The man put the money into his pocket and mumbled, “Don’t you know any better than to come so long after the gates closed!”
He was stretching his arms and yawning. His jaws opened and closed sleepily as he spoke.
“We are coming a long way,” the driver explained. “Couldn’t figure on the exact hour.”
“How many Jews have you?”
“Just one.”
The guard walked up to the wagon, raised his lantern, and strained his eyes.
“Huh! What do you call this, a suckling?” pointing at Albert, who stared around him in bewilderment.
“He is the gentleman’s son,” explained the coachman.
“You didn’t bring his cradle along—Huh! When a Jew reaches the age of twelve he is just as much of one for poll tax as he will be at seventy-five. We call it two Jews—huh! One Jew, he says! You can’t fool me!”
“How much is it?” Zorn opened his purse, the guard holding the lantern to help him see the contents.