Miklós Bánffy - They Were Counted

‘So? So? So that’s it, is it?’ He repeated the words several times more.

Kadacsay picked up his shako. When he reached the door he turned: ‘These things are easier if done quickly!’ he said lightly. ‘Shall I close the door behind me?’

Baron Egon got up, straightening his fine athlete’s figure to its full height. ‘I’ll close it myself!’ he said in a hard and determined voice.

Gazsi hesitated a moment. Then he turned back. ‘Goodbye, my friend!’ he said putting out his hand which Wickwitz took in his hand and grasped strongly. For some seconds they remained hands clasped and silent. Then Kadacsay slipped quickly out.

Egon was alone. He walked up and down the room, once, twice, three times … and at the fifth turn he suddenly broke into peels of hard, ugly laughter. He rang the bell; and when the servant came in he asked the man to bring him a railway time-table. There was an outgoing train at six o’clock. This was extremely handy, for at that hour he was unlikely to encounter anyone he knew at the station. He looked at his watch: it was ten to five. Wickwitz quickly changed into shooting clothes. Then he packed all his civilian clothes into the smaller of his two suitcases. The larger he left where it was. His uniforms he hung neatly in the wardrobe. Then he picked up his sword with its gilded hilt and looked at it, remembering what a joy it had been when he had first been entitled to wear it. Then he put it carefully into the wardrobe. He looked around the room. On the table lay the revolver, the gift of his excellent colonel. Egon smiled ironically to himself, his moustaches curling with amusement. That present is far too good to leave behind! he thought, as he slipped the weapon into his pocket. Then he rang the bell again and ordered a carriage to be brought to the door.

‘I shall be away for a day or two,’ he said. ‘Most of my things are still in the room. Please see that it’s kept for me until I return!’

When they announced that the carriage was waiting Wickwitz looked around the room to check that he had forgotten nothing. He had everything he needed. He was driven to the station where he calmly boarded the six o’clock train and left. He had completely forgotten the message he had sent to Judith that morning. It had never even entered his head.

By dawn the next day he was over the Romanian border.

Kadacsay walked back slowly, stopping briefly every so often as if he were expecting someone to come hastening after him. At last he reached the Casino. He had not really wanted to come back, for he dreaded having people coming up to him asking questions, but he felt himself obliged to do so because he had told the hotel concierge to telephone him there ‘should anything happen’.

The Casino was humming like an upturned beehive. The only thing that everyone knew for certain, and this they had got from Alvinczy at once, was that no duel would take place and that Nitwit had been ordered back to his regiment. When Uncle Ambrus returned he had said it was because of some questionable dealings that touched the Austrian baron’s honour.

As soon as Kadacsay came in he was besieged with questions, but he replied so rudely that the others soon left him alone. Disappointed, they said to each other that really this Gazsi was getting above himself! Why, he was behaving just like an Austrian, a lackey of the Emperor in Vienna! It was the sort of thing that showed how much they needed Hungarian words of command and sword tassels in national colours! It was obvious. Everything would then be different. As it was, as soon as anyone put on the imperial uniform they didn’t want to have anything more to do with their old friends!

Joska Kendy was sitting with this group so Gazsi was unable to run to the shelter of his old hero. Therefore he went to look for Abady with whom he had become far more friendly since his visit to Denestornya. He needed someone to talk to with whom there would be no need to discuss what had just happened in Wickwitz’s hotel room. He wanted to have someone to sit with until that telephone call came for him. Balint and he settled down in the empty reading room where no one was expected to talk. For some time Gazsi did not open his mouth and there was a long silence between them. Then Balint said: ‘It was Dinora’s promissory notes, I suppose?’

Baron Gazsi nodded. Still he said nothing. They waited until it was already after half-past six. Then they went to the telephone and were put through to Wickwitz’ hotel. Kadacsay asked for the hall porter and when he came on the line, said:

‘Please go at once to Lieutenant Wickwitz’s room. What? He left the hotel? When? An hour ago. All right, thank you.’

‘You’d better come with me,’ said Gazsi, after a moment’s thought. ‘I’m not sure I can cope with this on my own!’

Both men hurried over to the hotel.

‘He only took his overnight bag — the small one,’ said the porter. ‘He didn’t say where he was going. It must have been about six o’clock: there are three trains around then, going to different places, of course. No, he didn’t pay his bill, he said he’d be back in a day or two!’ They asked for the key and went up.

The room was in perfect order. Gazsi looked down at the table. The revolver was nowhere to be seen. He went over to the wardrobe and opened it: inside there were all Wickwitz’s army things, tunics, blouses, braided satin waistcoats, parade trousers, officer’s caps, two pairs of hussar’s boots with their woods in place, and even his sword: not a trace of plain-clothes, no civilian suits, no shirts, no under-linen, no shoes!

Gazsi felt sick and he was so shocked that he went quite pale: ‘Come on!’ he said, ‘let’s get out of here!’

They left the hotel and wandered about the narrow streets of the old town. As they did so Gazsi told the whole story to Balint. Now it was obvious that Nitwit had run away, but before Gazsi took any further action Balint said that they must get definite proof of what had happened; they only had the word of the hotel porter that he’d gone to catch a train.

They went together to the station and questioned the porters. Yes, one of them remembered the gentleman; he had put his luggage on the train to the frontier. ‘Yes, he definitely went on that train. I know the Lieutenant well, I’ve often carried his bags.’

Kadacsay went to see the stationmaster who confirmed that they had sold a half-price officer’s ticket, second class, for the six o’clock train that afternoon. Kadacsay and Balint walked back together to the town centre. They walked slowly along while they discussed what action should be taken. Someone had to be told that Wickwitz had bolted, but who? The Hussar regiment at Brasso would not thank them if the news had first been reported to the local infantry garrison. They didn’t like to send a wire, for that was too public; and a letter would take too long.

Finally Gazsi decided he would return himself to Brasso on the night express. There they would know what was to be done.

AS SOON AS BALINT REACHED HOME after his long walk with Gazsi that evening he sent a note to Adrienne. He wrote: ‘W. decamped this afternoon. Tell you all tonight.’ That night at his usual time he let himself in through the window of Adrienne’s sitting-room and told her in detail everything that had transpired during the day. They talked for a long time, relieved at the way everything had turned out, for surely Judith would now see how worthless was the man on whom she had pinned her hopes. Of course it would be dreadful for her when she found out the whole truth, and so Adrienne planned next morning to tell her only what was absolutely necessary, letting it out bit by bit as Balint reported it to her. She felt it would be easier for Judith if she were to learn the truth gradually, but always as soon as Balint brought any more news, just in case Judith might hear something elsewhere.