"My kalpag!" cried Nalaczi furiously, "where have you put it?"
"I have swallowed it, sir."
"You worthless rascal," roared Nalaczi, throttling the jester, "would you play your pranks with me!"
"Truly, sir, I shall not be able to bring it up again if you press my throat like that."
"Stop, I mean to search you," said Nalaczi; and he began to tear up the coat of the jester, whereupon the kalpag came tumbling out from between its folds. "You clumsy charlatan," laughed Nalaczi, "well, you hid it very well, I must say." Then he put on his kalpag again, in which were all three letters well sealed with yellow wax, but he now hastened outside as rapidly as possible in case the fool should spirit them away again.
The same night he galloped to Fogaras, though it cost him his horse to get there, summoned Cserei, and giving him the letter addressed to him said:
"You, sir, are to execute this strict command to the very letter."
The commandant took the letter, broke the seal, and then looked at the magnate in amazement:
"I know not, sir, whether you or I have been made a fool of—but there's not a scrap of writing in this letter."
Nalaczi incredulously examined the letter. It was a perfect blank. Hastily he broke open the other two letters. In these also there was nothing but the bare paper.