Finally the mystery was solved. A few days after the arrest of
Podstadsky, Szekuly also had been arrested. It was now well known that
Podstadsky had forged notes; but it was impossible to suspect a man of
Szekuly's unimpeachable character of any connection with a crime of that
nature.
Unhappily, however, though less in degree, the accusation against Szekuly was similar in kind. He was a defaulter; and from the coffers of his regiment (which were confided to his care) sixty thousand florins had disappeared.
The Countess Baillou was his accuser. She had been charged with being a party to Podstadsky's fraud, but he, as well as Szekuly, had loudly declared her innocence. Both had avowed themselves to be her lovers, and it was ascertained that her household had been maintained at Podstadsky'a cost. As his mistress, she had received many of his bank-notes, but he protested that she knew nothing of his forgeries. He confessed his own guilt, but firmly upheld her innocence. So far from being his accomplice, Podstadsky declared that she had been his victim.
But a coffer containing twenty thousand ducats had been found upon the person of the countess. This money had not been given her by Podstadaky, since he had nothing but forged notes to give. The countess, when questioned, answered unhesitatingly, that one half the sum she had won at play, and the other half she had received as a present from Colonel Szekuly. It was well known that Szekuly had not the means of bestowing such princely gifts; yet, when informed of the countess's charge, he had grown pale, but replied that the countess had spoken nothing but truth.
Suspicion was aroused; the strong box of the regiment was examined, and found empty! Von Szekuly acknowledged that he had taken the money, believing in good faith that, by the sale of certain deeds in his possession, he would be able to replace it at short notice. But where were these papers? They could not be found, and Szekuly refused to give any account of them. He was guilty, he said, and must submit to his fate. Colonel von Szekuly, a Hungarian baron, under sentence for theft! This was a blot upon the escutcheon of more than one illustrious family. But the emperor, in framing his severe code, had reserved to himself the right to pardon; and this right, it was hoped, he would exercise in favor of the high-born criminals. It was not possible that he intended to humiliate the nobility of Austria so cruelly as to condemn two of them to the pillory, to the sweeping of the streets, to be chained to two common felons for life! [Footnote: Hubner, ii., p. 383]
No!—this was an outrage which the emperor would never dare to perpetrate, for it would arouse the bitter animosity of the whole aristocracy. Still it would be better to petition him at once, and warn him of his peril.
He was petitioned, but his invariable reply was, that the law must decide. It was known, however, that the sentence was not signed, and there was still hope. But how to reach the emperor? Since the council had pronounced judgment on the criminals, Joseph had granted audience to no one; he had avoided all proximity to the nobles, and to secure himself from importunity, had ceased to ride in the park, contenting himself with a daily drive in his cabriolet. Finally the petitioners remembered the "Controlorgang," and thither they repaired early in the morning. Ladies, as well as lords, came on foot, that the emperor might not be warned by the sound of their rolling equipages to deny himself again. They were the first to enter the palace on that day, and were so numerous that no other petitioners could obtain entrance. On that occasion, then, they were among their peers, and the canaille would never know how count and countess, baron and baroness, had humbled themselves for the sake of their caste.
As soon as Gunther opened the door, they rushed into the small room which was called the Controlorgang, and there, with beating hearts, awaited the entrance of the all-powerful emperor.
He came, and when he saw who were the petitioners of the day, his countenance expressed astonishment: but he did not depart from his usual habit, and walked slowly down the middle of the room, extending his hand to receive the petitions.
"How?" said he, when he had reached the last person, "Count Lampredo, you have nothing to present! You all desire to speak with me? I fear that my time is too short to gratify you."