“How should I, an Englishman, know the names of the Warsaw police?”
He laughed at this first and then said meaningly, “Not of all the police, of course. But mine is well known.”
“Is it? I don’t envy you your reputation, all the same.”
“Ah, you have no sympathy with the police.”
“A kind of sport in which I’d rather be hunted than hunter.”
He smiled. “That’s good. I like your way,” he replied; and then lowering his voice and speaking earnestly, he added: “Is this visit to Headquarters likely to be serious for you? Are you suspect?”
“One would scarcely go to such a place on a night like this from choice, I suppose?” I answered lightly.
“There’s a lot of trouble brewing in the streets and it would be easy for a man to get away from a single guard.”
After a bribe, I concluded. “Will you smoke?” I asked him and handed him a cigar. We stood to light up and as the match flared between us our eyes met. “Why do you say this?”
“As a peasant farmer, friend,” he laughed.