The lawyer, the last person who had spoken to Gregorics, declared he had not mentioned any money, and Anna swore by Heaven and earth that she and her son had not received a kreutzer from him, and were much embittered at the fact of his leaving them without any provision. She had not a good word to say for the dead man. He had made the boy unhappy for life, spending so much on him and his education, and then leaving him totally without providing for him; so that the boy, for whom expensive professors had been kept, would now be reduced to giving lessons himself, in order to enable him to live, for the house would hardly bring in enough to pay for his keep, while attending the lectures at the University.
"Well," said Sztolarik, "if he had intended the boy to have his money, he could have given it straight into his hands, no one could prevent it."
This was quite true, and that was the very reason it seemed so strange he had not done so. The house in Vienna had been sold for 180,000 florins, the Privorec estates for 75,000, which made over a quarter of million florins. Good heavens! Where had he put it to? If he had exchanged the paper notes for gold, melted it, and eaten it by spoonfuls ever since, he could not have finished it yet.
But Gregorics had been a careful man, so the money must be in existence somewhere. It was enough to drive one mad. It did not seem likely that Anna or the boy should have the money, nor Sztolarik, who was Gyuri Wibra's guardian; so the brothers Gregorics did not despair of finding it, and they engaged detectives to keep their eyes on Anna, and looked up a sharp boy in Pest to let them know how Gyuri lived there, and to find out from his conversation whether he knew anything of the missing money. For Gyuri had gone to Pest, to attend the University lectures, and study law. The boy sent word that Gyuri lived very simply, attended every lecture, lived at the "Seven Owls," and dined at a cheap eating-house known by the name of the "First of April." This little restaurant was mostly frequented by law students. On the daily bill of fare was the picture of a fat man speaking to a very thin man, and underneath was the following conversation:
Thin man: "How well you look; where do you dine?"
Fat man: "Why here, at the 'First of April.'"
Thin man: "Really? Well, I shall dine there too for the future."
All the same, the fare was not of the best, and perhaps the above conversation was intended to make April Fools of people. For the restaurant-keepers of olden times were frank, and even if they lied, they did it so naively, that every one saw through the lie.
Gáspár Gregorics received the following particulars as to Gyuri's mode of life:
"He breakfasts at a cheap coffee-house, attends lectures all the morning, dines at the 'First of April,' the afternoon he passes at a lawyer's office, copying deeds, etc., and in the evening he buys a little bacon or fried fish for supper, then goes home and studies till midnight. Every one likes him, and he will make his way in the world."