“Your name, monsieur.”
“Shan’t tell you. I’m an American, that’s enough. Don’t you interfere with me,” he said threateningly; and made as if to go on.
Half a dozen hands were thrust out instantly to stop him. One man tried to see more of his face and was glancing at a paper. He whispered something to his colleague, who asked—
“Will you raise your hat, monsieur?”
“No, I won’t.”
“You cannot pass, monsieur.”
“We’ll see about that;” and he drew his hands from his pockets and clenched his fists. I really feared he was going to show fight.
“Will you step this way, if you please, monsieur?” said an elderly man coming forward. Apparently a man in higher authority.
“What for?” asked Siegel brusquely.
“There has probably been some mistake which I can put right for you,” was the suavely spoken reply. “You can then resume your journey.”