ot a soul at home except her
ladyship, and she is mad."

At that same moment Gerzson thought he heard a fiddle in the upper
story.

"What, music here!" he cried.

The fellow laughed.

"Yes, they are trying to cure the sick baroness by playing to her."

"But I hear the sound of men's voices also as if there were guests
here."

"Where? I hear nothing. It is only the dogs barking in the enclosure."

"You did not hear it, sirrah?"

"I heard nothing."

"Very well, my son, I see you have orders to make a fool of me; but it
strikes me that both you and your master will have to get up pretty
early to do that. You need not be so anxious to guard the door, I shall
not try to force my way up to your master. I'll wager he will come and
see me first. Wait a bit."

And with that Gerzson sat down on the step, tore a leaf out of his
pocketbook and, placing it on his knee, wrote with his pencil the
following words: "Sir, I declare you to be a miserable coward. If you
want to know why, you will find me at the parson's, there I will tell
you and after that we can arrange our little business between ourselves.
"GERZSON SATRAKOVICS."

Mr. Gerzson had even taken the trouble to provide himself with
sealing-wax and matches so he could seal his letter without any
difficulty and the step served him as a table.

But suppose even this letter did not make Hatszegi come forth? Struck by
this idea he tore open the note again and added this postscript: "If you
do not give me proper satisfaction, I will wait for you at the gate of
your own castle and shoot you down like a dog!!"

Surely _that_ would be enough!

Again he sealed the letter and was about to hand it to the huntsman when
it suddenly occurred to him that Hatszegi might chuck the note unopened
into the fire. Now, therefore, he wrote on the outside of it, just below
the address: "If you don't open this letter, I will have an exact copy
of it posted upon the notice-board of the club at Arad."

"And now, you door-keeping Cerberus," said he, "take this and give it to
your master, wherever he may be."

He wasted no more words upon the fellow, but went straight to the
dwelling of the old priest who was awaiting him in his porch.

"I must beg your reverence for a night's lodging, I am afraid," said
Squire Gerzson, cordially pressing the old clergyman's hand. "There is
serious illness at the baron's house so I don't want to incom