"Yes, my dear, and to other matters which I have heard from you."
"Yes, from me. I told you frankly, what Lorand related to me in confidence, believing that I shared his enthusiastic ideas. I told you that you might use your knowledge for your own elevation. They were gifts of honor, as far as you are concerned, but I bound you not to bring any disgrace upon him from whom I learned the facts, and to inform me if any danger should threaten him."
Bálnokházy bent nearer to his wife and whispered in her ear:
"To-night arrests will take place."
"Whom will they arrest?"
"Several leaders of the Parliamentary youths, particularly those responsible for the dissemination of the written newspaper."
"How can that affect Lorand? He has burned every writing; no piece of paper can be found in his room. The newspaper fragments, if they have come into strange hands, cannot be compared with his handwriting. If hitherto he wrote with letters leaning forwards, he will now lean them backwards: no one will be able to find any similarity in the handwritings. His brother, who copied them, has confessed nothing against him."
"True enough; but I am inclined to think that he has not destroyed everything he has written in this town. Once he wrote some lines in the album of a friend. A poem or some such stupidity; and that album has somehow come into the hands of justice."
"And who gave it over?" enquired the lady passionately.
"As it happens, the owner of the album himself."