"Do you know anything about those men?" we asked. He turned deathly pale, but swore he had never seen them before. I do not think he had. His fear was genuine. "Let me get out! Let me get out!" he said, making a bolt for the door. And he went. There was no use in trying to stop him. One of my friends and I now went downstairs, while the third member of our party stayed behind to hide a few odds and ends of gear, in case the house was searched. We waited downstairs, making light of our fears, and fighting a premonition of disaster. Presently there was a loud tapping on the door. Even if it were the police, I thought, our disguises would carry us through. Then I noticed that my friend was in shirt-sleeves. I put on my spectacles and tried to stick on my moustache again, but the gum from it had gone. The rapping at the door became louder and louder, and presently it was opened by a flustered female. In trooped six detectives, including the man I had recognised, who was apparently their leader. "There are some British officers hiding here," he said fiercely to the woman; "show me where they are." While this scene was passing in the entrance-hall, we were behind the door of the pantry. A detective came in and caught my friend. Meanwhile two others were pommelling the unfortunate woman to make her say where we were. She kept pleading that she knew nothing about any British officers. 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. [Illustration: 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. That was the last of my freedom for the time. Thus suddenly my five weeks' scheming was ended.