Though ignorant of the suspicion which had been cast upon him, Tengelyi passed the night in sorrow and remorse. He was convinced that the deed of blood was done by Viola's hand; and his soul trembled within him as he thought that, instead of preventing the crime, he had actually gone to meet the robber on the banks of the Theiss. He felt degraded and wretched by this strange complicity. After a sleepless night, he rose with the day, and hastened to Vandory, who was still in happy ignorance of what had happened.
"Shocking!" cried the curate, when Tengelyi had finished his narrative of the late events: "to think that he should be summoned to appear before God in the very midst of his sins, and without having one moment left for repentance!"
"Shocking, indeed!" said the notary; "but is not mine the fault? Am I not a partner in this crime? I all but knew that Catspaw had possession of my papers. I ought to have known that Viola could not wrest them from him without taking his life. And what did I do? Instead of preventing the deed, I obeyed the summons of the outlaw. I waited for him, to receive the booty from hands reeking with the blood of his victim!"
"Viola's deed is horrible. I understand your feelings. But, tell me, what could you have done to prevent him?"
"My duty. I ought to have informed against him. I ought to have arrested him."
"No," said Vandory. "How could you think of arresting a man who relies upon your honour? Besides, to arrest Viola, means to deliver him up to the hangman."
Tengelyi was about to reply, when the Liptaka rushed into the room.
"Mr. Tengelyi, sir! For God's sake, do come home! Do, sir!" cried the old woman.
"What is the matter?" asked Vandory and Tengelyi at once; for the manner of the Liptaka impressed them with the idea that some accident of a fearful nature must have happened.
"Oh, gracious! The justice and the clerk!" gasped the Liptaka.