"I myself," he answered. "But I am slow to believe people, and so I want first to know whether I can trust you."
The boy still had his eyes turned towards the castle. "Thunder!" said he presently, "the devil himself doesn't get in there by the proper way. But just wait a moment, sir, and let me think a little. So they don't live on Jews' flesh in there, eh, sir?"
"To be sure not! I fancy they live on something better than that."
"But still the Jews do go in and out—at least so people say, and what is in everybody's mouth is half true at all events."
"Right; but what then?"
"Why, I'll be a Jew, and go in, if they don't eat people up."
"But how?"
"I don't know yet. Give me a little time, or I shall not be able to hit upon it."
"Of course. And now listen. Before I trust you blindly, I am going to prove you." He drew a sealed letter from his breast, wrote a few lines on the back with a pencil, and went on: "See this letter? Make haste with it to Visegrád; ask for admission, and say merely that you have brought the governor a letter from his son. Do you quite understand? But I don't know your name; what is it?"
"Tornay Mihály [Michael Tornay]," answered the boy; and then went on, "I see! what is there difficult about that? I quite understand: you are the son of the governor of Visegrád, and you are sending a letter to your father."