"Don't you trouble, I'll hide your little savings effectually for you. Good! Well, go home, and come back soon with an empty box under your cloak, so that everyone can see you are carrying something. Thus no suspicions will be aroused when you go away again." Mathias Kracskó did as he was bidden; he went off, and returned shortly with an empty municipal cash-box under his cloak. Mr. Zabváry had his own box ready, sealed not only at the lock, but at the four corners. "Here it is. Hide it away by all means, and directly the commission is off our track you can restore it to me again. And give me your written promise to give it me back as soon as I ask for it. For it's a sad world, and we are the only two honest men left in it." So the notary signed the document, tucked the chest of savings under his cloak, and hid it carefully away. * * * * * Mathias Ráby was taking his way to Szent-Endre to attend the inquiry into the municipal scandals. On the road he met his uncle, who appeared to be looking for someone. "Halloa, uncle! what are you waiting for?" "I'm waiting for you, nephew, to have a talk with you. Remember, it's some time since we met!" "Surely, uncle, that is not my fault," exclaimed Ráby, "considering that you never once crossed my threshold during my illness." "No, indeed; small chance of doing so, seeing that every time I came, I found a heyduke before your door, who told me that only the doctor was allowed to see you." "A heyduke!" cried Ráby in amazement, "why who could have placed him there?" "That was just what I asked him, and he told me the municipality had done so." "But what does the municipality mean by planting a heyduke before my door? And why did not Böske tell me?" "Because the good soul had only one idea in her head--as sweet simplicity ordinarily has. She wormed out of the fellow why he stood there, and he told her he was ordered to look after a maniac inside, whom, if he tried to go out, he was to seize and bind. Had Böske told you a man was waiting for you then, nervous and feeble as you were, you would have sprung out of bed and had a hand-to-hand fight with him, and he would have bound you, weak invalid as you were, and carried you away to the mad-house, whence you were not likely to get out again. So Böske was silent." "And I was so angry with her. But now we are good friends again, aren't we?" "To be sure we are. But what shall we do with the others?" "With my enemies?" "No, with your friends! You can always be even with your foes, but your friends are another matter. The heads of the magistracy have not been idle during the ten weeks you were ill. To-day you appear with the imperial orders to elect a new municipality in Szent-Endre. Yet you will see that the folks here will choose exactly the same lot again." "That surely is impossible!"