"You appear surprised," said Teleki, observing his amazement. "You are astonished that I should travel such a long way to see you, after parting from you only twenty-four hours ago. But great events have taken place in the meantime. Transylvania is threatened by a danger which must be averted as quickly as possible." "I know it," replied Beldi, and putting his hand over the signature, he let Teleki read Kucsuk's letter. "Great heaven!" exclaimed the minister. "You know more than I did. But what I want to say on this matter is a secret which the very walls around us may not hear." "I understand," replied Beldi, and immediately commanded his heydukes to admit no one into the vestibules; placed guards in front of the windows, and drew the curtains down to the ground. There now only remained a little tapestried door, at the back of the room, which led through a narrow corridor to his wife's bed-chamber, an arrangement very common, at that time, in the mansions of Hungarian magnates. By way of additional precaution Beldi closed this door also. "Does your Excellency feel secure enough now?" asked Beldi. "One thing more. Give me your word of honour that if what I am about to disclose does not meet with your approbation, you will at least keep it secret." "I promise," returned Beldi, impatiently awaiting the _dénouement_ of all this mystery. Teleki thereupon drew forth a long strip of parchment, unfolded it, and held it before Beldi's eyes, without however letting it out of his hands. It was the league against Banfi, signed and sealed by the Prince. The more Beldi read of this document, the blacker grew his looks, till at last, turning his face away, he pushed the document aside with an expression of deep disgust. "Sir," said he, "'tis a dirty piece of work!" Teleki was prepared for some such answer, and summoned to his aid all the sophistry of which he was so perfect a master. "Beldi!" cried he, "we must, for once, put aside all narrow-minded sentiment. Here it is a question of the end and not of the means. The means may seem bad, but we really have no other. Whenever a subject becomes so powerful in a state that the arm of the law is no longer able to bring him to justice, then I say he has only himself to blame if the state is compelled to conspire against him. He whom the axe of the executioner cannot reach, must fall beneath the dagger of the bravo. Denis Banfi, by despising the Prince's commands and waging war on his own account, has placed himself outside the law. In such a case, where the ordinary tribunals become inoperative, we must of course have resort to secret tribunals. If any one injures me, and the law can give me no remedy, I make use of my own weapons, and shoot him down wherever I meet him. If the country is injured by any one whom it cannot punish, it must fall back upon the _jus ligatum_, and lay hands upon him whenever and wherever it can. The commonweal requires, the common danger compels such a step."