The fugitives had only one more station to accomplish before they
reached the Austrian frontier, where the Hungarian jurisdiction ceased.
Was there trouble at the frontier over Raby's identification, at least
it meant that he would be taken to Vienna to prove it, and not back to
Pesth.
They heard from travellers they met on the way that the Emperor was back
in the capital, owing to the army being in winter quarters, and
hostilities against the Turks being suspended for the time being. Raby,
thereupon grew more anxious than ever as to his possible reception by
the Kaiser, whose concurrence he still doubted in his forcible rescue,
though, by this, the Emperor had doubtless seen that his formal orders
availed nothing, and he probably thought it impolitic to use military
force to free his representative.
It was revolving such thoughts in his mind, that Raby and his guides
came to the wayside inn where they were to pass their last night on
Magyar territory. It was a poor little "csarda," as such hostelries are
called in Hungary, between Pozsony and Hainburg, wherein only now and
again travellers passed the night, driven thereto by stress of weather.
The accommodation left much to be desired, and its reputation was none
of the best. It was whispered, indeed, that travellers had been murdered
and waylaid there, and even now the host was serving his term in the
Pozsony prison, where he was a frequent inmate. In his absence, his wife
looked after the inn.
There was no proper sleeping-rooms, so the guests had to rest on the
straw thrown down for them in the public dining-room, where they forgot
their differences of rank as best they could, while the only light was a
single tallow candle suspended from the ceiling in a hanging
tin-candlestick.
Laying about on the benches, or on the long table, were a crowd of
guests that included peasants and shepherds, pedlars and smugglers,
while the air was rank with odours of strong cheese, onions, and
tobacco-smoke. The hostess ministered herself to the wants of the
guests, and handed round the wine.
It was among this company that Raby and his companions took their
places; as there was no other woman present among the travellers, the
hostess expressed some fear that the pretended Serb maiden would find it
somewhat uncomfortable.
The two men thanked her, but said they would look after their sister,
and ordered a stewed fowl and some wine, for which the party paid in
advance. The water was too bad for anyone to depend on, so Raby had to
drink wine, which, unaccustomed as he was to it, soon made him feel
drowsy.
In a few minutes he was fast asleep, with his head pillowed on his
folded arms on the table.
His slumbers, however, were soon to be disturbed, for there was a loud
noise heard outside as of the trampling of horses and the clash of
weapons. The hostess said it must be a party of heydukes, and sure
enough it was.
Now Raby had ceased to be fearful of discovery by these pursuers, as
from the description of him so industriously circulated, they could not
recognise him in his present disguise. Moreover, he had been carefully
shaven every day since his flight, and his face newly painted, the
better to sustain his role.
But this time he had cause for anxiety, for the first voice he heard
without was a hatefully familiar one--that of the castellan, Janosics.
How did he come to be here, for they were now in the jurisdiction of
Pozsony not of Pesth. He heard the castellan giving orders for one man
to come in with him, and the other to remain with the horses.
Raby stole a glance at the door which was half open. A cold shudder
seized him as he caught sight of Janosics wearing the Pesth uniform, and
carrying a carbine in his hand and a sword at his belt.
Raby pressed his head down lower, so his face might not be seen. The big
sleeves of his bodice helped him to hide his features the more easily.
"Up all of you fellows, and let me have a look at you!" shouted the
castellan. Those present immediately obeyed, and submitted to the
inspection.
"The man I want is not here," grumbled Janosics, as he rapidly ran over
the assembled faces, but when he came to Kurovics, he laughed aloud.
"Aha, Master Kurovics, so you are here, are you? What brings you out
this bitter winter weather, pray?"
"Oh, we must look after our business you know," answered the other,
without the least embarrassment.
"Where's your passport?"
"What do I want with one? I don't cross the frontier."
"Well," shouted the other, "what may you be doing here?"
"Hush! not so loud," retorted Kurovics, with a glance at Raby. "I've got
my little cousin to look after."
"Oh, that's the game, is it? Soho, I see; and a nice little baggage it
is, I'll be bound. Oh I don't want to wake her if she's tired."
And the castellan sat down between Raby and Kurovics, and asked the
latter for a bit of his tobacco. Then he smoked, but always keeping an
eye on Raby.
"Pretty, eh?" he asked, and he made as though he would raise the
coloured kerchief that half hid the sleeper's face.
"Let her rest, Mr. castellan, I beg. She's wearied out with the
journey."
"Well, well, let her be then, but you, hostess, bring us some wine, and
take some to the heyduke outside."
"And what may you be doing in this neighbourhood, if I may be so bold?"
inquired Kurovics.
"Oh, an important police-mission. A dangerous felon, the notorious
Mathias Raby broke out of Pesth prison last week, and the descriptions
circulated of him are not correct, as I could have told them had they
asked me. The fellow is not bearded as described, but he was shaved the
day before he got out, and had a face as smooth as any girl's."
Raby felt as if the beatings of his heart would burst his bodice, as the
new-comer went on:
"When I heard of it, I went to the authorities and told them the mistake
they had made, and offered to make it good by riding after the runaway
myself to see if I could identify him. And there are two hundred ducats
for the man who brings him back alive."
"A nice round sum! I only wish I could find him," answered Kurovics.
"I mean to take him myself," said Janosics coolly. "But hark ye,
Kurovics, is it possible that you yourself are leading my prisoner away
in a girl's garb? Just let me have another look at her."
Raby would have swooned, only that the castellan was now smoking so
closely under his nose that he was nearly choked by it. He was on the
point of springing up and surrendering in sheer desperation; it was with
the greatest difficulty he mastered his feelings, above all his
inclination to cough, for raising his head would betray him directly.
And the suspicion too arose in him that perhaps, after all, his guides
were accomplices in a comedy which had for its _denouement_ the arrest
of the fugitive just as he was making sure of safety.
"Now I must see her face," said Janosics, and Raby felt his enemy's
clammy hand laid on his brow.
"Won't you look at me, little one? I can speak Serb quite well," sneered
his persecutor. And the castellan forcibly raised Raby's head, and
looked him in the face with a grin of malicious triumph.
But just then the heyduke, who had been waiting outside, dashed into the
room in hot haste, crying excitedly, "Villam Pista is here!" With that
the scene was changed, and Janosics had to make way for a mightier
rival. The very name of the renowned robber-chief spread consternation,
and the carabineers, on hearing it, promptly threw their weapons away,
the better to run for their lives, while the whole company scattered
pell-mell, some out of the window, and others up the chimney, in their
hot haste to get off. There was no one finally left in the room but Raby
and his two companions, and the hostess.
Outside, they heard some shots fired, followed by a feeble groan that
seemed to come from Janosics. Then the door flew open, and Villam Pista
himself entered, accompanied by two comrades, his rifle in his hand
still smoking from the recent shot. He was a fine-looking young fellow,
with no trace of beard on his smooth, handsome face. His bearing and
air showed that he was accustomed to be master of the situation wherever
he was. His dress fitted him admirably, a richly embroidered cloak fell
across his shoulders, on his head was perched a jauntily feathered cap,
and a short pipe was in his mouth.
"They are a cursed lot," he cried, as he threw the weapon on to the
table. "But I've paid them out; they won't ride quite so merrily back as
they did in coming, I'll be bound. I'm sorry, however, the shot did not
finish them."
Then he looked round the room. "Bless me, what a miserable light! Is
that what you call lighting up?" And he whistled to the hostess, who
hurried up with a dozen candles, and promptly placed them on the table
in as many sticks.
Raby's companions had placed themselves before him, so that their
mantles rather screened him from the highwayman. But the latter spied
him out at once owing to his dress, and seizing Raby by the hand, he
dragged him out into the middle of the room. For a moment, they looked
each other steadily in the face, and Raby recognised in the
robber-leader, his wife, Fruzsinka!
And thus it was that they met. But the supposed highwayman still did not
betray the situation. He drew Raby closer to him, and whispered hastily
in his ear, "Pretend you are frightened, and make your escape by the
door."
Raby obeyed, and with a bound across the room, in a trice was outside.
Fruzsinka followed him, and grasped his hand in hers.
"We have no time for talking. A whole gang of heydukes from Pesth is on
your track. Come away immediately; here are the horses of your
persecutors; up and ride for your life till you have left the frontier
behind you. Do not trust even your companions who will follow you, but
do not wait for them."
And so saying, she helped Raby to mount, only he was so exhausted he
found it difficult to keep his seat, and was crying like a child.
"Weep not thus, wretched man," she cried impatiently. "Shame on you for
your weakness! Why do you look at me like that? We have nothing more to
do with each other, you and I. But fly, and look not back, and beware of
ever setting foot in this accursed country again, for whose sake you
have made both me and yourself so miserable."
While she spoke, she cast her cloak about him to protect him from the
bitter cold of the winter's night.
Raby would have spoken one last word, but she cut him short by switching
his horse's flanks with her riding whip, whereat the animal bounded away
over the ground, where the snow already lay a foot deep. And the last
sound Raby heard from the "csarda" was the cracking of Villam Pista's
whip.