THE JAIL
I went away with my corporal, and the only thought which passed through my soul was: Thank God that is was not Sieghart. It might have been. Easily. For throughout the period of persecution he was in touch with the Minister of War and National Defence,—they often used to be his evening guests in the Teinfaltstrasse,—he might have spoken a word and I should have been at liberty; thank God that he did not speak. After the arrest of Kramář I went to him to intervene (it was then that his secretary received me), and at that time I did not yet know that he was one of the main instigators of our Czech persecution,—I would have been willing to be under an obligation to anybody else but him. And so l was not,—oh, excellent Frank!
I conducted my defence-corps men back to arrest. The sun, the good sun warmed me, the mild air fondled me,—good heavens, are the hours really numbered to the time I shall be able to pass through this street, a free man, unrestricted by time and space? The street was filled with bustle, its signs of life flitted before my eyes, and I should be able to plunge into these waves and swim where and how I pleased.
We arrived home, they wanted to hand me over to the superintendent, but nobody could be seen anywhere. The door to number 59 was open, there were throngs of uniforms inside. Shouting, talking,—and outside Mr. Kranz was hopping from one foot to the other with a devilish smile; he waved his hands and beckoned me to come and listen.
What was happening? A cross-examination. There was a Lieutenant-Colonel, three Governors, a superintendent, warders. The Lieutenant-Colonel was making ready for an utterance of thunder,—the Governors were cross-examining, somebody was replying, and Mr. Kranz expounded to me the main features of
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