"Well, well, Hloucek," said the gate keeper soothingly, as he stepped aside from the wide open gate, "haven't I been waiting for you? no one is hindering you; you stayed behind of your own accord."
"Such a factory ought to be sunk to h—," and a new and more emphatic oath shook the broad chest of the laborer. "I couldn't find my cap, such order as there is here. It's long after seven, and here I am still."
"Well, go on, go on," urged the gate keeper, pointing to the open gate.
"The very first second after seven belongs to me," still growled the laborer, casting an angry look upon the gate keeper. "To-morrow I shall call on you to testify that I was here after working hours; I'll expect something for it. No one has any right to deprive me of a single moment of my time. You plague us all the time, in every way you can; you drive us into the traps of the police and the courts; we have to fight for our rights, and we'll fight hard, too!"
The gate keeper, with a troubled look, watched the departing figure of the irate workman until he disappeared around the corner.
Hloucek did not go far. A few yards from the corner he passed through the gateway of a large building, and entered the dark court encircled by dwelling apartments, as one might judge from the numerous doors and windows. On the threshold of one of them sat a young man, dressed much as was Hloucek. As the latter approached he rose and they entered the house together.
"Didn't I have a siege of it?" he began as soon as both were inside. "He kept me there from half past two till now, cross-questioning me without mercy. I was put to my wit's end to keep out of the traps he set for me. They know a good deal, still they don't know the main points. He tried his best to catch me, but I kept a sharp lookout on what I said. As for those books, I said they didn't belong to us, that we found 'em in the house when we moved here; and about that conversation over our beer that time, I said that I couldn't recollect it at all, that whoever reported it must have been mistaken in the parties, that we didn't even understand such things.
"I said as little as possible, and when I had to answer, I was as stupid as I could be. Since he let me off I don't believe he'll send for you at all. But we've got to be careful; that man is deuced sharp: sometimes he rattles a fellow so that he doesn't leave him a leg to stand on!"
"Well, you are home again, anyhow," said Hloucek as he gave his comrade a vigorous slap upon the shoulder. "We'll take an extra glass on the strength of it," and opening the door of the entry in which the stood, he called:
"Fana, here's some change, make haste and fetch us a pitcher of beer, and some ham—drudgery's over for to-day."
He handed his wife a florin, and she went out, carrying a large earthen pitcher. The men entered the room that she had left. It was Hloucek's home. The opposite door opened into the room occupied by Vojta Sykora, Hloucek's associate in the factory. They rented the rooms together. Sykora was unmarried and boarded with the Hlouceks.
The entry between the apartments was utilized as a sort of lodging for strangers. They usually came in the evening after nine, and left in the early morning; they slept on the bare floor and paid five kreutzers apiece for the accommodation.
From November till May this little hall was filled to overflowing with lodgers, mostly laboring men, so that the income from this was sufficient to cover the rent for all the rooms for the whole year. In the summer they had the entry for their own use, which was fortunate just now, as on account of the socialistic agitation among the factory laborers they were closely watched by the police, who had several times searched the rooms for prohibited papers and books. The keeping of strange lodgers would have increased the suspicion of them. On this occasion they congratulated themselves that they were alone.
"A person can't even trust all laboring
