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Page 9
"It's the Count--the Count and the district judge," said the
landlord in a tone of respect. The notary made a grab at his hat
and umbrella and hurried from the room. "That shows how much they
thought of our pastor," continued the landlord proudly. "For the
Count himself has come and with four horses, too, to get here the
more quickly. His Reverence was a great friend of the Countess."
"They didn't make so much fuss over the pedlar and Betty," murmured
the cobbler, who suffered from a perpetual grouch. But he followed
the others, who paid their scores hastily and went out into the
streets that they might watch from a distance at least what was
going on in the rectory. The landlord bustled about the inn to have
everything in readiness in case the gentlemen should honour him by
taking a meal, and perhaps even lodgings, at his house. At the gate
of the rectory the coachman and the maid Liska stood to receive the
newcomers, just as five o'clock was striking from the steeple.
It should have been still quite light, but it was already dusk, for
the clouds hung heavy. The rain had ceased, but a heavy wind came
up which tore the delicate petals of the blossoms from the fruit
trees and strewed them like snow on the ground beneath. The Count,
who was the head of one of the richest and most aristocratic
families in Hungary, threw off his heavy fur coat and hastened up
the stairs at the top of which his old friend and confidant, the
venerable pastor, usually came to meet him. To-day it was only the
local magistrate who stood there, bowing deeply.
"This is incredible, incredible!" exclaimed the Count.
"It is, indeed, sir," said the man, leading the magnate through the
dining-room into the pastor's study, where, as far as could be seen,
the murder had been committed. They were joined by the district
judge, who had remained behind to give an order sending a carriage
to the nearest railway station. The judge, too, was serious and
deeply shocked, for he also had greatly admired and revered the old
pastor. The stately rectory had been the scene of many a jovial
gathering when the lord of the manor had made it a centre for a day's
hunting with his friends. The bearers of some of the proudest names
in all Hungary had gathered in the high-arched rooms to laugh with
the venerable pastor and to sample the excellent wines in his cellar.
These wines, which the gentlemen themselves would send in as
presents to the master of the rectory, would be carefully preserved
for their own enjoyment. Not a landed proprietor for many leagues
around but knew and loved the old pastor, who had now so strangely
disappeared under such terrifying circumstances.
"Well, we might as well begin our examination," remarked the Count.
"Although if Dr. Orszay's sharp eyes did not find anything, I doubt
very much if we will. You have asked the doctor to come here again,
haven't you?"
"Yes, your Grace! As soon as I saw you coming I sent the sexton to
the asylum." Then the men went in again into the room which had
been the scene of the mysterious crime. The wind rattled the open
window and blew out its white curtains. It was already dark in the
corners of the room, one could see but indistinctly the carvings of
the wainscoting. The light backs of the books, or the gold letters
on the darker bindings, made spots of brightness in the gloom. The
hideous pool of blood in the centre of the floor was still plainly
to be seen.
"Judging by the loss of blood, death must have come quickly."
"There was no struggle, evidently, for everything in the room was
in perfect order when we entered it."
"There is not even a chair misplaced. His Bible is there on the
desk, he may have been preparing for to-day's sermon."
"Yes, that is the case; because see, here are some notes in his
handwriting."
The Count and Judge von Kormendy spoke these sentences at intervals
as they made their examination of the room. The local magistrate
was able to answer one or two simpler questions, but for the most
part he could only shrug his shoulders in helplessness. Nothing had
been seen or heard that was at all unusual during the night in the
rectory. When the old housekeeper was called up she could say
nothing more than this. Indeed, it was almost impossible for the
old woman to say anything, her voice choked with sobs at every
second word. None of the household force had noticed anything
unusual, or could remember anything at all that would throw light
on this mystery.
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