They Were Found Wanting (59 page)

Abady’s and Boros’s seconds met that night in one of the Casino’s private rooms.

Alvinczy and Absolon started off by declaring that their friend had had no intention to offend. This they were quite prepared to have recorded in the Club’s minute-book. In their opinion nothing more was needed and the affair could therefore be
considered
as closed. Boros’s seconds hesitated for a moment. Then, with none too good a grace, they agreed to consult their friend and let him decide if this satisfied him. They did not, of course, have even the faintest idea that Boros might have secret reasons of his own for wishing the duel to take place.

The following morning the four seconds met again and now it was the turn of those representing Boros to open the discussion. Boros, it seemed, insisted on all his original demands and would only be satisfied if Count Abady were to declare publicly and in writing that he had not avoided him on purpose, that he held the lawyer in high esteem, and that he deeply regretted it if he had, even involuntarily, given Boros reason to feel offended.

When Boros’s seconds finally finished what they had to say, old Absolon burst into mocking laughter. The others reacted with shock and one of them asked, in a slightly menacing tone, ‘May I ask you why you find this so amusing?’

‘That you will find out soon enough!’ answered the old man with a malicious smile. Then, more seriously, he went on, ‘I must tell you that our instructions are that what we have just
proposed
is as far as we will concede. Count Abady declares that he did not intend to give offence. Further than that we will not go.’

‘And that we will not accept.’

Absolon’s smile now held no hint of humour or good will. Though his lips were drawn back to show a glint of white teeth, his expression was one of frightening malice. Speaking very slowly, he said, ‘All the same I would advise you to accept. I advise it very strongly. Mr Boros should be thankful to get off so lightly.’

Boros’s seconds were taken by surprise. Puzzled they asked, ‘What? What do you mean?’

Absolon leaned back in his chair. He laughed again, and now his voice held even more menace as he said, ‘I mean that we agreed to make you this offer only because of the quixotic and irrational goodwill of Count Abady, who has insisted that we do so. And now, speaking no longer as a second but as Miklos Absolon, I tell you that Mr Boros is no better than a common thief. This is the message I send to him. Kindly deliver it!’

Boros’s seconds both jumped to their feet and challenged Absolon on the spot.

‘That I do accept!’ replied the old man, and lit a fresh cigar.

Now the quarrel between Abady and Boros was relegated to
history
. Brief announcements were penned by both sides and duly appeared in the press in obscure little paragraphs that no one read.

On the other hand the Absolon-Boros affair was the only
matter
anyone bothered to talk about. Agitated little groups gathered in the great corridor of the Parliament building, for everyone knew that Absolon was the long-standing leader of Tisza’s party in Maros-Torda. As a result this new affair was at once made into a political issue.

Dr Boros’s popularity had previously suffered a severe setback when he sided with Kossuth against all those clamouring for an independent banking system. Despite this Justh’s supporters had always remained loyal, and to a man had stood to cheer him whenever he entered the House. Now many Members came over to make a point of shaking his hand and soon he became even more a favourite than before. Then newspapers of the Independence Party devoted prominent paragraphs to him, all portraying him as the nation’s great hero who had drawn his sword against the demons of evil and darkness. They wrote
nothing
about the offence of which Absolon had accused him, only of course because they did not know what it was. All they could say was that the insult was unforgivable. In no time at all there appeared a daily column giving an appreciation of Boros’s great qualities and reporting news about the forthcoming duel.

The column appeared daily because Absolon’s seconds had demanded a Court of Honour and this meant the appointment of a suitable president, which itself entailed much wrangling and delay. When the court finally assembled old Absolon repeated his message to Boros. He was ordered to provide proof of his
allegation
. At once Absolon’s seconds, Count Alvinczy and Major Bogacsy – who had been hurriedly summoned to the capital – asked for an adjournment for eight days so as to have time to
collect
their evidence and bring the necessary documents from Transylvania.

Balint found himself increasingly perturbed and distressed by the turn of events, all the more so since he had heard from Alvinczy that Absolon had lost his temper at the first hearing of the Court of Honour and declared that he himself did not have any documents. Balint’s dilemma now was that he could not decide whether or not he should ask Frankel for the dossier
concerning
the Eisler contract which the director of the timber
company
had said would always be available to him. He had no desire to get involved in this hornets’ nest which the original
challenge
from Boros had provoked. Besides which he was reluctant to be responsible for Boros’s downfall when he had promised Dinora to do him no harm.

Would it not be better, he asked himself, to let the affair take its course without any interference by him? After all, he
rationalized
, Absolon had brought all this upon himself. He, Balint, had wanted none of it and indeed had really nothing to do with it!

On the other hand, could he really stand aside and keep silent about what he knew to be true? Had he not already said before two witnesses why he would not himself shake hands with the lawyer? Even if he had not mentioned any names, neither Frankel’s nor anyone else’s, was it not true that he entirely agreed with what Absolon had said of Boros? Surely the old man had the right to feel that he could count on Balint not to let him down when he was risking his life because of what Balint had told him? And fight old Absolon would certainly have to do –
probably
under the most dangerous conditions – unless he could prove the truth of his accusations. And this he obviously would not be able to do without Balint’s help. He was hardly the type to start checking facts and figures. It was unthinkable, thought Balint, that by his silence he should allow the honourable old gentleman to get himself killed when right was on his side.

After many hours of painful brooding Balint finally made up his mind: only if the worst came to the worst would he ask for Frankel’s dossier. This was because he did not want to cause any harm to Kossuth. With any luck that dossier would not be needed; and, maybe, some of all those papers now peacefully at rest in that study drawer at Denestornya would provide what was necessary. They could never have served as evidence in a court of law but there was sure to be enough to satisfy a Court of Honour. He resolved to go home at once and see what he could find.

Before leaving he went to see Alvinczy, and afterwards Absolon, to tell them what he intended to do.

The old Tartar was in a merry mood.

‘Well, my boy, it’s nice of you to take this matter to heart, though I don’t think there’s really any need for proof. It’s only that old ass Alvinczy who invented all this stupidity. Of course they’ll all believe me. When I say someone is a swine, then he is one! And if they won’t believe me then we’ll fight it out instead: it won’t be the first time I’ve put a shot in someone’s belly!’ Whereupon, with great relish, he embarked on a tale about how, some twenty years before, on the shore of the Tsertsen Lake, he had shot three robbers with a small revolver. ‘All three fell like rabbits, like rabbits, my boy. And these were real tough
customers
, not like your legal lick-spittle! This is nothing, my boy, nothing at all!’

Balint left quickly.

Although he had intended to spend only three days in Transylvania – one in Kolozsvar to see Adrienne, and two at home at Denestornya to collect the evidence he wanted – things turned out differently. Although it was already the end of March when Balint left to catch the night train to Budapest, the snow was falling as heavily as if it were January. In the darkness the carriage-driver hit a road-stone, one of the wheels was broken, and Balint missed the train.

This was particularly provoking because he had promised Absolon’s seconds to be back on the fourth day. As yet it was not serious for the Court of Honour would not meet until three days later. So as to minimize the chance of any further mishaps on the road he travelled to Kolozsvar by the slow afternoon train the next day, and waited there for the Budapest express. He was now worried because, in the train from Denestornya, he had had time to look through the papers he had come for. None of them, on its own, amounted to much. It was only after reading the lot that a general picture began to emerge, and that picture amounted to a most serious indictment of the lawyer’s honesty. He decided to show everything he had got to Alvinczy and Bogacsy and if they didn’t think they amounted to proof then, as a last resort, he could always turn to Frankel. His documents really were proof, decisive proof; but Balint decided he would only ask for them as a last resort.

Then, if the Court of Honour declared against Boros without making public Balint’s and Absolon’s reasons, that would be for the best. Balint consoled himself with this thought, for then there would be no more political consequences.