soldiers fight for the Emperor?” remarked Mr. Kolbe.

The taciturn person scratched his head; “Why should Mr. M. write patriotic verses? and about Franz II?”

“Lieutenant,” I said shaking my finger at him, “I must point out that by your last question—”

The taciturn person reddened angrily.

“The Lord knows that my back is already aching,” said the Captain coming to his assistance.

It had grown dark. The chauffeur came up to say that there was no lamp on the car and that they must go. I pulled out a number of new bundles.

“That’s enough gentlemen,” announced Dr. Preminger, “we will go. What do you want to take?” he said turning to the taciturn person.

“This,” he pointed to it, “and this and this.” There were about eight bundles.

“There will be no room in the car, there are four of us,” explained Preminger.

“Are you taking me with you?” I asked,—I had completely forgotten the volunteer officer in the next room.

“Oh, no, no, no,” said Preminger deprecatingly. “But where are we to put this litter?”

“I will lend you a trunk if you will let me have it back,” I offered.

“There is one more room?’ ’asked the Captain pointing to the closed door.

“Yes, my wife and daughter are there,” and I made as if to open.

“No, we won’t go there, we have nothing to do with your ladies,” announced Preminger.

“Ready?” asked the Captain.

“Yes. Just a report that we have completed the search, and we must tie the bundles together a little. Hi, officer.”

I lent them a trunk. The volunteer officer tied up the bundles. Suddenly he said to Preminger: “Lieutenant, this knight has the red and white colors on his shield.”

On the wall hung Schwaiger’s picture “The Long, the Broad and the Sharp-Sighted.” The knight who is riding across the foot-bridge has actually got a red and white shield. The volunteer officer fastened his little foxy eyes upon it.

“Lieutenant,” he pointed out afresh, “has it any special significance that the colors there are red and white?”

“Keep quiet, and see about getting ready,” snarled the Captain.

The foxy little eyes were lowered with injured reluctance and the little volunteer officer went on packing and tying up.

The report was read in a minute. I made it as easy for them as possible. I did not want the letters to be counted, I brought the trunk, the twine, the packing paper,—when a man has had such guests for five whole hours in his house, he has a slight desire for solitude and peace at the end of it.

“I draw your attention to the fact,” I remarked to Preminger, “that the search has been very incomplete; here are several thousand books, and there might be a treasonable document in every one of them.”

“You haven’t got the Tzar’s manifesto?”

“No.”

“We are ready. Tomorrow you will kindly appear at Hernalser Guertel, No. 126, room 89, for cross-examination. A few trifles. At 9 o’clock please.”

“I shall certainly come.”

They gave me their hands, clicked their heels Mr. Kolbe and the little volunteer officer carried