Part 54 (1/2)

He crossed the meadow, and disappeared in the thicket which covers the banks of the Theiss.

When the domestics entered the attorney's room they found him dying.

There were no traces of a robbery. The wretched man's watch and purse lay on the bed.

”Robbers! Murderers!” cried the cook, who was the first to enter.

”Follow him!”

”Send for the doctor!”

”No, send for the curate!”

All was noise and confusion. Two of the men raised the attorney and laid him on the bed.

”Follow him!” gasped Mr. Catspaw, ”Follow! My papers!”

”What papers?” said the cook.

”Tengelyi----” groaned the dying man.

His lips moved, but his voice was lost in a hoa.r.s.e rattle.

”I've caught him!” cried a haiduk from the corridor, as he dragged Jants.h.i.+, the Jewish glazier, into the room.

”That's the rascal!” said the haiduk. ”That's him. He was hid in the chimney!”

”Oh, the villain!” cried the cook, pus.h.i.+ng the reluctant Jew to Mr.

Catspaw's bed. ”I say, your wors.h.i.+p, that's the man!”

The attorney shook his head. His lips moved, but no sound was heard.

”But, sir, I'm sure it's he!” said the cook. ”Give us a nod, sir!”

Again Mr. Catspaw shook his head. He seized the cook by the hand; he would have spoken, but it was in vain. With a convulsive motion of his body he stared round, and, falling back, breathed his last.

”I'd like to know what he meant?” said the cook, when they had bound the prisoner and locked him up in the cellar; ”when I showed him the Jew, he shook his head.”

”His last word,” cried Mrs. Kata Cizmeasz, the female cook of the servant's hall, wiping her eyes, less from sorrow for Mr. Catspaw's death, than because she thought it was proper that women should weep on such occasions; ”his last word was _Tengelyi_.”

”Hold your silly tongue!” said the cook, with dignity; ”it's blasphemous to say such a thing of Mr. Tengelyi!”

”Really,” reiterated Mrs. Kata Cizmeasz, ”it struck me that he said 'Tengelyi;' and when he could not speak, poor dear, he moved his lips, for all the world, as if to say 'Tengelyi' over again. When my poor husband, G.o.d rest his soul! was dying of the dropsy, he didn't speak by the day; but I looked at his mouth, and understood what he meant to say.

'Go away! Come here! Give me some water!' Any thing he'd like. I knew it all!” And she wiped her eyes.

”Bless that woman!” said the cook, appealing to the crowd of servants, ”She'll be after accusing the notary of the murder. Did I ever!”

”Bless yourself!” retorted Mrs. Kata; ”all I say is, that the attorney said 'Tengelyi' when we asked him who had done it? He said it with a clear voice. I heard it quite distinctly, and I'll take my oath on it!”