"Perhaps not, but in view of the accusation brought against Ráby, his Majesty orders that he be detained in a place of confinement more befitting his rank and calling." "That shall be done," said his Excellency, and therewith he rang the bell. The lackey answered it, and he gave him the order: "Go at once to the Assembly House at Pesth, and tell the lieutenant he is to wait on me immediately." Then he turned to his interrupted dictation as a sign his guest could go. An hour after this, Mr. Laskóy was announced. He had come to represent the Council, as the latter was engaged over the vintage. His Excellency looked ready to eat his visitor. "What is all this foolery in the dungeon of the Assembly House, pray? Is this the way you keep order? Mathias Ráby has only been imprisoned four days, yet already the Emperor has had a letter from him, telling him all about the thieves' den where he is shut up. Could you not manage things better, and fetter him so that he could not write a letter, even if he had pencil and paper?" Mr. Laskóy stammered and stuttered and lamely excused himself, and finally got enraged, and vowed to himself he would soon find a way out of this business. He tramped back to the Assembly House, and after a short confab with the gaoler, new arrangements were soon made regarding Ráby. Among the underground vaults was a cell where wood was kept, but this was hastily turned out. The little vault had an iron door, with a tiny air-hole in the middle, so small it could hardly be seen, and the door could be locked fast. A more fitting place for Ráby could not be found. Our hero had already passed four days in the company of criminals, and was counting the minutes and hours till the Emperor's orders should arrive which were to free him from this frightful hole. And now the time as it seemed had come. He was eating his supper of rice soaked in water--the usual prison fare--when they came to fetch him. But they only rivetted shorter fetters on his hands and feet alike, led him down into a deeper vault, and thrust him into a cold, dark, mouldy cellar, wherein not a single ray of sunlight, nor the sound of a human voice could penetrate. Yes, this was a worse place than that he had longed to escape from. Above there, they might be evil men, but at least they had had human faces. Their words had been hateful indeed, but they had been human voices that uttered them. When they clanged the door behind him, and the cold, dark, deathlike silence closed around him, Ráby lost consciousness. * * * * * In the afternoon the district commissioner again called on his Excellency, who was engaged in his favourite game of billiards. "Dare I venture?" began his visitor. "It is all right. Ráby is transferred into another cell. Now just watch, my friend, what a good shot I shall make." "Yes, but perhaps they've put him in a worse one still?"