CHAPTER XXXIII.
When the points in Ráby's indictment had mounted up to eighty, he thought it time to make his protest to the presiding judge:
"I am shattered in mind and body alike; I desire to withdraw the accusation I have made, seeing it in no wise profits the oppressed people in whose interests I lodged it, but rather tends to their further hurt."
"That avails nothing," was the answer. "The accusation has been presented to the Emperor, and the complainant must justify it. Is the treasure to which the impeachment relates, found, a third of it falls to the informer; is the information thus lodged proved to be false, the informer forfeits his head forthwith. So out with your proofs!"
"Proofs? How can I furnish them I should like to know, fettered as I am, from a dungeon?" cried Ráby in desperation. "Are not all my documents in the hands of my enemies? Have not the archives of Szent-Endre been destroyed, and my private papers abstracted, so that I am denied all means of procuring the proofs I need?"
"How do you know that?" asked the judge, dumbfoundered.
"I know it only too well. Nay, I know too, it happened at the instigation of the authorities."
"This is the gravest evidence we have yet had of your guilt," cried the judge; "this shows you have held intercourse with the outside world, although forbidden by the law to do so."
"It only proves I am right," retorted the prisoner.