"I really beg your pardon," said Lady Rety, very humbly, for she saw at once that her zeal had led her too far, and that she was not now addressing her husband,—"I am a woman, and my unfortunate circumstances—and——"
"All this is very fine, my lady," retorted Mr. Catspaw, emboldened by his success; "but your ladyship talks always advisedly. All I can do is to look out for another place. A solicitor whom his employers suspect——"
"But who tells you that we suspect you?" entreated Lady Rety. "It is you on whom we rely. What could we do without you? Besides, you know our promise about the grant."
"As for the grant," muttered Mr. Catspaw in a milder tone, "the Lord knows I toil not for the sake of gain; but if, for my faithful service—ob fidelia servitia—you will remember me, I am sure my gratitude will outlast my life."
"I know that your generous mind scorns to be selfish; but for all that it is a fine grant, and though its value is as nothing to your services, still it is a splendid property."
"And I will obtain it, in spite of a thousand obstacles!" exclaimed the solicitor.
The lady sighed. "Are you still confident? As for me, I have no hope!"
"But why? because our first attempt had no success? This is mere childishness. Consider: the man who broke into Vandory's house was as expert a thief as any. To avert suspicion, I instructed him to take not only the papers which your ladyship wants, but also some money and trinkets—it made the affair look like a bonâ fide robbery. But the fellow did not find any money, and while he was rummaging the drawers, the curate came home and alarmed the neighbours. Tzifra had not time to look for the papers; all he could do was to escape through the window. Those papers are at present in Tengelyi's house, who, I am informed, keeps them in the iron safe near the door, with his own papers and the parish records. I pledge my word that we find them, and perhaps something else, for I have an account to settle with that notary."
"But the notary's house is much frequented. I tremble lest Tzifra should be caught."
"In that case we will hang him fast enough," said Mr. Catspaw, with great composure; "God be praised! the county has the Statarium."
"But supposing he were to confess?"
"Oh! he won't confess. Leave me to manage that; and if he were to attempt it, I promise you he shall be hanged before he can do it."
"Oh, if you could but know,"—cried Lady Rety—"if you could but know what it costs me to take this step; and when I consider—that—but who can help it? The honour of my name, the welfare of my children—all that which makes life worth having, compels me——"
"A mother shrinks from no sacrifice for her children's sake!" said Mr. Catspaw, wiping his eyes, for the darkness allowed him to dispense with tears. "Nobody," continued he, "knows the goodness of your heart as I do; but, Lady Rety, if the world could know it, it would go down on its knees before you!"
"God forbid!" cried Lady Rety, alarmed but still pleased; for she was happy to see the ease with which so ugly a thing as theft undoubtedly is could be brought to assume the more grateful names of motherly devotion and generosity of feeling. "God forbid that any body besides you and I should know of this matter. The world is severe in its judgments, and perhaps it might be said——"
The lady did not finish her sentence. She was astonished, for she felt herself blush.
Mr. Catspaw understood the feelings of his patroness. "Why should you thus torment yourself?" said he. "It is an every-day affair, to say the worst of it. Such things are so common in Hungary, that nobody ever thinks twice of them, excepting perhaps the party who fancies he is aggrieved. Title deeds, mortgage deeds, and promissory notes are lost somehow or other; but who cares? The present case is not half so bad—for what are the papers your ladyship wishes to possess? Why, they are simply some confidential letters, most of them in the sheriff's own handwriting, which you have an objection to leave in the hands of strangers. The matter is most innocent, though the manner is perhaps in a way open to objection."
"Yes! yes! the manner!" sighed Lady Rety. "It is house-breaking—robbery—Heaven knows how they might call it!"
"It is indeed burglary," observed the man of the law; "but who is the burglar? The man who actually breaks into the house, I should hope. Suppose A. talks to B., who, though not a very respectable character, is not at the time under any criminal prosecution, and whom the law consequently supposes to be an honest man; and suppose A. tells B., in the course of conversation, of a certain packet of papers in a certain closet in Mr. Vandory's house, which packet of papers A. wishes to possess, either from curiosity, or caprice, or for some scientific purpose; and suppose A. were to remark, quite incidentally of course, that he would gladly give one hundred florins to any man who should bring him the said packet: suppose all this, and tell me whether such a conversation could be called criminal? Of course not. Very well then; now suppose A. adds that the curate is to be from home on Saturday night, he being asked to take supper at the manor-house, and that it has been observed that the door which leads to the garden is never locked, and that there was indeed danger of some dishonest person scaling the garden wall and committing the abominable crime of stealing the said papers,—than which indeed nothing could be more easy; suppose A., who is something of a gossip, says all this in the course of conversation, is there anything criminal in mentioning a neighbour's imprudence? By no means. Well then, and if B. is wicked enough to abuse A.'s confidence, if B. scales the garden wall, enters the house and steals the packet—can you accuse poor A. of having committed a robbery? And if B. takes the packet to A.—thereby reminding A. of his promise to pay a certain sum of money to any man who should bring the packet—is not A. bound to abide by his word? That is my case. As an honest man, I pay the money; the rest does not concern me."
"You are quite right," said Lady Rety; "but the world judges differently."
"Of course the world does; but then it is always wrong. However, the world will never know of this business."
"I, too, should think so, if those papers were still at Vandory's," returned Lady Rety; "but they are at Tengelyi's. His house is much frequented; besides, there is a watchman at night."
"True, but the papers are in an iron safe; and though there are but two keys to the said safe, there are plenty of locksmiths in the world."
Here the conversation was interrupted by young Rety's retriever breaking through the brushwood and running up to Lady Rety.
"My son is come home," said she; "let us go to the house." She was in the act of going when the manner and the barking of the dog directed her attention to the thicket, and to a slight rustling among the branches. The dog advanced, but returned, after a few minutes, yelping and limping. Akosh Rety and his sister, Etelka, came up at that moment and joined the pale and trembling pair.
"What is the matter?" said Akosh.
"Did you not hear any thing?" replied his mother.
"Of course! My retriever barked. There must be a dog or a fox somewhere."
"No, young gentleman," cried Mr. Catspaw, with his eyes still directed to the spot whence the noise had proceeded, "I'll stake my life on it, it was a man."
"Perhaps some poor fellow from the village," said Akosh, caressing the dog.
"The fellow has heard our conversation. I am positive he came to listen!" said Lady Rety, greatly excited, and to the signal annoyance of Mr. Catspaw.
"I cannot think he did," said Etelka. "Mr. Catspaw is indeed known to be the worthiest person alive, but I cannot believe that anybody will creep up in the darkness to listen to him, and in October too."
The attorney frowned. "My dear Miss," returned he, "you do not understand these things. We were discussing matters of great moment—there are several