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Updated: May 17, 2025
After dusk the same day he sent the following letter to Gerzson by one of his men: "I feel certain I hold the thread of the whole conspiracy in my hands. We are on their track." At nightfall he encamped in a lonely mill, which he chose because, in case of necessity, it could easily be defended. He had reasons for thinking that he might be attacked in the night.
"It is odd that the woman of the inn does not come out to meet me," said Henrietta. "She liked me so. How pleased she will be to see me." Nevertheless no one came. Squire Gerzson grew impatient. He could not leave the coach and horses all by themselves. "Hie! somebody! Who's at home? Landlady, wenches, or whoever you are, can't you creep out of your hole?"
Gerzson approached a bear's den with such beating of heart as he now approached Hátszegi's chambers. His breath almost failed him as he seized the handle of the street door and wished it might prove locked in order that it might take a longer time to open it. And locked indeed the door proved to be, he had to ring. Thus he had, at any rate, a respite, for he must await the result of the ringing.
At such time the crowd has no eyes for men, everyone is occupied with the horses. Mr. Gerzson therefore had plenty of time to scrutinize all who were present, but look as he would he could not see Leonard anywhere.
There was no intermediate station where they could change horses. Half an hour later Mr. Gerzson dashed his clay pipe against the wheel of the coach and swore that he would be damned if ever such a silly-fool thing had ever befallen him before, for now the thill horse also began to limp. Naturally, that also was found to have been pricked.
And Henrietta stood once more in the landlady's room and gazed pensively out of the window. Her meditations were presently disturbed by Squire Gerzson. "My dear good lady," he began, "fate has certainly sworn to be our enemy in every possible way to-day. I would not have believed it myself if I had not actually experienced it. First of all, all our four horses fall lame on the road.
Gerzson with imperious brevity, but that gentleman, even in his present situation, could not divest himself of his homely humour, and as he was donning the parson's long cassock and pressed the broad brimmed clerical hat down upon his head, he fell a laughing at the odd figure he cut. "Deuce take it!" he cried, "I never imagined that I should ever be turned into a parson."
Squire Gerzson, on the other hand, troubled himself not a jot about possible consequences. With the nonchalance of a true sportsman, he lit his pipe and, lest he should set anything on fire, he made up his mind not to sleep a wink till he had smoked his pipe right out.
Squire Gerzson kept on asking Henrietta whether she was hungry or thirsty and offered her his flask again and again; but she always gently declined it, the old man feeling in honour bound to follow her example. He comforted her, however, with the assurance that the csárdá-woman was a dab hand at turning out all sorts of good old savoury Hungarian dishes.
Henrietta listened with a sort of stupefaction to the cynical answers of the old scoundrel, and her heart grew heavy within her. To think that that merry, rosy cheeked young woman should have killed herself out of grief for her lover. "Then who is carrying on the house?" enquired Squire Gerzson. "Nobody. All the servants bolted after the funeral, in order that they might not appear as witnesses."
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