would know, of course, at the station that a policeman had run past at the last minute.  I wanted to get rid of the coat and cap, but the man was there, and I didn’t like to move out of the carriage for other people to notice.  So I sat on.  We came to St. Polten at last.  The man in my carriage took his bag, got out, and left his paper on the seat.  We started again; I breathed at last, and as soon as I could took the cap and coat and threw them out into the darkness.  I thought:  ’I shall get across the frontier now.’  I took my own cap out and found the moustache Luigi gave me; rubbed my clothes as clean as possible; stuck on the moustache, and with some little ends of chalk in my pocket made my eyebrows light; then drew some lines in my face to make it older, and pulled my cap well down above my wig.  I did it pretty well—­I was quite like the man who had got out.  I sat in his corner, took up his newspaper, and waited for Amstetten.  It seemed a tremendous time before we got there.  From behind my paper I could see five or six policemen on the platform, one quite close.  He opened the door, looked at me, and walked through the carriage into the corridor.  I took some tobacco and rolled up a cigarette, but it shook, Harz lifted the ivy twig, like this.  In a minute the conductor and two more policemen came.  ‘He was here,’ said the conductor, ‘with this gentleman.’  One of them looked at me, and asked:  ‘Have you seen a policeman travelling on this train?’ ‘Yes,’ I said.  ‘Where?’ ‘He got out at St. Polten.’  The policeman asked the conductor:  ‘Did you see him get out there?’ The conductor shook his head.  I said:  ‘He got out as the train was moving.’  ‘Ah!’ said the policeman, ‘what was he like?’ ‘Rather short, and no moustache.  Why?’ ‘Did you notice anything unusual?’ ‘No,’ I said, ’only that he wore coloured trousers.  What’s the matter?’ One policeman said to the other:  ’That’s our man!  Send a telegram to St. Polten; he has more than an hour’s start.’  He asked me where I was going.  I told him:  ‘Linz.’  ‘Ah!’ he said, ’you’ll have to give evidence; your name and address please?’ ‘Josef Reinhardt, 17 Donau Strasse.’  He wrote it down.  The conductor said:  ‘We are late, can we start?’ They shut the door.  I heard them say to the conductor:  ’Search again at Linz, and report to the Inspector there.’  They hurried on to the platform, and we started.  At first I thought I would get out as soon as the train had left the station.  Then, that I should be too far from the frontier; better to go on to Linz and take my chance there.  I sat still and tried not to think.