By the time the commission had already been in session for a quarter of an hour, everyone in the club was eagerly watching the inner doors of the library. Instead it was the entrance doors from the street which opened.
Baron Egon’s seconds entered the Casino in full uniform, looking stiff and unhappy, their shakos in their hands. They asked where Gyeroffy’s seconds were to be found. At once they were ushered through the smoking-room and into the library beyond. The doors closed behind them. Everyone wondered what could have happened. What was this? What did they want, barging in here?
There was another surprise. Baron Gazsi Kadacsay was now standing in the outer hall. He did not come in but remained with his shako on his head, pacing up and down. He, too, was in full uniform. It was amazing, unheard-of: Gazsi, who was always so careless of his appearance, here in the club, freshly shaven and dressed to the nines. They tried to question him, pouring out into the entrance hall and begging him to come in and tell them what was going on. ‘Why are you here? Why don’t you come in? Whatever are you doing in uniform? Is the King expected? When did you arrive? Where have you come from? From your regiment? From Brasso? Are you on duty?’ The questions poured out, but they received no answer.
Gazsi was by no means his usual light-hearted self. He stood there unusually serious, and replied as shortly as possible to all the questions with which he was plied. When at last someone asked about the duel, enquiring if he had been sent to Kolozsvar in connection with Nitwit’s challenge, Gazsi turned away, and seeing Balint Abady across the room, went over and drew him towards the staircase.
‘Thank heavens you’re here, my friend. For God’s sake talk to me about something, anything, and get me away from these lunatics. What a bunch of fools!’
They did not get far because at this moment the two officers came down. Baron Gazsi stood to attention, Wickwitz’s seconds joined him for a brief moment and stood one on each side of him; then all three saluted, turned and marched smartly out of the building.
Everyone rushed to the smoking-room where they found the members of the Weapons Commission just coming out of the library. But their curiosity was not to be satisfied. No matter how hard they tried they could get no proper answers to their questions. Crookface merely grunted in a negative way; Alvinczy shrugged his shoulders. Uncle Ambrus swore at everyone telling them all to go to hell. Then, with Joska Kendy, he left the building and everyone assumed that they were going to see Gyeroffy. Abonyi muttered: ‘The duel is postponed!’ and hurried away without explanation.
Baron Gazsi and the two officers drove at once to Wickwitz’s hotel. They found him waiting for them in the passage.
‘Servus Kadacsay! Bist auch hier? Also was ist — You here too? What’s up then?’ he asked as he showed the way to his room. ‘So nehmt’sdochPlatz! — find yourselves a seat’ he said, sitting down himself and offering them all chairs. Then he looked up into their faces and said no more.
No one sat; the three men just looked down at him, their expressions grim and set. They stood there, stiffly, their shakos still on their heads, and looked at him in silence. Wickwitz shuddered, his spine tingling. He rose from his seat.
‘Oberleutnant Baron Egon von Wickwitz!’ the captain spoke in German, ‘a legal complaint has been lodged against you; therefore we are obliged to withdraw as your appointed seconds. Lieutenant Kadacsay will inform you further!’
The two men saluted and left the room without shaking hands. Baron Egon sank back on to the sofa. Gazsi took off his shako and pulled up a chair beside him. It was clear that he did not relish the task he had before him. He smoothed his short-cut hair a couple of times and, his head held sideways like a raven, he looked at the man beside him.
‘Na also, was hast Du mir zu sagen — well then, what have you to say to me?’ asked Wickwitz in a low voice.
Kadacsay opened one of the braided buttons on his loose hussar’s jacket and took out an official-looking paper from an inner pocket. He handed it over without saying a word. It read:
Auf Anzeige der Privatbank Blau und Comp. Grosswardein, ist gegen Oberleutnant Baron Egon von Wickwitz das Ehrengerechtliche-Verfahreneingeleitetworden.GennanterOberleutnant hat — following information laidbyBlauand Co.,private bankers and assayers,proceedingshave been taken against Lieutenant Baron Egon vonWickwitz. The said Lieutenant must …
Though these terrible words seemed to swim before his eyes Wickwitz was still able to try and lie his way out of it: ‘There must be some mistake,’ he murmured in a low voice.
Gazsi inclined his head, his whole demeanour showing that he doubted if any mistake had been made. For a moment neither of them spoke.
‘Hast du noch etwas zu sagen — haven’t you anything else to tell me?’ asked Wickwitz at last.
Now Kadacsay replied instantly, though very slowly and with special emphasis: ‘The colonel entrusted me with a private message to be passed by word of mouth only. It is this: the commanding officer of your regiment informs you that should the signatures on Countess Dinora Malhuysen-Abonyi’s promissory notes be forgeries, then you are to proceed at once to Brasso and report to regimental headquarters. But if those signatures are really your own …’
‘If they are?’
‘If they are genuine … if you signed those papers … then it were best … if only for the honour of the regiment that …’ and Gazsi got up and placed a revolver on the table, ‘… that you should use this at once! That is the colonel’s message.’
The dark hair over Wickwitz’s low forehead seemed to fall even lower over his brows. His large cows’ eyes were almost closed:
‘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.