I was greatly relieved at not seeing Lorand among the accused. They did not know one of the chief leaders of the secret-writing conspiracy.
But when they left me to the last, I was convinced they were on the right track; the copyers one after another had confessed from whom they had received the matter for copying. I was the last link in the chain, and behind me stood Lorand.
But the chain would snap in two, and after me they would not find Lorand.
For that one thing I was prepared.
At last, after long waiting, my turn came. I was as stupefied, as benumbed, as if I had already passed through the ordeal.
No thought of mother or grandmother entered my head; merely the one idea that I must protect Lorand with body and soul: and then I felt as if that thought had turned me to stone: let them beat themselves against that stone.
"Desiderius Áronffy," said the director, "tell us whose writing is this?"
"Mine," I answered calmly.
"It is well that you have confessed at once: there is no necessity to compare your writing, to equivocate, as was the case with the others.—What did you write it for?"
"For money."