THE JAIL
was standing in front of the building. Also, some man or other was cautiously following me, not leaving me out of his sight; I had not noticed him previously.
Already? I thought to myself. And why can it be? I did not know, but the continual feeling of uncertainty such as was possessed at that time by every man whose language was Czech, had not left me since the arrest of Dr. Kramář. Perhaps it was some accusation,—at that time they were showering down like drops of rain in spring,—perhaps it was my mere existence, perhaps it was as Dr. Herben put it: some General or other is sitting down looking at a map, you pass by him and sneeze, the General turns round and you are immediately guilty of the crime of interfering with military operations,—well, it was possible that l had sneezed in this way,—who knows? We shall see.
I entered the house, the little fellow from the street behind me.
In the room there were three officers, a captain, two lieutenants and a little volunteer officer, obviously a Jew, with a foxy look. They clicked their heels and introduced themselves. "Lieutenant Dr. Preminger" said a man of medium size with scanty fair hair and pale blue eyes. So that is he.
"What do you want, gentlemen?"
"Could we see the letters that you have from Dr. Kramář? And could we have a general look around among your things? Here is the written order. "And Preminger handed me a paper.
A stamp, a signature, a hectographed text, only the name and address written in. "Certainly."
The man from the street stood in the anteroom. "Nobody is allowed to leave the house", Dr. Preminger instructed him.
Out of a box I took a bundle of letters which Dr. Kramář had written to me from the Crimea sixteen or seventeen years ago,
25
