Outraged, I tried to demand an explanation, but the words stuck in my throat as my first, instinctive assumption that these men were robbers began to wobble precariously.
“I hope,” Lajos said conversationally at last, “that you have proper authority for this.”
Police, I thought with a powerful jolt of fear for him. Dear God, what did he have in that wretched bag today?
“Every authority we need,” the first man snapped. His companion threw the contents of the bag down on the seat between them, one at a time — a newspaper; a large, dull-looking book; a sheaf of papers, quickly rifled and discarded; a half-eaten piece of bread and cheese, gingerly removed between thumb and forefinger.
“Sorry,” Lajos said apologetically. “If you’d given me warning, I’d have cleaned up for you. Incidentally,
