THE JAIL
"I watch the theatre of humanity. I am locked up with murderers, thieves and robbers, who regard me as a colleague; I observe them, listen to them, and I warrant you that this worthy authority here, with all his apparatus, will never obtain as much information from them as I possess—"
"I admit that" said Frank smiling, and he displayed the gold strips in his fine teeth.
"To give you at least some specimens" I continued, "the king of Magyar pickpockets, a man who has murdered his wife and mother-in-law, a man who has stolen motor-car wheels—"
"This will make a book" remarked Dr. Šámal.
"And I shall cut a pretty figure in it" smiled Frank.
"Well,—according to your deserts."
"And to whom would you dedicate it?" asked Šámal.
"Possibly to the worthy authority here. He has deserved well of me. For two months he has supplied me with lodgings, illumination all night, heating, estimable society,—just because of four small poems."
"I think there were other reasons" remarked Dr. Šámal, "and influence from above, and very powerful hands—"
Frank smiled mysteriously.
"Whichever it may be,—here I am, and the immediate Government organ which I am holding on to, and which is holding on to me, is the worthy authority here. By the way, I have drawn up a neat and skilful scheme for a court-martial,—would you like to hear it? May I tell it?"
Frank smiled and nodded.
"Well then, a man is walking along the street, or is sitting in his office (my case),—suddenly a detective comes up and informs him that he is arrested. Why? The examining superintendent will
195
