A shadow fell. He looked up to see a girl of perhaps eight years, holding a baby on her hip, staring down curiously. Csongor hooked his arm through the bag’s shoulder strap and stood back up, elevating it up above the level where she could see it, and then pulled it open. She edged around, standing up on tippytoe, trying to look in, and the baby reached out with one saliva-drenched hand and got a grip on the bag’s edge and pulled it down, as if trying to help his big sister satisfy her curiosity. The situation was impossible; Csongor couldn’t very well lay his hand on someone else’s baby. But he really did not want any of these people finding out how much Chinese money they were carrying around.