St. Peter's Umbrella Part 10

Where is it? There must be any amount of it. I'm afraid some wrong has been done."

Mrs. Panyoki said nothing, only looked suspiciously at her two brothers.

CHAPTER IV.

THE AVARICIOUS GREGORICS.

The contents of the will soon became known in the town, and caused quite a little storm in the various patriarchal drawing-rooms, with their old-fas.h.i.+oned cherry-wood pianos, over which hung the well-known picture, the "March of Miklos Zrinyi," and their white embroidered table-cloths on small tables, in the centre of which stands a silver candlestick, or a gla.s.s brought from some watering-place with the name engraved on it, and a bunch of lilac in it. Yes, in those dear little drawing-rooms, there was any amount of gossip going on. It was really disgraceful of Gregorics, but he was always tactless. The idea of compromising honest old ladies, mothers and grandmothers!

The nine ladies were the talk of the town, their names were in every mouth, and though there were many who blamed Gregorics, there were also some who took his part.

"After all," they said, "who knows what ties there were between them?

Gregorics must have been a lively fellow in his youth."

And even those who defended Gregorics decided that after all there must have been some friends.h.i.+p between him and the nine ladies at some time or other, or why should he have remembered them in his will; but his behavior was not gentlemanly in any case, even if they were to believe the worst. In fact, in that case it was even more tactless.

"For such behavior he ought to be turned out of the club, I mean he ought to have been turned out; in fact, I mean, if he were alive he might be turned out. I a.s.sure you, if they write on his gravestone that he was an honorable man, I'll strike it out with my own pencil."

These were the words of the notary.

The captain of the fire-brigade looked at it from a different point of view.

"It is a cowardly trick," he declared. "Women only reckon until they are thirty-five years of age, and these are all old women. A little indiscretion of this kind cannot hurt them. If you breathe on a rusty bit of steel it leaves no mark. We only remove caterpillars from those trees which have flowers or leaves, or which will bear fruit, but on old, dried-up trees we leave them alone. But it is the husbands Gregorics has offended, for it is cowardly to affront people who cannot demand satisfaction from you. And I think I may affirm with safety that Gregorics is now incapable of giving satisfaction."

The next morning Istvan Vozary (whose wife was one of the nine ladies mentioned in the will) appeared at the lawyer's and informed him that as his wife had never had anything to do with the dead man, she had no intention of accepting the 2000 florins. When this was known in the town, the eight remaining ladies arrived, one after the other, at the lawyer's, in order to make known to him their refusal of the legacy, as they also had nothing to do with Gregorics.

I do not know when Sztolarik had had such a lively time of it as on that day, for it was really amusing to see those wrinkled old dames, toothless and gray-haired, coming to defend their honor.

But it was even livelier for the Gregorics family, for they thus got back the 20,000 florins they had been cheated out of--that is, with the exception of the 2000 florins left to the Academy of Arts and Sciences, for, of course, the Academy accepted the legacy, though it also had had nothing to do with Gregorics. But the Academy (the tenth old woman) was not so conscientious as the other nine.

The joy of the Gregorics soon turned to bitterness, for they could not manage to find out where the Bohemian estates were. Gaspar went off to Prague, but came back after a fruitless search. They were unable to find any papers referring to the estates; not a bill, not a receipt, not a letter was to be found.

"It was incomprehensible, such a thing had never happened before,"

Boldizsar said.

They were wild with anger, and threatened Matyko and Anna to have them locked up, if they would not tell them where the estates were in Bohemia; and at length they were brought before the Court and examined.

Matyko at least must know all about it, for he had travelled everywhere with his master.

So Matyko had to own that his master had never been to Bohemia at all, but had always gone to Szeged or to Kolozsvar, where Gyuri had been at school.

Oh! that sly Pal Gregorics, how he had cheated his relations! Now it was as clear as day why he had turned all his possessions into money, of course he had given it all to that boy. But _had_ he given it him? How could he have trusted hundreds of thousands to a child of that age?

Then, where had he put it? to whom had he given it? That was the riddle the Gregorics were trying to solve.

The lawyer, the last person who had spoken to Gregorics, declared he had not mentioned any money, and Anna swore by Heaven and earth that she and her son had not received a kreutzer from him, and were much embittered at the fact of his leaving them without any provision. She had not a good word to say for the dead man. He had made the boy unhappy for life, spending so much on him and his education, and then leaving him totally without providing for him; so that the boy, for whom expensive professors had been kept, would now be reduced to giving lessons himself, in order to enable him to live, for the house would hardly bring in enough to pay for his keep, while attending the lectures at the University.

"Well," said Sztolarik, "if he had intended the boy to have his money, he could have given it straight into his hands, no one could prevent it."

This was quite true, and that was the very reason it seemed so strange he had not done so. The house in Vienna had been sold for 180,000 florins, the Privorec estates for 75,000, which made over a quarter of million florins. Good heavens! Where had he put it to? If he had exchanged the paper notes for gold, melted it, and eaten it by spoonfuls ever since, he could not have finished it yet.

But Gregorics had been a careful man, so the money must be in existence somewhere. It was enough to drive one mad. It did not seem likely that Anna or the boy should have the money, nor Sztolarik, who was Gyuri Wibra's guardian; so the brothers Gregorics did not despair of finding it, and they engaged detectives to keep their eyes on Anna, and looked up a sharp boy in Pest to let them know how Gyuri lived there, and to find out from his conversation whether he knew anything of the missing money. For Gyuri had gone to Pest, to attend the University lectures, and study law. The boy sent word that Gyuri lived very simply, attended every lecture, lived at the "Seven Owls," and dined at a cheap eating-house known by the name of the "First of April." This little restaurant was mostly frequented by law students. On the daily bill of fare was the picture of a fat man speaking to a very thin man, and underneath was the following conversation:

Thin man: "How well you look; where do you dine?"

Fat man: "Why here, at the 'First of April.'"

Thin man: "Really? Well, I shall dine there too for the future."

All the same, the fare was not of the best, and perhaps the above conversation was intended to make April Fools of people. For the restaurant-keepers of olden times were frank, and even if they lied, they did it so naively, that every one saw through the lie.

Gaspar Gregorics received the following particulars as to Gyuri's mode of life:

"He breakfasts at a cheap coffee-house, attends lectures all the morning, dines at the 'First of April,' the afternoon he pa.s.ses at a lawyer's office, copying deeds, etc., and in the evening he buys a little bacon or fried fish for supper, then goes home and studies till midnight. Every one likes him, and he will make his way in the world."

That avaricious Gaspar Gregorics began to wish the boy had the quarter of a million after all, for he might in a few years' time marry his daughter Minka, who was just eleven.

Anna had let the house, and Sztolarik sent Gyuri thirty florins every month out of the rent.

The Gregorics divided the 18,000 florins refused by the nine ladies, among the three of them, and also the few hundreds obtained by the sale of the dead man's furniture and personal property, but the rest of the money was still missing.

The whole town was discussing the question of its whereabouts, and all sorts of silly tales were set afloat. Some said the old gentleman had sent it to Klapka, and that one day Klapka would return with it in the form of guns and cannon. Others said he had a castle, somewhere away in the woods, where he kept a very beautiful lady, and even if he had not been able to eat up his fortune in the form of melted gold, a pretty woman would soon know how to dispose of it.

But what made the most impression on every one was, that an ironmonger appeared at Gaspar's house with a bill for a large caldron Gregorics had bought the day before his death, but had not paid for.

Gaspar gave a long whistle.

"That caldron was not among the things we sold," he said. And he went through the inventory again; but no, the caldron was not there.

"I am on the right road," thought Gaspar. "He did not buy the caldron for nothing. Consequently, what did he buy it for? Why, to put something in it of course, and that something is what we are looking for!"

Boldizsar was of the same opinion, and positively beamed with delight.

"It is G.o.d's finger," he said. "Now I believe we shall find the treasure. Pal must have buried the caldron somewhere, thinking to do us out of our rights; and he would have succeeded if he had not been so stupid as not to pay for the caldron. But luckily in cases of this kind the wrongdoer generally makes some stupid mistake."

The ironmonger remembered that it was Matyko who had chosen the caldron and taken it with him; so Gaspar one day sent for the servant, gave him a good dinner with plenty of wine, and began to question him about Pal's last days, introducing the incident of the caldron, the bill for which the ironmonger had just sent him he said.

"What about it, Matyko," he asked. "Did your master really order it? I can hardly believe it, for what could he have wanted it for? I'm afraid you have been buying things for yourself, in your master's name."

That was the very way to make Matyko speak, to doubt his honor; and now he let out the whole story in order to clear himself. The day before his death, his master had told him to go and buy a caldron, and bring it him, together with two masons. He had done as he was told, and toward evening had taken the caldron into his master's bedroom; the masons had arrived at the same time, and had seen the caldron, so they could bear witness to the fact.

"Well, that's right, Matyko, you're a lucky fellow, for if you have two witnesses, your honor is as intact as ever, and you must consider my words as unspoken. Drink another gla.s.s of wine, and don't be offended at my suspicion; after all, it was only a natural conclusion; we could find no traces of the caldron, and the ironmonger wanted to be paid for it, and said you had taken it away. Where can it have got to?"

"Heaven only knows," answered Matyko.

"Did you never see it again?"