"
"Rubbish! Don't make a fool of yourself. Besides, they say that Fatia
Negra has flown to America."
"Newspaper lies. He is here, I know he is."
"And suppose he is, what harm can he do? This band has been cut off to
the very last man. They have all been sentenced heavily, the older men
to twenty years penal servitude, the younger men to penal servitude for
life. I had it from Hatszegi himself who was the president of the mixed
commission that tried them, and signed the judgment himself. The whole
fraternity is now sitting in chains in the trenches of Gyula Fehervar
and we have seen the last of it."
"What guarantee have you of that?"
"What guarantee?--why the security of the whole region ever since. Why,
everyone there can now sleep with open doors and if you yourself were to
lie dead drunk in the public thoroughfare you would not have your money
stolen from your pocket any more."
Squire Gerzson protested vehemently against the assumption that he was
in the habit of sprawling tipsily on the king's high road.
"I'll tell you," said he, "why everything is so secure just now. The
confiscated gold of Fatia Negra is still at Gyula Fehervar, as a forfeit
to the crown, and, sooner or later, must be sent to Vienna. Fatia Negra
is _not_ dead, his robber band has _not_ been captured and does _not_
sit in irons at Gyula Fehervar, and the present tranquillity and
imagined security suit their plans nicely.
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