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 l