“Think of it!” I said. “If you’d been where you were two weeks after you were there, or if the Russians had been a hundred miles away from where they were, or even if Fryzzl had been a hundred miles nearer to Izzl—”
We both shuddered.
“It was a close call,” said Parkins. “However, I said to Loo Jones, ‘Loo, it’s time to clear out.’ And then, I tell you, our trouble began. First of all we couldn’t get any money. We went to the bank at Izzl and tried to get them to give us American dollars for Hungarian paper money; we had nothing else.”
“And wouldn’t they?”
“Absolutely refused. They said they hadn’t any.”
“By George,” I exclaimed. “Isn’t war dreadful? What on earth did you do?”
“Took a chance,” said Parkins. “Went across to the railway station to buy our tickets with the Hungarian money.”
“Did you get them?” I said.
“Yes,” assented Parkins. “They said they’d sell us tickets. But they questioned us mighty closely; asked where we wanted to go to, what class we meant to travel by, how much luggage we had to register and so on. I tell you the fellow looked at us mighty closely.”
“Were you in those clothes?” I asked.