Then the second kinsman took up his parable. He was better informed than the first one.
"Let me make things clear to you, amice! During the Revolution, the theatre director, Valentine Bálványossi, acted under the name of Tihamér Rengetegi."
"Ah! yes, of course, I remember the name."
"Many a nut has he cracked beneath the very noses of the Germans."
The other kinsman confirmed the statement.
"If they can only catch him they'll make the wind cool his heels for him."
"But that theatre director is really a most knowing rogue," explained the younger kinsman, with a laugh. "During the Revolution, he entered the service of the Hungarian Government and rose to be major. They say he performed prodigies. But at the same time he took the precaution to completely alter his personal appearance. During the Revolution he dyed his beautiful fair hair a deep black, and carefully fostered a gigantic moustache with whiskers to correspond; in that guise he looked exactly like Don Cæsar de Bazan. When, however, things began to go wrong, he speedily had his hair shaved off and his beard also, and is now waiting in retirement till his original fair hair has grown again. Then he will once more come before the world as Valentine Bálványossi; and who will dare to say that there was ever such a person as Tihamér Rengetegi?"
One really must admit that it was a stroke of genius to serve the Revolution with a black-dyed head of hair!
"When he hears that you are strolling about here he will most certainly come and engage you."
It was necessary to put a stop to this forthwith.