CHAPTER XXXII.
The Emperor sent urgent orders to the governor to set Mathias Ráby free immediately, so that the inquiry into the Szent-Endre frauds, established on his accusation, could be brought to an end.
The letter was laid by with the rest, as usual, unread. The governor however hastened to answer that the orders would be executed in due course—when the depositions of the municipality had been taken—an explanation which satisfied the Emperor, who little knew what the "due course" extended to.
It really meant that the culprit Ráby was brought out of his prison, not to be freed, but rather to be fettered hand and foot. That is usual when a prisoner is to be tried, and this was his first examination.
In the presence of the whole court, and of the district commissioner, they subjected him to an insidious cross-examination for fully four hours, till he was ready to drop from sheer exhaustion. Only half of the accusations brought against him would have sufficed for his condemnation.
Finally, he was conducted back to prison. He staggered into the room he had left, but the gaoler called him back.
"Oho, there, Mr. prisoner, that's not your cell. Those who wear irons don't lodge there!"
And he led him into a neighbouring cell whose door was furnished with three massive locks, whilst the window was protected with iron bars and a grating. The only furniture was a plank bed; of table or chairs, there were none. The prisoner's books had not been sent in either.
Although it was dinner-time, and he had eaten nothing, no dainty meal awaited him, such as those he had been accustomed to, nor even was he allowed the ordinary prison fare allotted to well-born culprits. A heyduke brought in a great earthen pitcher with a crust of black bread.