hesitates a moment, then exits into the kitchen. The Policeman scrutinises Ficsur mockingly. Ficsur returns his stare, walks a few paces toward him, then deliberately turns his back. Suddenly he wheels around, points at the Policeman and addresses him in a teasing, childish tone.] Christiana Street at the corner of Retti! Policeman [Amazed, self-conscious.] How do you know that? Ficsur I used to practice my profession in that neighborhood. Policeman What is your profession? Ficsur Professor of pianola [The Policeman glares, aware that the man is joking with him, twirls his moustache indignantly. Young Hollunder comes out of the dark room and gives him the finished pictures.] Young Hollunder Here you are, sir. [The Policeman examines the photographs, pays for them, starts to go, stops, glares at Ficsur and exits. When he is gone, Fic-*
