"Yes, do so, by all means," said Brazovics; and thought to himself, "Just as well that I know it; I shall be there too."
And he happened to get there a day sooner than Timar. There, with the assistance of his old connections, he so prepared the way (which cost him a mint of money) that if once Timar set his foot in this labyrinth, he would never get out again. From the treasury he will be sent to the high court; there the affair will be given over to the judicial office, thence to the superintendent of police, and from there to the secret department of finance.
The unfortunate plaintiff at last loses patience, gets angry, and says a few impudent words—even possibly gets them printed. Then the censor gets hold of him, and at last he begs to be let go, and swears never again to pull the bell at any public office. He will be a fool for his pains if he tries to get justice. But Timar was not a fool; he was far cleverer than either of his advisers—than both put together. He had grown cunning from the time when he let himself be persuaded to take the first wrong step: he knew already that you should never tell any one the real thing you are going to do. At Pancsova, when he snapped his fingers at the authorities, he had shown what talents lay undiscovered in him. Then he had done in another's interest what could be of no use to himself: he did what he was told to do, and humbugged the pursuers; now he was doing it in his own interest. Being in possession of the treasure-trove, he must find some excuse for appearing as a rich man before the public. He must pretend to be a speculator who had been lucky in his business. In his very first affair he must be reputed to have made large sums. If people imagined he had made his money by corrupt means, that was the lesser evil; and it could not be proved, for it was not true. He had been put to such great expense by the contract, that hardly any profit was left; but he was in a position to buy houses and ships, and pay in gold, and every one thought the money at his disposal came from his successful tender. He required a pretext, a title, a visible ground, in order to go quietly forward with the help of Tschorbadschi's wealth.
What, then, did he do in Vienna?
He must ask for compensation from the exchequer, and could reckon on the support of the war department. From his friends at Komorn he had received letters of recommendation to the most influential officials. He left all these letters at the bottom of his trunk, and went direct to the chancellor himself, of whom he requested an audience. The minister was pleased that this man did not try to get in by backstairs influence, but came direct by the front entrance. He admitted him. The minister was a tall man with a clean-shaven face, an imposing double chin, severe brows, and very bald. On his breast shone numerous orders. He had stuck both hands under his coat-tails when this poor individual with the big mustache was shown in. Timar wore a simple black Hungarian costume.
The first question of his excellency to Timar was, "Why do you not wear a sword when you come to an audience?"
"I am not a noble, gracious sir."
"Indeed! I suppose you have come to me to ask for compensation for your arrest and the injury which was inflicted on you?"
"Far from it," answered Timar. "The government only did its duty in proceeding against greater men than I, as well as myself, on the ground of apparently well-founded information. As I am not of nobility, it is of no consequence to me to lay damages on account of my injured honor. Indeed, I owe gratitude to the informer as well as to the court, for having by their strict inquiry made it perfectly clear that my hands were clean all through my contract."
"Oh, then, you have no intention of demanding satisfaction from the informer?"