The next morning, the river being free from drift ice, the two commissioners took their way to Pesth, and by dint of much threatening and imploring, arrived at the door of the prisoner's dungeon, where they could speak with him.
"Are you there, Mr. Ráby?" they asked anxiously, "and what are you doing?"
"Yes, I'm here sure enough, and clanking my chains for want of any other amusement," was the answer.
"You don't mean to say you are in irons?" cried his questioners.
"Yes, indeed, both my hands and feet are fettered fast."
"Well, have no fear, we will soon free you!"
For this was more than the police commissioners could stand; and they dashed off in hot haste to demand Ráby's release from the authorities, but they found the latter perfectly obdurate to all their entreaties. Finally, they tackled Laskóy, and extorted from that gentleman a promise to remove the prisoner's fetters. They also were invited by him to attend the inquiry next morning, when they might see Ráby for themselves, he said, and escort him away a free man.
So the following morning found the two Viennese again at the Assembly House, but there was not a soul about, save a clerk who could give them but scant information. So they determined to get their news at first-hand, and make for Ráby's cell. On the way they fell in with Janosics, carrying a brazier containing disinfectants, whose fumes filled the corridor.
"When does Mr. Ráby appear before the court?" they inquired eagerly.
"Not to-day," said the gaoler, "the poor man is ill."