ow hoarse voice,
whereupon Bus nodded with an air of approval. Mr. John then handed him
his pocket-book, and signified that he was to keep its contents, and
after that the carriage rumbled off with its escort of mounted
torch-bearers.

The _roue_ in a mocking, strident voice, sent an irritating farewell
after it with a lavish accompaniment of resounding kisses--"Adieu, cher
oncle! adieu, dear Jock _bacsi_! My respects to the little girls at
home, and to the little dogs also. Au revoir! To our next merry
meeting!" And he kept on sending after him whole handfuls of kisses.

Meanwhile the innkeeper had begun to drag out of the room one by one all
the beds and tables which Sir John had left him.

"Ah, cher ami! won't you leave the furniture till morning? I shall want
to use it."

"Impossible. The house has to be burnt down."

"Que diable! How dare you say such a thing?"

"This house belongs to the gentleman who has just gone out. What is
inside it is mine, and has been paid for. He has ordered that this inn
shall be burnt down, and that no other inn shall ever be built on this
spot again. To every one his fancy, you know."

And thereupon, with the utmost phlegm, he neatly applied his candle to
the rush-thatched eaves of the house, and with the utmost coolness
watched to see how the flames would spread. By the light of the fire he
could the more comfortably calculate how much money he had got for this
illumination. He found he could hire three good houses for it in the
neighbouring town of Szeged, and he was quite satisfied.

As for the young gentleman, if he had no wish to be burnt, he had
nothing for it but to huddle himself in his mantle, whistle for his
long-legged steed, mount on its back, and allow himself to be taken back
to his carriage.

"You have driven me out of this inn; I'll drive you out of the world,"
he murmured between his teeth, as his human steed with squelching boots
tramped along with him through the endless mud. By the light of the fire
the two men, one on the back of the other, resembled a half-submerged
giant.

And thus ended the fateful encounter of the two kinsmen at the
"Break-'em-tear-'em" _csarda_.

CHAPTER II.

A BARGAIN FOR THE SKIN OF A LIVING MAN.

One of the richest capitalists in Paris at this time was Monsieur
Griffard. Not so very long ago, somewhere about 1780, Griffard was
nothing more than a pastry-cook in one of the suburbs of the city, and
his knowledge of t