Another instant, and I should have been found. So I came out from behind the pantry door, and crossed the entrance hall.
In the doorway stood a burly policeman, who said "Yok, yok," when I attempted to pass him.
Had I had the requisite nerve I believe I could have bluffed this man. Some phrase with schweinhund in it would probably have got me past. But I hesitated, and was lost.
My hand flew to my breast pocket, where the forged passport lay, and my false moustache.
"Seize that man and search him," said the head detective, looking over the banisters. Then he went upstairs, dragging the woman with him.
My arms were instantly caught from behind, while a seedy-looking youth, who was probably a pick-pocket in his spare time, ran his fingers over my clothes. My wad of money, watch, compass, passport, moustache, everything was put into a small canvas bag, and I was then taken to the opposite corner of the room to that in which my friend sat, and told not to move under pain of death. A levelled revolver emphasised the injunction.
The Author as a Hungarian Mechanic
Presently there were cries of women heard from the attic, then there was a loud crash, and I knew that the third member of our party had fallen through the trapdoor leading to the roof.