“Sh-h. . . . That is the boy.”
The other started and turned quickly, but appeared puzzled. “When did you say he came?”
The bent-over man, who was no other than Stas, son or the woman who lived in the court, gave the date to a day.
“Then it must be he,” exclaimed the other. “On the day that I saw him he was dressed like a country youth and his clothes were dusty from travel. To-day he is arrayed in velvet like any prince and has besides the cap of a junior collegian. But his stature is the same. And you say that he lives above you?”
“Yes. Goes by the name of Kovalski.”
“H’m—it was Charnetski when I knew him. . . . Now, you, look at me—do you see this piece of gold? That’s true gold, red gold, an’ will buy many a dainty or many a drink. That is to be yours, for your very own.”
Stas almost shrieked for joy when the stranger put the piece of money in his hand.
“But look you—no talking about this anywhere else. This is my business, mine and yours, and I tell you that when we are finished there will be more gold pieces for you just like that. Now show me the place where they live.”
They followed along until Joseph and Elzbietka stood before the entrance to the court.
“That is the place,” said Stas.