something about "patibulandus" and "fautores criminum."
"And what happened when you came up with the gipsy?" said Mr. Skinner, again addressing the Pandurs. "Was there any thing very suspicious about the old hang-dog scoundrel?"
"There was indeed!" said Janosh, twirling his moustache. "When we came up with the gipsy, – which was rather late, for the old Moor ran very fast, – Pishta called out to him, at which he appeared frightened."
"Frightened?" said Mr. Skinner. "Frightened, indeed; I'd be glad to know the reason;" and the Clerk, shaking his head, added, "This is indeed suspicious!"
"Begging your lordship's pardon," cried the gipsy, "the gentlemen swore at me, and cocked their pistols, which made me believe that they were robbers."
"Hold your tongue, you cursed black dog! If you say another word, you shall have beating enough to last you a twelvemonth." Having thus mildly admonished the prisoner, Mr. Skinner proceeded with the "benevolum." "Go on, Janosh," said he.
And Janosh went on: "Upon this Pishta asked him, 'Where is Viola?' and he answered, 'I never saw him.'"
"But we saw him in conversation with Viola!" cried the second Pandur. "I said, 'Peti, you are a liar; we have seen you talking to Viola! and unless you confess it, we'll make you dance to a queer kind of music."
"What did the gipsy say to that?" asked the Clerk.
"He said he did not know who the horseman was, which made me angry; for your worship is aware that Peti knows every body. When he saw me angry, he wanted to run away."
"Oh, Goodness gracious!" cried the gipsy; "why should I not run away, when they fell to beating me, and offered to handcuff me?"
"An honest man," said Kenihazy sententiously, "cares not for handcuffs."
"I thought so too," quoth Janosh; "therefore, when we saw that he was indeed a criminal, we hunted him down, bound his hands, and took him to his worship."
"You did your duty," said Mr. Skinner. "Now take the old fox to my house. To-morrow we'll commit him to gaol."
"But," cried Peti, "I assure your worship I am as innocent as the babe unborn!"
"I dare say you are!" said the justice with a bitter sneer. "You don't know Viola, – of course you don't. Who shod Viola's horse? eh?"
"Yes, I do know him," sighed the gipsy; "but is it my fault that I lived in the same village with him Heaven knows how long! for Viola was the best man in the world before he fell into the hands of the County Court. I confess that I did shoe his horse; but what is an old man to do against robbers armed with sticks and pistols?"
"But why do the robbers come to you? Why don't they employ honest smiths?"
"I think," said Peti, quietly, "the robbers prefer coming to my house because I do not live in the village."
"And why do you not live in the village? you scarecrow!"
"Because, my lord, the sheriff will not allow the gipsies to live in the village since Barna Jantzi's house was burned. This is hard enough for an old man like myself."
Every one of these answers was, in Mr. Skinner's eyes, a violation of the judicial dignity. The best of us dislike being mistaken in our opinion as to the merit of our fellow men. We would rather pardon their weaknesses, than be brought to shame by their good qualities. No wonder then that Paul Skinner, whose knowledge of self had given him a very bad idea of his species, would never believe a man to be innocent, whom he once suspected of any crime. It is but natural that, in the present instance, he did all in his power to make the gipsy's guilt manifest.
"Never mind," said he, "I wonder whether you'll give yourself such airs when you are in my house; Viola too will be caught by to-morrow morning. Take him to my house, and don't let him escape, – else – "
Upon this the Pandurs prepared the handcuffs, when Akosh interfered, offering to be bail for the gipsy's appearance. Mr. Skinner, however, was but too happy to have his revenge for the jokes which the young man had made at his expense in the course of the interrogatory.
"You know I am always happy to oblige you," said he, "but in the present instance it is impossible. By to-morrow Viola will be caught, and it will be then found that this gipsy is one of his accomplices."
"If you keep Peti until Viola is caught," said Kalman Kishlaky, "you'll keep the poor fellow to the end of time."
"We'll see that!" sneered the justice. "All I say is, I am informed that he is to be at the Tsharda of Tissaret this very night. He'll find us prepared. We take the landlord and his family, bind them, and lock them up in the cellar, while the Pandurs, disguised as peasants, wait for him at the door. It is all arranged, I tell you."
"Of course always supposing Viola will come," said Akosh.
"This time he will come," replied Mr. Skinner with great dignity. "I have trusty spies."
Old Peti seemed greatly, and even painfully, struck with this intelligence. His brown face exhibited the lively interest he felt in Viola's danger; and his features were all but convulsed when he heard of the preparations for the capture of the robber. It was fortunate for him that his excitement was not remarked by any but Tengelyi; and when Mr. Skinner at length turned his searching eye upon his captive, he saw no trace of old Peti's emotions in his imploring attitude. The Pandurs were in the act of removing their prisoner, when the latter, turning to Akosh, said: —
"I most humbly intreat you, since I must go to prison, to tell my Lord, your father, that old Peti is in gaol, and that it is not my fault if the letters do not come to hand."
"What letters?" said Akosh.
"My Lord's letters, which he gave me," answered the gipsy, producing a packet from beneath the lining of his waistcoat, and handing it to Akosh. "I am my Lord's messenger; and I should not have been too late, for my lady promised me a present for taking these letters to St. Vilmosh before sunset, but for these – gentlemen, who caught me when I entered the forest."
Akosh took the letters, opened them, and, having perused their contents, he handed them to Mr. Skinner, who appeared not a little distressed after reading them.
"You've spoiled it," said Akosh in a low voice. "If you lose your election you have at least one comfort, namely, that you have defeated your own plans. With the three hundred votes from St. Vilmosh against you, you have not even a chance."
"I trust not," murmured Mr. Skinner; "I trust not. The men of St. Vilmosh – "
"Are by no means fond of you; and if they elect you, they do it to please their notary, who is, indeed, on my father's side; but Heaven knows how long! This morning we learned that Bantornyi's party were negotiating with him, but that they could not agree. My father writes these letters, promises to comply with all the notary's demands, and invites the St. Vilmosh gentry to come to him and pledge their votes. So far all is right. But you interfere with your Pandurs, you stop our messenger, and assist our enemies, who will by this time have repented of their stinginess."
"But who could have foreseen that your father would send an important message by a man like Peti?"
"Did not I tell you," said Akosh, evidently amused by the judge's perplexity, "that old Peti is our servant and messenger. Who would ever have thought of the sheriff's quick-footed gipsy being taken up and handcuffed?"
"It is true," said Mr. Skinner,
